The Brothers (19 page)

“Keep your eyes on the floor,” Tommy says over the noise. “Don’t look around you.”

I do as he says, but I can feel the men hemming me in, a wall of flesh and testosterone slowly crushing me.

Tommy squeezes my arm gently. “Breathe normally. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.”

I nod. Try to breathe. My vision clears a little. His words and his hand on my arm are helping.

Then we get to the center of the room.

Prentice eyes me in his calculating way. Gabe stands beside him, watching me enter with worried eyes. Tarrish is there, with Noble and Abel. An older man in fine clothing and round spectacles stands beside Prentice. He has his own muscled minions at his back. Maybe he’s the leader of the gang of men who now fill this warehouse. And the beefy man glaring at me from across the room is probably this man’s contestant.

“Well, if it isn’t the lesser brother,” Prentice says with a thin smile. “What are you doing here, Thomas? I thought you disapproved of our games.”

“I do,” Tommy says, not lowering his gaze from Prentice. “Someone had to escort Janine.”

Prentice turns to me. “The lovely Janine. How is our puzzling princess?”

I open my mouth, but Tommy answers for me. “Not well. She’s too ill to compete.”

The spectacled man beside Prentice throws him a worried look.

Prentice chuckles. “Of course she is well enough. Look at her—pink cheeks, clever eyes. She’s fine.” He says the last words like instructions.

I will be fine. I will compete or face Prentice’s wrath.

Tommy bristles but says nothing. His eyes dart to the men with guns. Prentice could end us with the flick of a wrist.

“I appreciate you trying,” I say out the corner of my mouth.

Tommy says nothing and glares at Prentice.

“Let’s take our seats,” Prentice says to the spectacled man. Prentice glares at Tommy long enough that Tommy steps back from me, but he doesn’t sit down in the front like the other men do. He stands at the edge of the circle of light with his arms crossed.

Before sitting, Prentice grips my chin and smiles. “Good luck, puzzle princess.”

His fingers are cold, his eyes like ice. I say nothing and am glad when he releases me.

Tarrish comes up and waves his hands for silence. There’s still no table, no puzzle in the center. I wonder if they’ll bring it in for effect.

“Gentlemen and those not so gentle.” Someone in the crowd moans at Tarrish’s tired joke. “Tonight we have a spectaculified show for you. I gather that you’ve placed your bets and are anxiously awaiting our game. Well, your wait is over!”

A cheer from the crowd. The smell of bodies is making my head swim. Someone throws garbage that skitters near my feet.

“This game will be like none ever played in the history of puzzling! Not only do we have a girl contestant—”

The roar of the crowd drowns out Tarrish’s words for a long time. Men’s eyes lock on me. I try to shrink down, disappear, but the bright lights above won’t let me.

“Like I was saying,” Tarrish says, straightening a dirty necktie he wears over a stained T-shirt. “This game will tax both our contestants’ smarts, agility, and strength, making the contestant that is the most well-rounded the winner!”

“What?” Tommy yells behind me.

I look at him and then at Prentice. His face is stone. He knows he’s sending me to my death. My eyes find Gabe, whose mouth is agape.

Bright lights click on deeper in the warehouse, illuminating what looks like an elaborate obstacle course—high balance beams lead to a mesh of wires six feet deep, and then a flight of stairs up to a contraption with a bag dangling from a rope.

Nowhere do I see a puzzle. What I do see is the massive, muscular man beside me. He flexes his shoulders as he looks me over. For a moment, I can see what he sees—a small, pathetic girl.

No doubt about it. He’ll crush me in this race.

I swallow hard and try to focus on the task at hand. Bell wouldn’t want me to give up. But my fear keeps growing. How can I ever win?

Tarrish smiles wide as he points to the clock. “Set it for ten minutes!”

The big, red numbers appear in the dark.

“On your mark,” Tarrish yells.

I take a deep breath. Steady myself.

“Get set.”

I think of Bell. Of my child.

“Go!”

A figure bolts around me. I turn, surprised. Tommy tears forward, just ahead of my opponent, and mounts the balance beam.

He’s taken my place.

I can’t believe it. He’s really doing it. He’s risking his life for me.

Tommy wobbles on the beam but doesn’t fall. Gabe jumps up and whirls toward Prentice. “End the game! Tommy can’t compete.”

Prentice looks up at Tommy, stepping across the beam, his arms wheeling to keep him balanced. Then he looks toward the fancy man on his right. “He can compete.”

The spectacled man pushes up his glasses. “This is horseshit, Prentice.”

Prentice pulls out a winning smile. “Look at him. He’s still no match for your man, but now at least the odds are more even. More excitement. And the men love the drama of it. A man sacrificing himself for the woman he loves.” Prentice winks at me.

What did he just say? The woman he
loves
?

The spectacled man sniffs. “We’ll let it pass, but I hope this isn’t how you intend to carry on business.”

