While Paige was busy with the two guards in the next aisle over, James turned his attention to the window. The guard whose rifle he had heated almost flew through the window as someone behind him shoved him the rest of the way into the warehouse. Then James saw the end of an assault rifle poke through the window and he dove aside. A series of bullets stitched their way across the floor behind him, barely missing him.
James landed heavily on his chest, madly scrambling out of the line of fire until he was shielded by the forklift. But while the shooter could not see him, James could not see the window either.
On the floor beyond the forklift the guard with the burned hands had managed to push himself up to his knees. James was trying to decide what to do about him when the guard looked up and locked eyes with him. Once he saw James crouching behind the forklift a look of rage settled on his features.
The guard pushed himself to his feet, scowled at James for a moment, then charged. James was so surprised that he couldn’t react. In that brief moment of hesitation the guard was on him. Although the guard couldn’t use his hands, James found himself immediately on the defensive, warding off the man’s attack as he battled using his elbows and feet. An especially quick uppercut with his elbow knocked James to the floor. Shaking off the blow, James looked up to see the guard standing over him. As the man started to draw his foot back James kicked upward, striking him solidly in the groin. The guard’s eyes crossed. He grabbed his injured crotch with both hands as he dropped to his knees and collapsed onto his side.
James scrambled to his feet and stood over the guard. Although curled into a fetal position and clenching his teeth in pain, the guard glared up at him. James knew that as soon as he recovered this guy was going to come after him. He gave it a moment’s thought, then kicked the guard in the face as hard as he could. The guard flopped over onto his belly and lay still.
Just then something struck him in the back of his head. Stars exploded in his vision. He pitched forward, landed on his chest and managed to roll himself onto his back. Standing over him was another guard who must have come through the window while he was fighting the first man. The guard lowered the butt of his weapon, tucked his rifle into his shoulder, and took aim at James.
James was finding it hard to think. It was like his head was stuffed with cotton. He looked up, meeting the eyes of the guard standing over him as the man prepared to execute him. The guard smiled down at him, amused at the teen’s defiance. He would wipe that look off of his face in a moment.
James’ eyes flicked to the gun, focusing on the weapon as the man slid his finger into the trigger guard. There was a sizzling sound. An odd look came over the guard’s face. A moment later the guard gave a loud scream as he dropped his weapon. The guard threw back his head and howled at the top of his lungs. A moment later he looked down at his ruined palms and suddenly stopped moving, an expression of anguish frozen on his face. It was like he had been turned into a mannequin.
James squirmed backward, putting some distance between himself and the guard as he shook his head to clear it. The guard remained frozen in place. Then, from somewhere in the shadows a piece of metal pipe flew at the guard, striking him in the face with a crunch and knocking him to the floor.
James’ head was beginning to clear as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. Just then another guard pulled himself through the window and dropped to the floor. The new guard scrambled to his knees and suddenly froze as well. James realized that it had to be Manny making the guards freeze. Before Manny could make the man do anything a burst of machine gun fire erupted from the window. Bullets sprayed in all directions as the guard in the window laid down covering fire. The tactic worked. The first guard blinked and came back to his senses as Manny released him. As the man in the window continued to spray bullets into the warehouse the first guard lunged for the forklift, grabbing for one of the control levers.
“Stop him, James! He’s unblocking the window!” Matt’s voice yelled from somewhere above him.
Still groggy from the blow to his head, James raised a hand and focused on the lever. The man snatched his hand away as the control lever suddenly became too hot to touch. Then, as James continued to heat the lever, the control rod began to sag and bend. Apparently it was made of a less resilient material than their guns. In moments it had melted into a formless lump on the console. The lever could no longer be used, but the damage was already done. The lever had controlled the forks. The guard’s action had lowered the crate below the bottom edge of the window. Now there was nothing to prevent anyone from climbing through the open window.