"Chain Reaction" Power Failure Book I

by Andrew Draper

Jack walked into the lab and called out. “Jenny, Are you ready to go?”

  Limbs frozen in utter astonishment, Jack’s face went from disbelief to searing horror at the sight of Sean Murphy leaning over Jenny as she lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. Snapping out of his shock-induced immobility, he screamed, rage pushing his voice to a grating screech. “You bastard! Get away from her!”

  Drawing his muscles tight, he took three quick strides and launched himself at Murphy, bracing for the impact. The two collided with bone-jarring force, pain racing a trail from Jack’s right shoulder down his spine. The flying tackle sent both men spilling to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs.

  First to recover his senses, Murphy slammed his open palm into Jack’s nose, snapping his head back and sending a splash of crimson blood against the wall.

  Jack instinctively grabbed at his broken nose, and Murphy capitalized, landing a punishing blow to his ribs.

  Breath forced from his lungs, Jack gasped as his bruised lungs screamed in protest. He rolled to the right before Murphy could land a follow-up punch and then scrambled to his feet.

  Circling the room, the two men punched and dodged like boxers in a cage match. Each man stalked the other like a predatory animal, probing…searching for a weakness. While Jack was taller by several inches, the advantage offered by his longer reach disappeared under Murphy’s larger, lower center of gravity. Ignoring the radiating screams of his battered body, Jack lunged for Murphy and locked his arms around the other man’s portly waist. The inertia carried the pair back several feet, knocking over a computer station, the monitor shattering in an explosion of red and yellow sparks.

  Seeing his target through a blood-red veil, Jack snapped out a strong right jab, connecting with Murphy’s soft middle. Hearing the satisfying grunt, he threw a second punch at the other man’s face.

  A stinging jolt raced up Jack’s arm and he heard a satisfying “click” as his fist smashed into Murphy’s jaw.

  Howling in pain, Murphy ducked the follow-up punch and the crack of a solid right cross to his opponent’s chin finally gave him a slight advantage. He used it to roll to his feet and draw the pistol from beneath his jacket. He pointed it at Jack, a wild look now shining from his cold, dark eyes.

  As soon as he saw the automatic’s sleek black silhouette, Jack knew there was no escape. The split-second realization was quickly overshadowed in the condemned man’s guilty thoughts.

  I failed Jenny…again.

  In that fleeting instant, the hole in the end of the barrel reminded him of a train tunnel, the cavernous maw just as dark and just as big.

  “It's nothing personal Jack. This is business.” Murphy hissed, his words echoing softly in the nearly destroyed lab.

  Jack saw the muzzle flash, but didn’t live long enough to hear the faint ‘pop’ of the shot. The slug tore through Jack’s chest like tissue paper, severing his aorta. He stared a cold gaze of hatred at Murphy and collapsed to the lab’s cold tile floor, his body landing just a few feet away from his associate.

  Murphy watched in gruesome fascination as a red lake slowly appeared, the pooling blood surrounding Jack’s body in a protective moat.

  “Dammit!” Murphy swore, his profane flare echoing off the walls. He kicked the still-warm corpse. “I hate complications.”