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Looping the hook on the other side of the ratchet strap to the metal bar, I pull it snug before cranking the ratchet lever back and forth, putting strain on the strap. It continues to tighten, and the clicks of the ratchet get louder, so I have to slow my pace, letting it tick less noticeably. The barrel of fluorine begins to tip, and I’m struggling to move the ratchet. Using all of my weight,I force the ratchet back again, then push it forward as hard as I can one last time.
The final shove is all I needed to knock the tank over, and it comes crashing toward me, spilling its contents all over the floor and toward the wooden pillars. Yellow gas spreads through the immediate area, and I cover my face with my shirt to stop myself from inhaling it.
“What the fuck was that?” the man in charge barks.
I take off, circling around them between the shadows of the warehouse. The two men take off in the direction of the spilt chemical, cursing at one another as they run.
“Randy!” one of them yells. “Is that you?”
“What the fuck is this shit?” the other spits.
There’s no time to stop and breathe, so I dart into the open while they’re distracted, pulling my knife out as I run. Rhett’s sitting there, tied up, but ready for me. He’s in bad shape, but he’s alive, and I know he’ll fight to get us out of here.
“What are you doing here?” he whispers, his voice full of worry.
I look up while cutting at Rhett’s ropes, anticipating the quick return of the two men. “I couldn’t leave you.”
“You shouldn’t be here,” Rhett’s voice is almost bitter, but I hear the subtle undertone of relief. “They’ll kill us both if they catch you here.”
“They were going to kill you regardless, so now we’re in this together,” I admit as the blade slides through the last few fibers, freeing him from the chair.
As Rhett struggles to stand, the man’s voice is low and raspy, sending chills through my entire body. “Did you really think that would work?”
Rhett and I both look up, our eyes landing on the man. He’s on the shorter side, dressed in a white button up and dark grey slacks, held up by a fancy leather belt. His dark hair is combedback with gel and his face is cleanly shaven, giving him a sharp look.
“Let her leave. She has nothing to do with this, Demarko,” Rhett says, raising his hands in submission.
Demarko lets out an amused chuckle, cracking each of his knuckles one at a time. The man standing beside Demarko is taller and thinner with a less clean look, and he’s obviously this guy’s bitch. I break out in a slight sweat when the bitch pulls out a gun, pointing it directly at me from across the room.
“Leave her the fuck alone,” Rhett spits, venom in his voice. “She doesn’t know anything.”
“Her being here proves she knows too much,” Demarko disagrees.
Sweat beads at my temples under the pressure of being held at gunpoint. I have that gun in the back of my pants, but there’s no way I’ll be able to pull it out before this guy plants ten bullets in my chest. The smell of fluorine gas hits my nose, burning my eyes as I inhale it. That gas is our only chance at escape before these two murder us.
The scent of the gas gets stronger, and I know it’s working. The seconds tick by, and I know it can’t be much longer before it erodes the wooden pillar enough to bring it crashing down, along with the rest of the chemicals on the platform above them.
“You thoughtshecould get you out of this?” the bitch laughs, giving me a pathetic look, then returning his eyes to Rhett.
The platform behind them creaks, and I almost let out a nervous laugh. It’s working. It’s actually fucking working.
“Where’s Randy?” Rhett cocks a brow, looking around.
Demarko steps forward, clutching his fists at his side as his glare burns into me. “Where the fuck is Randy? What did you do to him?”
I swallow, trying to push away the tears rising to my eyes. Now isn’t the time to show weakness. The platform is well on its way to crumbling, I just need to stall. We can get through this.
“Choking on his blood out front,” I admit, casually shrugging my shoulders. “He was dead before he hit the ground.”
Demarko looks me up and down, finally observing the blood that coats my clothes. “You fucking bitch,” he shakes. “You’re going to die for that.”
The man beside Demarko is turning red and he’s got a wild look in his eye. He’s going to blow any second.
The platform behind them creaks again, but they don’t hear it. I touch Rhett’s arm, pushing him backward as I take a step with him. We’re too close. The wooden pillar whines as it begins to give, and I shove Rhett back harder.
“Stop fucking moving,” the bitch screams, spit spraying from his big mouth.
“Put a bullet in her forehead,” Demarko orders the man beside him.
