Chapter Six
October 23rd, 9:30 PM
Erin felt first the cold concrete floor, and then she heard the slow rumble of the concrete door opening. And then she heard the voice of one of the guys, the deep voice, Clayton.
"Hot damn, it worked."
Her eyes opened. The light that had been dim now seemed blinding. It hung above her face, almost mocking her. She rested her arms on the ground and looked around her. She was in the basement. Still. She saw spare wisps of smoke collecting in the corners of the room, above the tables covered in drugs, around the cabinets and shelves and crates full of drug manufacturing materials. How long had she been out?
She could hear the stairs creak as the two men came down.
"Yep," said the other guy, Jackson, as he came into Erin's field of vision, looking at her, grinning a sickening grin. "Looks like we got one."
Erin tried to get to her feet, but her motion felt stilted, weak. She coughed lightly. She had inhaled a lot of smoke. Moving was a challenge. But she had to move. Had to.
"The Boss said we were wasting money on that there door trap, didn't he?" said Clayton. "Said no damn fool'd be dumb enough to just type in something and wander down here."
"And ya remember what I said, Clayton?" said Jackson. "I said, bud, maybe not dumb enough in the city. But things get kinda funny out here in the forest. You start doin stupid stuff."
They arrived on the floor as Erin came to her feet, putting up her fists, glaring at them. They were just ten feet from her. She could almost smell their breath.
"And I said, man, if that damn thing works once, if just once we catch ourselves a wanderer with that there gas trap, it'll be all worth it," said Jackson. He tipped his hat at Erin. "I think this one is totally worth it."
"But who the hell is she?" asked Clayton.
Erin stared at them. They were tall, each at least a foot taller than her, but they weren't particularly muscular. The guy with the hat was pretty skinny, actually-- she could see his ribs sticking out underneath his overalls. It hadn't been hard to take them down before. And she was going to have to do it again. She began to finger the buttons on her belt, looking for a smoke bomb.
"I'm Blue Lynx," she said. It came out weaker than she wanted. The gas was still in her system, apparently.
"Lynx, huh? Like one of them mountain cats? Killed a few of those in my day," said Jackson, clapping his hands together.
"Well, I'm a little tougher than your average cat," said Erin. "If you recall, I recently kicked your asses."
"Damn right, you did," said Jackson, clearly the talker of the two. "You came to our property and for no goddamn reason, you beat us up and hit our poor little dog. What's the big idea, huh?"
"I had a reason," Erin declared. "You two are manufacturing drugs. You are running an illegal operation out here. I'm taking you down."
Jackson and Clayton stared at her. The room fell silent for a second. And then, the two men erupted in laughter, slapping their knees and patting each other on the back. It was kind of pathetic.
"You're right, Miss Lynx," sneered Jackson, getting a hold of himself. "We are making drugs."
"And you're right about being part of uh... Whaddya call it? An operation. Sure," said Clayton.
"But you ain't taking us down, babe," Jackson said. "You're wrong right there."
"We'll see about that," said Erin. She removed the smoke bomb from the pouch on her belt and hurled it at the feet of the men. Again, the room filled with smoke, and the two men coughed and stamped around. "Goddammit! Tired of this shit!" said Jackson.
Erin made her move. But as she entered the gas toward where the men were standing, she felt lightheaded. Normally, she could move through the smoke with ease. But being gassed herself had left her groggy, unsteady, slower. She stepped toward who she thought was Jackson and bent her knees, preparing to leap at his throat. But rough hands came out of the fog and shoved her hard against the wall of the basement. Her head struck the wall and she slipped down toward the ground, coming to a rest on her butt. She gazed up. She saw the silhouettes of the men become clearer. They were pushing aside the smoke plume by plume, coughing, but also coming near her.
"I see you, bitch," said Jackson. He had come within a few feet of Erin's boots. She pulled back her legs and tried to find her bearings. Still facing the rapidly nearing men, she scrambled up the wall, fumbling at the flaps covering her belt pockets.
Jackson took a large step toward her, setting his hand down hard on the wall to the left of Erin's head. Erin snatched his wrist with her free hand and pulled a small taser from her belt. With as much force as she could muster, she slammed the taser into Jackson's neck. Electricity coursed through Jackson's body, and he screamed. Watching Jackson convulse wildly, Erin removed the taser and then buried her left fist into Jackson's stomach. He bent over, moaning and coughing, clutching at his abdomen.
