I ducked behind the desk. There was a window in the wall facing the street. Staying hidden, I raised the window as quickly and as noisily as I could.
From where I crouched, I heard Bowdler run down the hall. I could see him through a gap beneath the top of the desk. He strolled into the room and headed for the window. He had a gun in one hand and a small, unpainted metal box in the other.
I couldn’t tell whether the gun was the kind that fired darts or real bullets. Either way, I didn’t want to get shot. If he knocked me out now, I’d never see the streets of Philadelphia again.
As he leaned out the window, I reached out with my mind to yank the gun from his hand. Once he was disarmed, I could make him tell me everything I needed to know.
Nothing happened.
I tried again. Nothing.
I felt like someone had just cut off my arms. I tried harder. I tried with all the strength my mind could generate, but it was useless. The gun might as well have been made of air. My power didn’t touch it. Why? Was it that thing he carried? Was that what a disrupter did? I remember when I’d failed to move the marble in the lab. He must have been testing the disrupter. I stayed still and waited for him to climb through the window.
“Nice try, Eddie,” he said. “You’re pretty clever for an amateur.” He stepped away from the window and scanned the room. “But you’re no match for professionals.”
Think!
I was so used to depending on my talent, it was hard to imagine any other solution.
“Eddie, I’m not in the mood for hide and seek. We have a lot of work to do. There’s nothing to worry about. No more nasty medicine, I promise. We don’t need that anymore.”
I held my breath as Bowdler’s eyes locked on the desk, then nearly jumped as a harsh squawk burst through the air. He put the box on the window ledge and pulled a walkie-talkie from a clip on his belt.
“Any sign of him outside?” He paused a moment, then said, “I didn’t think so. He’s still in here.” He shook his head. “No. Maintain your position. I want you out front if he makes a break for the door. Don’t worry about the back. He can’t clear the wall.”
So there was at least one other person outside, and Bowdler was about to start searching for me. I had a feeling he was very good at hide and seek. Or search and destroy. I couldn’t just wait here and hope he didn’t find me.
But there was no way I was going to jump him. He had a gun, he was way bigger than I was, and he probably knew all sorts of deadly fighting techniques. The only thing I had going for me was surprise.
I waited until he looked down to clip the walkie-talkie back onto his belt. There was a heavy tape dispenser on the desk. I grabbed it, stood up, and threw it as hard as I could. But not at him. Hoping I was right, I aimed for the box on the window sill. If that’s what was blocking my power, I had a chance to get out of here. Even as the dispenser left my hand, I found myself trying to guide it with my mind. But that wasn’t necessary. I hit the box with a solid shot, sending it flying out the window. I heard it clatter to the street. Broken, I hoped. If not, I was definitely in deep trouble.
Bowdler spun toward me. I reached out with my mind and ripped the gun from his hand. It flew up with so much force, it smashed through the plasterboard of the ceiling. He was lucky it didn’t take his trigger finger with it.
I had my power back. I could do anything I wanted to him. I could snap his ribs or rip his heart out through his mouth. I could pluck his eyesballs from their sockets and force him to juggle them.
The gun must have cut him when I yanked it away. Blood spilled from a gash in his palm. I hesitated for an instant, fighting the memories brought on by the sight. I had to stop him, but I didn’t want to live with the burden of another death.
Unlike me, Bowdler didn’t hesitate. He dived backward and rolled out the window. “Give me your disrupter,” he shouted.
I raced into the hallway. I knew I couldn’t go out the front. I ran to the rear of the house. By the time I reached the door, I’d unlocked it and flung it open with my mind. I leaped out the back, my feet barely even touching the porch steps, and ran as fast as I could. There was a brick wall behind the house at least ten feet high. Maybe more. It was higher than I could jump. I couldn’t lift myself more than a couple inches. The times I’d tried anything like that, I’d ended up sprawled on my butt.
I heard footsteps racing down the hallway. I searched the yard for something I could use as a ladder. No tables. No chairs. Not even a large flower pot. But there were some leftover bricks scattered on the ground.
I stacked three bricks, end to end, two feet away from the wall. Keeping those in place, I stacked six more bricks a foot from the wall to the left of the first stack. As I ran toward my emergency stairs, I pressed nine bricks against the wall, in line with the first three, and hoped I could hold everything in place under my weight.