Trench took final aim.
Soam retched as the blade plunged in to the hilt and started its move upward.
Trench was curling the trigger now.
Bane crashed into him from behind, forcing the killer off balance and his shot into the wall. Trench tried to turn the gun on him, but Bane drove the killer’s arm against the wall and the pistol went flying into the darkness.
Davey saw all this transpire deep in his consciousness as he pushed The Chill one last time. Soam gurgled blood as the blade split the bone and gristle of his thorax and his hot insides poured out in a flood.
Trench came up with a knee, Bane deflected it easily. The killer was breathing hard — too old for hand-to-hand — and Bane had only to hold out to assure himself of victory. That underestimation almost cost him his life, because suddenly there was a knife in Trench’s left hand, literally pulled from his sleeve. The blade was moving toward Bane’s throat too fast to duck so he brought his right arm up to ward off the blow and the blade cut through fabric and found flesh.
Bane screamed in agony and jammed Trench’s body hard against the plaster, pummeling him once, twice, three times with the knife pinned against the wall. The killer went limp. Bane released him and let his unconscious frame slip down the wall leaving a thin trail of blood behind his head. Trench flopped to the floor weightlessly, a scarecrow without ties.
Bane started to go for his gun, intent on finishing Trench, but stopped. Something held him back. It might have been the fact that he had never fancied the idea of killing someone in an utterly helpless state. Or it might have been that he was standing over a man who was one of the few who had survived the Game long enough to be considered a legend. You didn’t kill a legend while he lay slumped against a wall. Bane turned toward the boy.
Davey released Soam from The Chill and the Twin Bear keeled over into his own blood and innards.
Bane saw the body fall. Then his eyes met Davey’s. He had started forward when a blast of scorching wind met him head-on, jabbing his flesh with hot needles. He almost felt he was melting and was powerless to do anything about it when Davey slid slowly down the far wall and curled his arms about his knees, his whole body trembling awfully.
Released from whatever had held him, Bane moved tentatively forward, aware that he had little time but not wanting to frighten the boy further. He shoved what he had just seen and felt aside for the time being and knelt by the boy.
“Davey …”
Nothing.
“Davey?”
Still nothing. The boy looked blankly ahead past Bane, past everything, teeth chattering and hair curled at the tips by sweat.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” Bane told him. He helped the boy to his feet and steadied him, supporting his frame with an arm around his shoulders. “We’ve got to get out of here,” he repeated. “I’ll help you but you’ve got to walk. Try now, come on.”
Bane was still holding onto the boy when they moved into the corridor, palming the gun in his free hand. The forces outside might have heard Trench’s shot, and even if they hadn’t there was certainly a time factor here that might well have been exceeded. The rest of Trench’s men, or some of them, would be following him in.
Bane chose the elevator this time and hit the lobby button. He eased Davey gently away from him to check the Browning. The boy’s eyes seemed to be coming back to life. They looked up into Bane’s full and trusting.
The elevator ground to a halt. Bane pushed the boy behind him.
The doors opened across the lobby in full view of the front door. Three figures were entering hesitantly, perhaps even fearfully, seeing Bane too late to respond. Their hands never touched their guns or their walkie-talkies before he took them out with one bullet each. The spent shells danced hot in the air as the chamber continued to clear itself, barrel spitting smoke.
“Come on!” he shouted at Davey, pulling him by the arm toward the door leading into the cellar. The shots would bring reinforcements and lots of them. There was no more time to waste. Bane took the cellar stairs quickly, never losing his grip on Davey who dragged behind him like a dead weight.
Then footsteps pounded the floor above them, unsure and without direction until they realized the only possible route of escape. Davey must have heard them too, because suddenly he sprang to life and began moving on his own in Bane’s shadow just as both of them heard the cellar door shatter open and the sounds of men clearing the steps.
The cellar was dank and dimly lit, cluttered with storage and old plumbing, which didn’t stop Bane from rushing through it on a sure path Davey followed. The men were closing on them, though now the clutter was working in Bane’s favor by effectively screening him and the boy from sight and, thus, bullets.
Their pursuers had come dangerously near when Bane spotted the staircase that had been his passage in and bolted toward it, pulling Davey along so hard that he was nearly carrying him. The boy struggled to keep up and not lose his footing.
They took the stairs quickly and emerged in the lobby of the second building from the Ferdinand. Screening the boy’s body with his, Bane slithered down a hallway and crashed through a side exit just as a horde of men rushed the front door and blanketed that half of the building.
They had escaped the dragnet by seconds but steps still pounded the sidewalk not far behind. Bane didn’t even think of using his gun; even silver bullets were good only one to a customer. He just kept pulling a winded Davey along toward his parked car and God help them if Trench’s people had found it.
The car seemed clear up ahead, a narrowing distance away. They reached it and Bane pushed Davey into the front seat. He jammed the key home before he’d even got the door closed.
The car roared to life. Bane gunned the engine, spun the wheel, floored the gas pedal. The car rushed away, tires screeching.
Bane stole a glance at the quivering boy beside him and headed the car toward traffic.
Chapter Fifteen
Bane carried Davey up to Janie’s apartment.
“My God!” she managed after opening the door. “What happened? Who is he?”
“Long story,” Bane said, kicking the door shut. “I think he might be going into shock. I’ll put him on the couch. Grab a blanket.”
Janie returned with it just as Bane was lifting Davey’s legs onto the fabric. “Who is he?” she repeated.
Wordlessly, Bane covered him up to the neck and smoothed his hair. The boy’s eyelids fluttered.
“He’s the boy you chased at Rockefeller Center, isn’t he?” Janie demanded.
“He’s a hell of a lot more than that.”
She hesitated. “Why’d you bring him here?”
“Because they’ll already be watching my place. We won’t be able to keep him here long. They’ll make the connection soon enough.”
“Who?” Janie grabbed him by the shoulders. Bane winced and she saw the blood seeping down his right arm. “Josh, you’re hurt!”
“Just a scratch.”
She regarded him fearfully. “What’s going on?”
“It’s like I feared, only worse. COBRA’s behind all of it and they’ve got Trench in their corner. I slowed them up tonight but it’ll only be temporary.”
“Then it was Trench who killed your friend Jake.”
“And he was about to kill the boy.”
“When you arrived to save the day? …”
“Not exactly. I only handled Trench. The boy did a pretty good job on one of Trench’s giant henchmen.”
“But that’s not possible.”
“It happened. I saw it. I don’t know how, but it looked like the boy made the giant split his own stomach open.”