“We just have to cut that thing out of your arm,” Flinch said, his voice louder than normal.
They both looked at me. I knew what we had to do. So did they. Now we just had to get the message to Cheater.
“If they hadn’t sewn this thing in my arm, you’d be in big trouble right now,” I said to the guy.
He laughed and said, “If I hadn’t eaten breakfast, I’d be hungry. ‘Ifs’ are worthless, kid. Get tough and swallow a big mouthful of reality.”
I looked over at Cheater, hoping he’d gotten the message. Come on, we’re a team. Even if the disrupter wasn’t working, he was too far away to read my mind. But he was close enough to me in other ways to understand what I was trying to tell him. Time seemed to crawl as I waited for Cheater to act.
He turned the key, pulled open the door, then tossed the key to Martin. As Martin caught the key, Cheater spun back toward the man, held his hands up in a karate stance, and shouted, “Hi-ya!”
I yanked off my shirt and closed my eyes. I felt someone grab me from behind. An instant later, there was a searing pain in my arm so agonizing that I started to pass out. I wanted to flee the pain, but if I lost consciousness, we’d be doomed for sure.
I forced my eyes open. Martin was sawing through the stitches with the key. His own face looked so pale, I could see the veins beneath his skin. I guess Flinch was holding me, because I felt strong arms wrapped around me, pinning my arms to my side.
In front of us, the big guy was staring at Cheater like he was some sort of annoying insect. He pointed the gun at him. “Out of the way. Now.”
Cheater waved his arms around and shouted even louder. “Hiiii-Yaaahhhh!”
“Hurry.” I tried to say it calmly, but it came out as a scream.
The guy stepped forward, grabbed Cheater by the shirt with his left hand, and tossed him aside like he was made of straw. Cheater let out a howl of pain as he hit the floor. Now the gun was aimed right at me.
I spotted motion out of the corner of my eyes. Torchie rose to his feet, squeezed the accordion shut, then rushed forward and rammed the guy with it. The guy grunted and staggered a couple steps. He must have felt like he was hit by a small truck. But he didn’t fall or drop the gun. I knew we only had a second.
“Get it out of me!” There was blood spraying from my arm. Martin’s hands were shaking.
“I can’t,” he said.
“Do it! Or Bowdler will control all of us.”
Martin reached into my open wound. As I turned my eyes away, I felt a pain that made the rest of it seem like a gentle kiss.
“Got it,” he said.
“Crush it.” I slumped against the wall as my legs gave out on me, then slid to the floor.
“No. We need it.”
Martin dashed through the open cell door and ran toward the steps. I had no idea what he was doing.
The guy pushed Torchie away, spun around, and aimed the gun at Martin. Between them, Cheater started to get back on his feet. Praying that Martin had moved far enough away, I reached out with my mind and twisted the gun in the guy’s hand, turning it back toward him. It would serve him right to take one of those darts in the gut.
He must have held on to the trigger as the gun twisted. The shot was loud. Too loud to be a dart. He grunted like he’d been kicked hard in the stomach, doubled over, then crumpled. The gun slipped from his fingers as he hit the floor.
I studied the open gash in my arm. It didn’t seem real. I felt I was watching someone else’s blood spill from my veins.
“Torchie,” Cheater said, “cauterize the wound.”
“What?” Torchie asked.
“Heat it. Seal off the blood vessels, fust be careful—you don’t want to cook his arm.”
Torchie turned toward me. His face grew even paler than Martin’s. But he swallowed hard, and I felt a warmth in my arm. The bleeding stopped. I pointed at the guy on the floor, who seemed dazed enough that he wouldn’t be a problem any time soon. “Him, too.”
“Him you can fry,” Flinch said. “He’s one of the bad guys.”
“Nobody’s totally bad,” Martin said. “Help him, Torchie.”
While Torchie stopped the guy’s bleeding, I unlocked Thurston’s door. I felt like I’d just played about seventeen straight games of tackle football with people twice my size. As soon as he got out of his cell, Thurston picked up the gun that the guy had dropped and put it in his pocket.
“Hey, can we turn this thing off?” Martin called from down the hall.
“Pull the battery,” Cheater said.
“I don’t see one,” Martin said.
“There won’t be a regular battery,” Thurston said. “It’s probably bio-thermal—powered by body heat. Check upstairs for a remote switch. Look for a small transmitter. Something with one button and an antenna.”