Chapter 38

Click. Through the intensity of his pursuit of Brandt, he never noticed that the bolt of the rifle was now in the rear position, signifying that there were no more rounds left in the magazine and the chamber was empty. He turned the rifle to its side to visually confirm what he already knew. The surprise came when he felt something wrap around his legs tightly and began twisting.

“I believe that you lost count,” Brandt said after he sent Sorren to the ground with a scissor kick. Brandt gathered all his strength to thrust himself off the floor and look down upon his opponent. This was the part of his plan that he had longed for. “You mentioned something about a gentlemen’s combat? Now’s your chance.”

Sorren, despite the pain coming from his lower back as he had landed on the rifle, smiled and nodded. “Gladly.” Rising to his feet, he met Brandt face to face. He balled up his fists in preparation for who would throw the first punch.

Brandt was on the same page, even though it was more difficult to clench his left fist after sustaining the injury to his shoulder. He stared into Sorren’s eyes, judging his opponent. As quickly as he could manage, he nudged his shoulder into Sorren and put a powerful right hook into his ribs.

His muscular core had protected him from an otherwise debilitating blow as Sorren grabbed onto Brandt’s shoulders, pulled him down and returned with a solid knee to his abdomen. The impact instantly expelled the breath in his lungs, but he tightened up with rage and pushed hard with his feet, sending Sorren’s back slamming into the server rack behind him. Brandt let loose a volley of quick punches aimed at Sorren’s head, each being blocked in a typical boxer style. An uppercut had found its way under Brandt’s chin, and then a right cross towards his face, followed by a side kick, sending him flying backwards into the other side of the row.

Brandt couldn’t believe how fast his opponent could be as he wheezed and tried to stabilize himself against the rack that provided support. He noticed the movement in Sorren’s shoulder as he prepared to follow up with a haymaker. The would-be devasting punch came into contact with empty air as Brandt ducked and returned with an uppercut of his own, knocking back his opponent and following up with three swift right punches to the abdomen and a hard hook to his face.

Both of them were physically winded, but neither of them had the fire extinguished from their eyes. Sorren came at him again with a straight that was easily dodged by Brandt. Grabbing onto his forearm, he shifted his weight, spun, and released him into the rack again. It was another opportunity to land another fury of fist toward the once cocky man. With each blow, Sorren did his best to block it, but the speed was overwhelming. Sorren, now showing the physical signs of wear, dropped to the ground as his legs had finally given out. His back rested against the metal frame as he looked up at Brandt, face bloodied and full of confusion.

Brandt, throughout the intensity of the fight, did not hear the audible ambiance of the room growing louder, nor did he sense the increase in heat. A blast of air, along with small metallic objects, burst from behind Brandt as he looked down upon Sorren. The pieces of shrapnel embedded themselves into his back as he reached for support from the frame next to the downed man.

Sorren didn’t stay down for long when he noticed that the equipment housed within the metal structures along the row was beginning to overheat and explode.

“Get up, Sorren.”

A voice that he had become very accustomed to spoke over the intercom. Avery is still around. It was motivating for him but also sobering, knowing that this fight was not over. As Brandt danced around in pain, he took another opportunity as he saw fit to grab onto his opponent’s shirt and toss him headfirst into the metal cage. Brandt crashed hard and fell to the floor. His vision was starting to betray him as Sorren prepared his foot to stomp his face into the ground.

Another server blew, this time behind Sorren, sending an equally painful dose that Brandt had received just prior.

“Don’t give up.”

Brandt heard the familiar voice that had guided him along the way. It had given him a second wind. The room’s noise becoming so loud he could not even hear the sound of Sorren’s body meeting the ground when he took him down with another scissor kick. This time Brandt was quick to gain control as he positioned himself on top of Sorren and put several powerful punches into his face. He grabbed the front of Sorren’s shirt to lift his head off the ground and threw another solid punch straight into his nose, sending his head whipping back and crashing into the ground. The final blow looked like it worked, as the man’s eyes closed, face deep red and dripping with blood, limbs spread eagle across the floor.

