Thomas could see it in between the bookcases toward the front of the library. A dim light, probably a lantern, swung as it floated down the aisles like an apparition. Slowly. Calm. Unfortunately, it provided very little information other than that someone was there. The shadow was ambiguous as to who held it—the projection against the wall cast the person as a giant.
“I would think it’s only one, right?” Thomas leaned in toward James, leaving the words only to his ears. “What do you think?”
“That’s all I’ve seen. No other shadows. What do we do?”
“We’ll take him. If it’s one of the Butcher’s men, the Intel will be worth it.”
“If it’s not one his?”
“We’ll figure it out—can’t let this opportunity slip away. Stay close. No lights from us.” Thomas moved toward the door to the stacks and could feel James at his six. “We’ll use his light against him. That guy can’t point it, so we should be able to sneak up on him, but remember“—Thomas swallowed—“unless we have to, don’t use your gun. We don’t want to alert the camp.”
James tapped him on the shoulder, acknowledging his statement and letting him know he was ready. Thomas unlocked the door and slowly pulled it inward. He stood and moved into a corner to their left. From there, he could see the lantern shining periodically between the spaces in the shelving as it moved. Thud! Another book fell. This guy’s not being too careful. No idea we’re here. Thomas closed his eyes and tried to recreate the layout of the library in his mind. Of course it had been years since he was last here, but the state of the office left little doubt that the main portion of the library sat unaltered.
He moved through it in his head. Round tables and single work stations in the middle. Most of the bookshelves run parallel to the wall… maybe four deep? Where he is runs the opposite way. “This way.” He tugged James toward the outside wall, leading them down that last row of bookshelves.
They monitored the lantern as it continued its way along the front wall opposite the office they had exited. Thomas could feel James’s hand at his back as they moved—Thomas forward, James watching behind—both of their pistols drawn.
The two moved through the darkness as one, working as this single entity ready to neutralize an intruder. Along the perimeter, they proceeded with light, quick steps. Closer and closer to the lantern they came. They crouched down at the cap to the aisle, ready to turn the corner and engage the man with the light. Just a quick glance—Damn!—Thomas stumbled back into James.
The lantern sat unattended. In his haste, Thomas failed to realize the light stopped moving. He grabbed James and forced him to look then bolted round the next bookcase. Doing their best to keep from the light, they took to the opposite side of the stacks, taking a defensive posture as they assessed the situation.
“What do we do now?” James forced a whisper.
Thomas responded by pulling James with him toward the back of the library. If only they could get back to the office and regroup—disengage from this mistake, make a plan then follow through. Even if it meant retreating back up through the hatch, it wasn’t worth getting ambushed in the dark. They had lost the advantage. It was time to acknowledge that and respond.
They retreated with tails tucked between their legs, breaking as quickly as possible toward the office—in need of a lock to help secure their position. Another thud, followed by a low muttering. Maybe they hadn’t been found out. No matter, they still pushed their way quietly into the office and locked the door.
“What the— what the hell happened?”
Thomas took his time responding. The adrenaline had gotten the better of him, and his voice might carry further than he intended. “Just a—Just a second.” He rested his hand on James’s back.
Another thud from the other room.
“This guy doesn’t know what— the hell’s going on.” James’s breathing labored through his quiet words. “We’ll need— We need to go and get him.” He began to rise from his crouched position.
“Just wait a—”
An eruption of broken glass interrupted him. A wooden chair bounced against the conference table, crashed to the floor, and came to rest among the shards. Without hesitating, Thomas grabbed the legs of the wooden chair and flung it back into the library to distract their assailant as he drew his pistol to retaliate. His flashlight followed the muzzle as he scanned the stacks, but there was no one—nothing. What the hell?
James scurried toward the door and pressed himself against the jamb, using it and the heavy door as cover for what might be waiting. Thomas’s eyes met with James who began nodding to him. The look told him he was about to open that door—that he was ready to move.
Thomas affirmed with a quick nod. It was ten paces to the ladder and the same to that locked door. The choice had been made. There would be no rush to the ladder. No escape through the hatch. They had been found. It was time to take control of the situation.
James switched the door’s lock while Thomas stared obsessively at him, waiting like a caged animal. He rushed the door as James pulled it, but was knocked off his intended path. His pistol clattered to the floor, and the flashlight tumbled, whipping light across the walls until coming to a rest toward the center of the room.
A set of hands slid past Thomas’s head, wrapping his neck into the crook of an elbow. He tried to drop his chin to prevent the rear choke, but it was too late. James rushed to help, but Thomas spun away, collapsing onto the floor, knocking a sharp gasp from his attacker as the full weight of Thomas’s frame crushed him.
James drew his pistol.
“Have to shoot him to get me!” the attacker cackled from the floor, hiding behind Thomas while he gripped his neck tighter and tighter from behind.
James tried for a clear shot only a moment longer before holstering his pistol and working to free Thomas from the chokehold. The man wasn’t letting go, and James’s attempts to pull the grip apart proved insufficient. Thomas wanted to tell James to just shoot him, but the words couldn’t pass his throat. Thomas began to feel light-headed—his consciousness slipping.
In a last ditch attempt, Thomas threw his elbow several times into the man’s ribs, finally breaking the hold. The blood rushed back into his head. A flurry of strikes against his back had little effect other than to annoy Thomas as he rolled over to face his adversary.
Thomas straddled him, took hold of his shirt, and slammed his head against the floor several times. The man’s eyes began to flutter and roll back into his head. “Are you fucking done!?” Thomas yelled.
“Yes, damn it,” the man cried out. “Get off!” Thomas hurried to get back to his feet, but the man was able to connect with several strikes to the inside of his knee, causing Thomas to buckle. Relentless little fuck! The attacker attempted to pass under Thomas, trying to improve his position, but it was no use. Thomas heard a loud crack as his fist connected with what he believed was a nose. A bestial howl of pain. “Stop! Stop! Stop!” the man begged.
“Roll him over!” James called out.
Thomas backed off the man, taking control of his shoulder, and pressing his face into the carpet. They worked to get his arms behind him. Thomas held them in place, and soon James secured a line of parachute cord around his wrists.
“Got him?” Thomas asked.
James slapped Thomas across the back. “Hell yeah, man.”
Thomas’s head snapped back toward James, his chest heaving. “Really, man?” He exhaled. “Just— make sure he’s the only one in here. I got this one.”