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STARSCAPE BOOKS(69)

By:David Lubar


“No way!” Martin shouted.

“You can’t go with him,” Flinch said.

They were right. I couldn’t trust him. After he had me under control somewhere, he’d go back for the others. None of us was safe. I had to get the grenade away from him.

If I could sit with the guys and talk, we’d come up with a dozen solutions. I’d seen it at Edgeview. Once we grabbed hold of a problem, we refused to let go until we found an answer. That was our true talent as a group. We refused to let go. But I didn’t have the luxury of discussing this with them. I had to get the grenade away from Bowdler, and I had to do it now.

“Give up, Eddie,” Bowdler said.

“Don’t let go,” I whispered to myself. And saw the answer. I didn’t have to pull the grenade away from him. I didn’t need to get rid of it. I just needed to keep it from exploding.

“It’s time to take your medicine, Eddie,” Bowdler said. He held up a small bottle in his left hand.

“No. It’s time to put an end to this.” I squeezed Bowdler’s fingers around the grenade. Hard.

He yelped and jerked his hand out from under Lucky’s shirt. For an instant, a look of panic crossed his face, but then he got control again.

“You do anything to me, your parents are at risk,” he said. “There’s only one way this can end. You’re just kids. There’s no way you can beat me. You never had a chance.”

“You’re bluffing,” I said. “Check him out, Cheater.”

Cheater walked past me. I froze Bowdler’s other arm, and his legs, so he couldn’t do anything.

“I don’t even need to read his mind,” Cheater said. “He’s a lousy bluffer. His right eye twitches every time he lies.” He moved closer and leaned toward Bowdler. “Yeah. Total bluff. And such a filthy mind. You wouldn’t believe the names he’s calling you.”

Cheater backed away. Bowdler glared at me. “If you love your country, you’d come with me.”

“I love my country. I hate what you’ve done in its name. Kidnapping. Fraud. Lots of stuff I don’t even know about. All for money. You’re just as bad as our enemies. Maybe worse.”

“We need to find the pin,” Flinch said.

“Now who could do that?” Martin walked up to Lucky, took him gently by the arm and led him away from Bowdler. “How you doing?”

Lucky groaned, then said, “Not too good. Kinda fuzzy. He made me drink some stuff before we came here.”

“You think you could find something for us?” Martin asked.

Lucky nodded, then staggered past Bowdler. He walked four or five feet to Bowdler’s left, then bent over and reached down to the grass. He brought the pin to Martin, who put it back in the grenade.

I yanked the grenade from Bowdler’s hand. I didn’t want to have to worry about it, so I moved it all the way across the field, raised it high in the air, then pulled the pin again and let go of the handle. The grenade exploded instantly.

“Cool,” Torchie said.

“Not cool if it happened near us,” Martin said.

“You loved that, Eddie,” Bowdler said. “You like destroying things. And you’re a natural at it. That’s why you need to come with me.”

“I don’t need to do anything. It’s over. You’ve lost.”

Bowdler shook his head. “It’s not over. You haven’t won anything. Face reality, Eddie. You know you have no other choice.”

“Shut up!” I lashed out and snapped his nose. I’m not sure which of us was more surprised. His body jerked, but I held his hands out to either side.

Through gritted teeth, he said, “You’re just like me.”

“No I’m not!” I broke his left thumb. It made a louder snap than his nose. As he winced, I thought about the scanner I’d pulled apart in that office building.

“Just like me …” Blood flowed from both nostrils.

“No way.” I broke his right thumb. A body isn’t held together any better than a machine. I glanced at the guys. I could tell from their faces that they’d stand by me no matter what I did.

“Like me …” Bowdler said.

“No …” I stood on the verge between violence and mercy. I wanted to hurt him a lot more. I wanted to pull every joint in his body out of its socket and make him my marionette. Dance for me, Bowdler. I wanted to pay him back for all that he’d done to me and my family.

But the desire itself made me feel sick. Count the cost. That was one of my father’s favorite expressions. In all his years of buying companies, in all the business deals he’d told me about, he’d never cost a single worker his job. Maybe, some day, if the time ever came to share my secret with my parents, I’d tell him about this moment. And before I even reached the end of the story, he’d know what I’d decided. The cost was too high.