He started up again and stopped only when he was directly under the door. It was more like a hatch.
Who the hell designed this thing?
He had no real choice. Tom was too dangerous to take slowly. The faster he could get up there and confront the man, the better.
Will positioned himself below the door. He gripped the ring handle with his left hand, careful not to jingle the metal base. He adjusted his stance on the steps so his left shoulder was just barely touching the door. With the Glock in his right hand lifted up to chest level, Will took a deep breath, then a second one, then finally a third before shoving his body upward, driving everything he had not into the door, but through it.
He emerged through the hole in the second floor and into darkness and knew instinctively he had screwed up.
His eyes hadn’t adjusted to the pitch blackness yet when he heard movement behind him.
There was no choice now. Will lunged all the way out of the door and onto the floor and spun around just as Tom attacked, throwing his full weight into Will’s chest like the brawler Will knew he was.
The Glock flew from Will’s grip as Tom crashed into him, driving his shoulder straight into Will’s chest, his entire bulk crashing down like a sledgehammer. Then Tom’s arms wrapped around Will’s waist and the man carried both of them across the room and right into the wall, smashing Will hard against the concrete, the impact sending something clattering to the floor next to them in the dark.
Tom didn’t waste a second. He pressed his attack, and Will felt one, two—four quick uppercuts connecting with his ribcage, pounding on his kidneys in the darkness. Before he could fully absorb the pain from those blows, Tom’s left fist caught him in the right cheek and Will staggered sideways, the world suddenly exploding in a burst of pain and colors and sound.
Will fought for breath, trying to get control of his legs, forcing them to stop moving. It wasn’t working. He felt the air inside the room shift as Tom followed, stalking him like a hunter after wounded prey.
He raised his arms in a weak attempt at making a shield, unable to find Tom in the darkness. Tom punched through his defenses and connected again, and Will heard his nose breaking, the skin tearing, and blood spraying the cool air of the second floor. Will fell face-first onto something soft (thankfully soft).
Will pushed himself up just as he heard a soft click and an LED lightbulb on the ceiling buzzed to life, illuminating the room and the cot he had been lying on, bleeding onto a white pillow.
He spun around and saw Tom in cargo pants and T-shirt, picking up the Glock from the floor. Will sat down on the bed and wiped at the blood dripping from his nose. There was a break on the bridge, with some blood there, too, but he didn’t worry about that at the moment. Instead, he tried to catch his breath and watched Tom turning the Glock over in his hands.
“Nice gun,” Tom said. “Looks familiar. Berg’s? That stupid kid. I knew we shouldn’t have given him a gun.” Tom reached behind his back and pulled out a second Glock. He grinned at Will, and the only thing missing was him shouting, “Ta-da!” Instead, Tom said, “I could have shot you when you stuck your head through the door, you know. I was waiting in the back, where you couldn’t see me. No one ever looks behind them when they come through the door. See, this is basically my house. I know where all the blind spots are.”
“So why didn’t you?” Will asked. His voice sounded muffled for some reason.
“Too easy. Way, way too easy. Besides, you’re the leader, right?”
Will didn’t answer. He took the respite to slow his breathing down and gather himself.
“I’m actually kind of disappointed,” Tom said. He tossed Will’s Glock back on the floor and it slid into a corner, next to a bookcase filled with hardcover books, magazines, and more board games. “I thought you’d be tougher. But I guess toughness is defined by the people you hang out with. I bet those girls and that other soldier boy think you’re pretty hot shit.”
“You gonna shoot me or talk me to death?” Will said, and spat a mouthful of blood out onto the floor.
Tom laughed. “Don’t be in such a hurry. This is the best time I’ve had in months. This probably won’t come as too much of a surprise, but it’s hard to find someone decent to go a few rounds with on this island. Marcus can barely throw a punch. And Berg, well, you know kids these days. Hell, Karen gives me a better fight in the sack. She likes it rough, you know.”
“I really couldn’t care less.”
“Hah, yeah. I guess she’s not your type.” He grinned, as if he had just thought of something wonderful. “Lara, that her name? A little too skinny for my taste, but hey, I might give it a try anyway. You gotta spice life up every now and then, right? Otherwise it’s not worth living.”
“She’d eat you for dinner.”
“We’ll see. She looks like she might be ready for a trade-up. What do you think?”
“I think you should shoot me now, because it’s going to hurt if we go round two.”
Tom grinned at him. “You think so?”
“I know so.”
“Prove it.”
Tom tossed his Glock away, and it skidded along the floor and landed a few inches from the other one.
Will grinned at him.
Tom saw the grin and returned it. “I like the confidence. So show me, tough guy. Show me what the Rangers taught you.”
Will stood up from the cot and began walking toward him. Tom stood his ground and watched him come.
The man didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t fidget at all.
Tom had three to four inches on him and a good, solid fifty pounds. Tom was bigger, stronger, and a hand-to-hand fight was probably not in Will’s favor. He didn’t think a guy like Tom had ever lost a fight in his life. Definitely not in a one-on-one situation. And he probably wasn’t going to lose this one, either, so his confidence was justified.
Bigger, stronger, but maybe not smarter.
Maybe.
Will went right at him.
He faked a right punch that made Tom lift his left with the intention of blocking, but instead of going through with the punch, Will launched himself forward and rammed his shoulder into Tom’s gut. He caught the big man by surprise, but Tom quickly gathered himself and smashed down with two huge elbows into Will’s back. Will ignored the pain, tried to pretend he didn’t even feel the blows connecting, though that was damn difficult. They were connecting, all right, and each blow was like a boulder crunching down on him from on high, driving him to the floor, trying to bury him.
Ignore it!
Will used his leverage and momentum to lift Tom off his feet, grunting, shouting, screaming with the effort because Tom was heavy (Too heavy!). But somehow he managed to lift the big man off his feet, however slightly, but enough to carry both of them across the room.
Will kept going long after he ran out of breath, long after every inch of his body began aching. Pushing his legs to keep churning, his arms to keep their grip around Tom’s body, even as Tom continued to slam down with his elbows. Maybe Tom realized what was happening, what Will was planning, because his blows started to come down faster and stronger. Will wondered if you could possibly break a man’s spine with just your elbows, because that was exactly what it felt like Tom was trying to do.
Then, mercifully, Will reached his destination and slammed Tom, back first, into the bookcase on the other side of the floor. Two of the shelves gave way as Tom’s back smashed into them, and books and magazines and board games tumbled down on top of their heads. Not that either of them noticed.