Erin raised her arm, preparing to bring it down on Jackson's exposed neck. But just as she began her forward motion, Clayton grabbed her wrist and pinned it to the wall. Erin brought the taser up to attack, but Clayton saw the motion and, with a big, clumsy swat, knocked the weapon out of Erin's hands, sending it flying to the other side of the basement.
Erin gasped. She instinctively moved her hand to her belt, searching for another item. But Clayton almost immediately caught this wrist, too, and pushed it against the wall, so that Erin was now securely pinned. She struggled in Clayton's grasp, as he brought his face closer to hers and flashed a toothy, ugly grin.
He coughed in her face, and she winced. "Got you where I want you now," he said.
Sensing an opening, Erin brought her left boot up. It connected solidly with Clayton's groin, and he made a heavy wheezing sound as he released Erin's wrists. Erin brought her closed fists heavily on Clayton's ears. He cried out, and tried to clutch both his crotch and his head. Erin pushed herself from the wall and put all of her weight into Clayton's torso. Her impact sent him off his feet and to the floor.
Erin waved away what remained of the smoke from the bombs. She looked around at the basement. She saw the paraphernalia from before. She saw Clayton splayed out on the floor, clearly in a great deal of pain. But what had happened to Jackson?
"Where are you, you skinny bastard?" she said out loud. Only the low buzz of the lightbulb and the low moans of Clayton came in response. She turned around and saw her taser in the corner. Still woozy from the gas attack, and with a considerable headache after being slammed into the wall, she walked over to her weapon and bent down.
"Here!"
Jackson leapt at Erin, grabbing her by the body and hauling her to the floor. In seconds, he had her arms pinned underneath his legs, which were now straddling her stomach, and his hands resting on the floor on either side of her head. Where had he come from?
"You're not the only one with little tricks, Lynx girl," Jackson laughed. He admired Erin as she squirmed beneath his weight.
"Get... Off... of... Me," Erin muttered. She pushed hard against Jackson's legs but he wouldn't budge. She tried reaching her hands to her belt, but the grip of Jackson's thighs was too tight for her to get into a pocket.
"That little taser thing you got. It stings," Jackson said, patting his neck, which was now bright red.
He reached his left hand across the floor. Erin watched in horror as his fingers dangled toward her taser.
"You ever felt it before? Hmm?"
Jackson brought the taser back and held it above Erin's face. She tried to control her breathing. Tried to stay calm. Tried to do anything except panic as Jackson hovered her own weapon above her helpless body.
"I'll take your silence as a no," Jackson said.
Erin stared at him. She needed to do something, say something. She reached at her belt. If she could just get at her phone, she could at least send a message to Margot. An emergency message. Because she was in trouble, there was no denying it.
"Listen," Erin said. "Jackson? Is that your name? Hey, I'm sorry, but I think this has all been a big misunderstanding."
Jackson laughed. His body shook and the pressure of his legs relaxed slightly. "Oh yeah? Funny you should say that now that I've got you right here all pinned and shit."
He wasn't as focused now. Erin continued. "So then, why don't you just let me go?"
Jackson laughed again, even harder then before, and was now on the verging of toppling off of Erin on his own. Erin stretched her fingers toward her belt. She felt her phone pocket now, and, with Jackson still chortling, almost uncontrollably, tapped it, hoping it would send out a message to Margot.
"Nah, I think not," Jackson said. "You see, Little Lynxy..."
Erin knew this was the time. She brought up her arms against Jackson's groin. His laughter turned into a single high-pitched tone, and his fingers peeled away from the taser, sending the item to the floor. Summoning her deepest reserves of strength, she pushed him off her body and rolled him onto the floor.. She then quickly scooped up the taser and got to her feet, scanning Jackson's prone, now howling figure.
"You hillbillies," she said, with returning confidence. "You need to watch your crotches."
Jackson gripped his groin, alternating between mumbles and cries. Erin now strutted over to him, poking his body with the tip of her boot.
"You should've known," she said, now resting her boot on top of Jackson's body. "You should've realized that when you fight the Blue Lynx, you lose. Now, I know you live in the country. Maybe you don't get cable out here. But I'm kind of a big thing in the city." She pushed her hair back and smiled. "I take out scum like you every day. And this drug operation that you got going? It's over, Jackson. It's over. Because the law is the law, in the country and in the city. And..."
Clayton cracked Erin's head with something-- a bat, his fist, a brick, who knew?-- and with a small, girlish sound, she crumpled to the floor, rested her face on the cold, hard concrete, and fell into unconsciousness.
On to Chapter Seven
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