“Power drill. Three-sixteenths bit.” Orc laughed ruefully. “Guess I’m lucky it wasn’t the three-quarter-inch, huh?”
“That’s messed up, man,” Howard said. He’d always known that Orc came from a tough home. But a power drill was off the hook. He himself came from a fairly average home, neither of his parents was a drunk or violent or anything. Howard did what he had to do to survive, being small and weak and not popular. He liked being in charge, having people scared of him, so being Orc’s friend had worked out for him.
But now Howard was starting to see that though Orc was stupid, he wasn’t wrong. Orc and School Bus Sam, the big hero, were never going to get along.
And now, Howard was as trapped as Orc.
Trapped.
“Okay, then,” Howard said. “We go to Caine.”
Orc belched loudly. “Caine’s mad at us.”
“Yeah,” Howard said. “But he still needs us.”
THIRTY-SIX
84 HOURS, 41 MINUTES
“HOLD HIM DOWN,” Diana yelled.
The sound of her voice was far off. Drake Merwin heard it bubbling up through a red scream that filled his brain.
Screaming, screaming, screaming everywhere, all through his brain, from a million mouths, rising and falling, gasping for breath.
“I can hold him,” a voice said. Caine. “Back away on three. One…two…”
Drake flailed madly, unbound, shrieking, thrashing, hurting himself but unable to stop. The pain…he had never felt anything like it, never imagined anything could be like it.
A force pressed down on him like a thousand hands holding him with firm pressure.
“You have the saw?” Diana’s voice asked. Not smug now, not smug at all, but raw and horrified.
Drake struggled against the invisible force, but Caine had him pinned down with his telekinetic power. Drake could only scream and curse, and could barely move his facial muscles enough for that.
“I am not doing this,” Panda said, weeping. “I’m not sawing off his arm, man.”
The words sent a shock of terror to join the pain. His arm? They were…
“He’ll kill me if I do it,” Panda said.
“I’m not doing it,” various voices chimed in. “No way.”
“I’ll do it,” Diana said, disgusted. “You’re all such big tough guys. Give me the saw.”
“No, no, no!” Drake screeched.
“It’s the only way to stop the pain,” Caine said, almost showing some emotion, some pity. “The arm is done for, Drake-man.”
“The girl…the freak…,” Drake gasped. “She could fix it.”
“She’s not here,” Caine said bitterly. “She’s gone with Sam and the rest of them.”
“Don’t cut off my arm,” Drake cried. “Let me die. Just let me die. Shoot me.”
“Sorry,” Caine said. “But I still need you, Drake. Even one-handed.”
There was the sound of someone bursting into the room. “All I could find was Tylenol and Advil,” Computer Jack said.
“Let’s get this over with,” Diana snapped.
Impatient to maim him. Looking forward to it.
“You do this, he’s going to kill you,” Panda warned.
“Oh, Drake’s already decided he wants to do that,” Diana said. “Tighten the tourniquet.”
“He’s going to bleed to death,” Jack warned. “There must be big arteries in his arm.”
“He’s right,” Caine said. “We need a way to seal the stump.”
“It’s already cauterized,” Diana said. “I just need to cut below the burn.”
“Yeah, okay,” Caine agreed.
“I can’t reach him through your force field,” Diana said. “Can you pull it back to keep his left side paralyzed, and maybe Panda and some of these other supposedly tough guys can grab on to his stump.”
“Let me get a towel, at least. I don’t want to touch that,” Panda said with revulsion.
“Nobody cuts my arm,” Drake rasped. “I’ll kill anyone who touches me.”
“Let him up, Caine,” Diana snapped.
The elephant was off Drake’s chest, he could move again. But now Diana’s face was inches from his, her dark hair hanging down on his tear-streaked face.
“Listen, you stupid thug,” Diana said. “We’re cutting off the pain. As long as that burned stump is there, you’ll be like this. You’ll be screaming and crying and wetting your pants. Yeah, you’ve peed yourself, Drake.”
Somehow that fact shocked Drake into silence.
“You have one hope. Just one. That we cut off the dead part of your arm and do it without starting the bleeding again.”
“Anyone cuts me dies,” Drake said.
Diana pulled back, out of Drake’s view.
Caine said, “Do it. Panda. Chunk. Grab that stump.”
The pressure was on Drake again, immobilizing him. He didn’t feel the towel that was wrapped around his arm or the grip of hands. That part of his arm was naked bone, all flesh melted away, nerves burned off, dead. The pain started higher up, where just enough nerve endings still survived to slam his fevered brain with wave upon wave of agony.
“It’s not Diana or Panda or Chunk or even me,” Caine said. “It’s none of us, Drake. It’s Sam. It’s Sam who did this to you, Drake. You want him to get away with it? Or do you want to live long enough to make him suffer?”