Andy McDermott - The Tomb Of Hercules

“Well, it crossed my mind!” They both laughed.

And then the door opened.

Chase and Nina jumped to their feet as Komosa entered, gun in hand. “Not quite what I expected to hear,” he said with mocking disapproval. “But I can soon put that right.”

“You still here?” Chase asked. “Sophia dumped you already, has she?”

“Actually, she asked me to put you out of her misery.” Komosa moved to stand between Chase and Nina, just out of reach of either of them. “I’ll be leaving with her in a minute. She has a good vantage point picked out on Staten Island.”

“Yeah, you can see all the best landfill sites from there,” Nina told him sarcastically.

“So, Sophia’s finally let you come and kill us?” said Chase.

“No,” replied Komosa, pointing his gun at Chase, “just you. She wants Dr. Wilde to suffer much grief in her last few minutes alive.”

Nina’s defiance was swept away by a wave of cold horror at the thought, but before she could react Komosa continued. “But I have a better idea. I want you both to suffer-especially you, Chase. So I’m going to shoot you in the gut. You’ll spend the last few minutes of your life in unbearable agony-and you,” he added, looking back at Nina, “will have to stand there and watch.” He aimed his gun down at Chase’s stomach.

“Don’t I get any famous last words?” Chase growled.

Komosa smirked. “Only ‘aargh!’” He thumbed the chromed hammer back with a click-

Chase lunged at him, lashing out with his legs as the chain of his handcuffs rasped around the pipe. Komosa, caught by surprise, stepped back even though he was out of range.

He recovered his composure, took aim again, smiled- and lurched forward as Nina delivered a flying kick with both feet into his back.

She dropped hard onto the deck, cuffed arms outstretched above her head. Komosa staggered forward before regaining his balance-

Crack!

Chase leaped up and delivered a brutal head butt that split the giant’s lower jaw in two between his front teeth, a sharp edge of bone slicing through Komosa’s gum and lip.

The Nigerian screamed, his mouth gushing with blood as Chase landed, head level with his chest.

Chase clamped his teeth around the silver ring piercing Komosa’s left nipple and pulled back with all his might, dragging his opponent towards the pipe before the ring tore loose, ripping a chunk of bloody flesh out with it.

His own face streaming with blood from a deep gash on his forehead, Chase spat out the gory jewelery and swung around the pipe to grab Komosa’s gun with his cuffed hands, pointing it away from him as he tried to twist it from the other man’s fist.

But despite the pain, Komosa was recovering. Mouth hanging open, a revolting mix of blood and saliva drooling out over the now jagged line of his teeth, he lifted his arm…

And kept lifting.

Chase clung to the gun with both hands, but was powerless to stop himself from being hauled into the air, his chest thumping against the pipe as his feet left the floor. Tendons in the huge man’s arm strained through his skin like steel cables, veins bulging as Komosa let out a gurgling snarl of pure rage.

His other arm drew back to strike…

Chase realized he would never be able to wrench the gun out of Komosa’s hand-his grip was too strong, the steel clench of a vise.

Instead, he changed his hold, jamming his left thumb into the trigger guard over Komosa’s forefinger. With his wrists together, the handcuff chain was slack-he flicked it up with his other thumb as he forced Komosa’s finger harder onto the trigger-

Blam!

The bullet blasted the chain apart, pieces scattering across the hold.

Even though his hands were now free, Chase didn’t release his grip on the gun-the moment he did, Komosa would shoot him. Still hanging from the man’s raised arm, he slammed a knee up into his groin.

Komosa flinched back, the obstructing pipe preventing Chase from scoring anything more than a glancing impact. The blow from his other arm finally came. Chase tried to twist to avoid it, but the African’s knuckles plowed into his stomach with the force of a train.

He groaned, the sickening punch driving the wind out of him. His right hand lost its grip on the gun, setting him swinging wildly as Komosa abruptly moved back-

Chase’s head slammed against the pipe with a dull clong of bone against metal. Stars of indescribable colors went supernova in his vision, new levels of pain searing through his skull.

His left thumb clenched again-

On the helipad, waiting impatiently beside the tilt-rotor, Sophia looked around sharply as she heard the faint sound of another shot from below. Then she jumped into the cabin. “Take off! Quickly!”

The men already aboard looked at her in surprise. “What about Mr. Komosa?” asked the pilot.

“Go!” she screamed. “Get us out of here, now!”

The only reason for her to hear a second shot was if something had gone wrong-

The bullet smacked into the far wall. His nauseating dizziness worsened by the ringing in his ears, Chase was unable to resist as Komosa bashed his left wrist against the pipe, trying to break his hold on the gun and knock him to the floor.

Another blow. Something crunched. His fingers were slipping…

Through a haze of pain, he saw Komosa’s blood-streaked face. Go for his eyes , training and instinct told him. Too far. Komosa’s reach was greater than his own. Which only left-

With a desperate burst of strength, Chase whipped up his right arm to stab at the gun with his thumb.

Not at the trigger, but the magazine release button behind it.

With a clink, the magazine dropped out. Then Chase went for the trigger, squeezing his left thumb for a third and final time to fire the remaining round in the chamber. The Browning’s slide locked back.

Before the magazine reached the deck, Chase swung his foot and booted it across the hold. It hit the wall near Nina and clattered to the floor.

Komosa’s eyes bulged with anger. He smashed Chase’s wrist against the pipe again. This time, the pain was too much and Chase let go, stumbling and falling onto his back.

He was free of the pipe at last, but that was no consolation as the furious Komosa descended upon him.

The gun swung down at his head. Chase just barely brought his hands up in time to block the impact, but Komosa struck again, and again, the hard metal finally cracking against his skull. Chase’s head thudded back against the deck.

He groaned. Through the blur of his vision he could make out the bomb about eight feet away, the clock still couting down. From outside the ship he heard the roar of engines: the tilt-rotor taking off and rapidly peeling away.

Komosa got up, looking for the magazine. He spotted it and staggered towards Nina.

She saw Chase roll onto his side and crawl slowly, painfully, towards the bomb. Whatever he was doing, she had to give him more time.

She couldn’t reach the fallen magazine with her hands. But she could with her feet-

Using the pipe for leverage, Nina swept around and kicked the magazine just as Komosa reached for it, sending it spinning across the hold to bang against the far wall. He hissed something incoherent, blood bubbling from his cut lips, then kicked her hard in the stomach before shambling after the clip of bullets.

Chase reached the bomb. He gripped the vertical rails, pulling himself forward.

Komosa scooped up the magazine and slammed it back into place, the slide springing forward to load another bullet into the chamber. He turned to take aim at Chase-and found Chase aiming at him .

“Pierce off!” Chase snarled as he fired the bolt gun.