Brandt released his grip from Sorren’s shirt. Time to end this. Multiple explosions erupted row by row as the war waged on between Jean and Avery. Brandt’s mind was in another place, one that would ensure the death of his physical adversary. He pushed himself back up and began searching for his gun. A bullet into his brain would offer satisfaction to Brandt and justice for Andrew.

Smoke was starting to collect and thicken from the systems around him, making looking for his weapon more difficult. Brandt hobbled over to where the initial battle with Sorren had broken out, anxiously looking around for the tool he desperately needed.

“Fire Suppression System activating in sixty seconds, please evacuate now.”

Brandt knew exactly what that meant. Something that he had picked up from his interactions with Smith. A combination of argon, nitrogen, and carbon dioxide would be released into the room, suffocating the breathable oxygen. Intended to starve a fire of its fuel, it would also be fatal for those stuck in the room. He had to choose: find the Glock 19 or ensure his survival by escaping the room before the system activated.

The decision was a logical choice. Without oxygen, Sorren would be dead anyways. He abandoned his search and started to make his way to the exit. As he turned around, he saw a sight that defied his belief. There, no more than five feet away and blocking his path, was an upright and bloodied Jeffrey Sorren with pure malice in his eyes and a Glock 19 firmly fixed upon Brandt’s body.

Brandt closed his eyes and heard the five shots over the roar of the room’s equipment. He felt the spray of warm mist upon his face and arms as an object collided with his feet.

Opening his eyes, he looked down the aisle to see Dan alive. There were obvious scorched holes in his shirt but no sign of blood. Looking down, he saw Sorren’s head lying on his feet with the weapon free from his outstretched arm.

“Stop admiring the view! We need to go!” Dan yelled as loud as he could.

Brandt couldn’t make the words out, but the wave Dan gave was a more obvious sign that they needed to get out of there now.

“Ten seconds until fire suppression systems are online.”

Brandt picked up the Glock 19 and bolted towards Dan. They ran as fast as they could, slamming into the wooden double doors, exiting into the hallway, and falling to the ground.

They heard the sound of the door locking, as the sound of more explosions also ventured out of the room, and then silence. The system was not active, and power had been cut.

The effects of the smoke inhalation had caught up to Brandt as he curled up in a coughing fit on the floor. When he regained control of himself, he turned over to look at Dan. “How? I thought you were dead.”

Dan lifted his shirt to reveal what had saved his life. “When you get to my age, you don’t take as many chances.”

“Body armor.” Brandt leaned in to touch the vest, but his hand was knocked away.

“It still hurts like hell, but at least it was functional. Apparently, your foe was just as eager as you were and didn’t follow up to ensure I was dead. Lucky me, and lucky you.”

“I was stupid, but we got the job done. Hopefully, Jean did her part and it’s truly over.”

“I guess we’ll just have to ask her.” Dan stood up, lent out his hand for Brandt to grab ahold of and pulled him back to his feet. “Let’s get the hell out of here. If the police aren’t already here, I don’t want to stick around to explain everything to them.”

Outside, the pair were met with the blinding sensation of natural light. They were surprised that no emergency services had bothered to show up yet.

“I guess they’re not going to show,” Dan said.

“Well, Jean did say that she had cut all communications. Maybe the police and fire department never received the alarms.”

The parking lot was empty, except for the vehicle they had arrived in and a white truck at the very back of the lot. Brandt was disgusted by the sight of it. They both walked towards Dan’s car, no longer feeling the urge to look around them.

As Dan unlocked the driver’s side door, he turned to Brandt. “Are you sure you don’t want to get to a hospital first? You look pretty banged up.”

“Afterwards,” Brandt said as he tried the handle to the passenger side door.

“Fine. Then you take the truck.” Dan pointed to the truck that once belonged to Jeffrey Sorren.

“Are you kidding me? I’m not driving that piece of shit.”

“We are not leaving it here, and I don’t feel like answering a bunch of questions about it. So, either take it, or use the chevro-legs.”

Brandt huffed but showed the man who had just saved his life some courtesy by walking to the deranged man’s vehicle.

“Keys are inside. I guess that’s good news.” Brandt wasn’t really convinced that it was good news but said it anyways to appease his friend.

“Follow closely. I don’t need you getting pulled over and having to be bailed out again.”