DARING – Set out to stop the Spectre only to be caught in the headlights of his getaway van.
The Spectre pressed the nose of the gun into Edwards’s ribs. “Start the engine,” commanded the Spectre. Edwards reluctantly agreed. As he did so, Daring came into view, falling to the ground.
“Run him over,” commanded the Spectre. “Now!” The nose of the automatic buried itself into Edwards’ ribs. Edwards again complied, and the van started to move, picking up speed. Daring did not move, as if daring them to try and run over him.
At the last moment, Edwards veered away, missing Daring by inches.
“Fool!” shouted the Spectre.
“You won’t kill me,” said Edwards defiantly. “You need me to finish the blueprints.”
“True,” remarked the Spectre, pointing the gun at Edwards’s knee. “But if you disobey me a second time, you’ll never walk again.” Edwards knew by the way he said that, that the Spectre was dead serious. “Now, get us out of here.”
The van proceeded to the exit ramp. Old Timer and Johnny Highpitch entered the parking lot just as the van whizzed by. Daring chasing after the van on foot, shouted, “Stop that van!”
Both Old Timer and Johnny knew that they weren’t going to be able to stop the van by themselves. Johnny pulled out a small device. He kneeled and carefully took aim. The device fired a small projectile that attached itself to the van’s bumper.
“Is that what I think it is,” asked Daring as he tried to catch his breath.
“Yep,” replied Old Timer. “One of Teresa’s patented tracer bullets.”
Daring smiled. “First good news all day.”
Edwards awoke with a start. The back of his neck was throbbing with pain. The last thing he remembered was following the Spectre’s direction, and after he pulled up to an abandoned warehouse, the Spectre clubbed him with the gun’s handle. Edwards found himself strapped into an odd-looking chair. Silently, the Spectre slipped into the room via another secret passage. The only door in the room was covered by a large, sinister-looking harpoon cannon.
“You have one hour to live!” hissed the Spectre. “Tell me what I need to know and I will spare your life.”
“Never!”
“You’ll soon change your mind or die!” shouted the Spectre, pointing to the large clock on the wall across from Edwards. “This clock is directly wired into your chair. Every six minutes, the chair will give an electric shock. You’ll barely feel the first one. The second will just tingle a little, while the third will give you a jolt. But the shocks will get progressively worse, and the tenth will kill you. Whenever you choose to end this, feel free to shout. This room’s wired for sound, so I’ll hear every scream of agony.”
“You can’t do this,” muttered Edwards.
“Remember, one hour,” said the Spectre. “And don’t stall because you think Rick Daring’s on his way to rescue you. Even if he managed to somehow find where you are, he would still have to enter that door, and the first person to enter that door will be impaled by this harpoon.” His eerie laughter filled the room until the master criminal left via the secret passage.
Edwards felt a tiny shock as the clock on the wall started its slow, hour-long passage to midnight.
Meanwhile, outside, Sara and Daring crouched at the edge of the warehouse’s parking lot, waiting for the armed guards to pass.
“Black suits you, Sara,” whispered Daring as they hid among the bushes. This comment referred to their stealthy all-black outfits.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” replied Sara in an equally hushed tone. They dashed across the parking lot the second the guards passed around the corner. They stopped when they reached the warehouse, pausing to catch their breath. The warehouse did not look like it had been used in decades, and yet that was where Teresa’s tracer had led them.
“Door?” suggested Daring.
“Broken window,” replied Sara, pointing behind him. They climbed up and through the shattered remains of a large window frame. They kicked up a cloud of dust as their feet hit the ground of the warehouse. The inside was quiet and dark; the only lighting coming from the outside lampposts. Looking around, they could see no immediate guards or resistance of any type.
Daring glanced at his watch. 11:20. It taken precious time to sneak into the warehouse without alerting anyone to their presence. Hopefully, Edwards was being held in a room nearby, and they would make their escape without anyone noticing.
“Let’s split up and start checking these rooms. Maybe we’ll get lucky,” said Daring. They started looking around, but found nothing but cobweb-covered offices long abandoned.
Sara and Daring regrouped, confounded by their results. “He has to be here somewhere. But where?” Daring never got to finish his thought, as Watkins and Davis walked in on them from a secret passage in the wall.
“Intruders!” shouted Watkins. Davis rushed Daring, tackling him to the ground. Daring punched Davis once, twice, but the thug would not let go of him as they rolled around on the ground. Daring kicked at Davis, but it did not weaken his grip on Daring.
Watkins grabbed Sara on the shoulder, but Sara grabbed his wrist and sent him flying, thanks to a patented judo move. Watkins picked himself up, but Sara blocked each of his punches. She hit a nerve cluster in Watkins’s shoulder, and he collapsed to the ground. Looking back, Sara saw that Daring was still struggling with Davis. She quickly entered the secret passage and started to climb up the stairs.
Meanwhile, Edwards’s body was racked with pain. His muscles were sore from convulsing, and his mouth had the taste of rubber. He had endured nine shocks so far, and true to the Spectre’s word, each was worse than the previous, and Edwards knew that he would not survive the next one. He watched with weary eyes as the clocked counted down the final until midnight. He gritted his teeth, bracing himself for the inevitable.
Edwards wanted to be strong enough to face death, rather than surrender to the Spectre. But now tested, he found that he was not that type of man, and a minute before midnight, Edwards shouted, “You win! I’ll help you!”
Just then, the door opened, and Sara walked into the room. There was a whirr of machinery, and the harpoon was launched directly at her.
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Written by J M Emmons. The story and all characters are copyrighted by J M Emmons.
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