I tear my eyes away and back to Tommy. He’s halfway across the beam, placing one foot in front of the other like a tightrope walker. The bigger man seems to be struggling with balance. His size must make it difficult. Twice, he nearly falls into shards of broken glass below him.

“Can he solve puzzles?” I ask Gabe.

He shakes his head, not tearing his eyes off his brother, who’s almost to the end of the beam. “If the puzzle is a bike chain or a carburetor, maybe. But logic puzzles?” Gabe shakes his head again. “I can’t believe he did it.”

“Me neither,” I breathe. I didn’t even think he liked me.

Tommy jumps off the end of the beam and lands on the platform. Then he dives into the web of red and gold wires and worms his way through. Twice, his body goes rigid and I realize the wires are electrocuting him.

God, how awful. I never would have stood a chance.

The big man finally makes his way to the end of the beam and barrels himself through the wires on the left side. If the electrical pulses bother him, you’d never be able to tell. He rams through it like a bull charging after a bull fighter.

Tommy, jolting one more time from the current, scrambles through the last of the web and runs up the stairs two at a time.

“He’s winning,” I whisper.

Gabe doesn’t answer. He can’t take his eyes off his twin.

Tommy mounts the top platform and peers around. A wooden structure that looks like a hanging gallows holds a yellow bag instead of a body. It bulges with something Tommy must need to solve the puzzle.

Tommy digs around the platform and holds up a rusty saw.

“He has to cut the rope,” Gabe says.

The big man gets through the web and starts up the stairs, shaking the platform with his girth.

“Oh hurry,” I say as if he could hear me. The crowd around us is deafening.

Tommy saws like mad. The muscles on his arms and neck bulge with the effort. The rope frays under his blade. The yellow bag falls and thuds to the ground. Tommy scrambles over to it as the big man begins sawing his rope.

Tommy pulls out painted, wooden rectangles of all sizes and colors. He holds up several, his brow furrowed.

“There’s the puzzle,” I say to Gabe.

Tommy starts fitting puzzle pieces together, matching the slanted sides of each rectangle, but he doesn’t have much luck. There are too many.

A bag bangs onto the platform. The big man scrambles over to it.

“Let’s hope his dah dropped him on his head as a baby,” Gabe says.

Tommy fits more pieces. The sides seem to be forming some picture. Tommy starts sorting the rectangles by color.

But the big man is looking over at Tommy’s puzzle. He begins to mimic Tommy, fitting his pieces together much faster.

“That’s cheating!” I yell, tugging my hair. No one seems to hear me. No one seems to care.

Tommy sees what the big man is doing and begins frantically fitting pieces. Pictures form on the sides of the wooden box—half a lotus flower on one side, a goldfish on the other. The top is decorated with the same symbol as Prentice’s necklace, a spiral with the upside-down L running through it.

Gabe grabs my hand. “He’s catching up.” He points at the big man. Their puzzles are neck and neck. The crowd is going bananas.

“He can’t lose,” I say. I will shatter if Tommy has to face the hallway after what he did for me.

Tommy fits a piece. The big man fits a piece. The slowly building images creep to completion.

Gabe squeezes my hand until my fingers go numb.

Tommy grabs for his last piece. He’s going to finish!

The big man spots him. He lurches for Tommy.

“No!” I yell.

The big man knocks Tommy’s piece out of his hands. It goes skittering to the back of the platform. Tommy’s face tilts from shock to anger. Then he dives after the piece. The crowd goes crazy.

“No fair!” Gabe shouts. He turns to Prentice. “He’s cheating!”

The big man fits his last piece into the puzzle. He throws his arms into the air in victory.

“We have a winner!” Tarrish shouts. The crowd goes insane.

This cannot be happening.

I look up. Tommy stands on the stage, holding his last piece in his fist. His expression of pure defeat kills me.

He’s going to die because of me.

Behind me, Gabe grabs Prentice by the shirt collar. “You can’t let him enter the hallway! That guy cheated. Tommy would’ve won!”

Prentice slaps Gabe’s hands away. He stands up, straightening his shirt and throwing his shoulders back. When he holds his hands out, the crowd slowly settles. All eyes watch him as he steps into the light.

“The game was fair. Tommy lost. He will face the hallway.”

I stagger into Gabe. His eyes are the widest I’ve seen. He watches as the guards grab his twin and lead him down the stairs.

“This can’t happen,” he says.

We flow forward with the crowd. The jeering, vengeful crowd. Many have lost big money because of Tommy. They will take it out on his flesh.

Gabe uses his height to weave us through the lurching bodies until we get to the front. Prentice stands at the start of the main doors, surrounded by his guards. Gabe steps in front of him.

“Prentice, please.” He begs. “For me.”

Prentice looks away. A guard pushes Gabe back into the crowd.

Three men push through the crowd toward us. Two guards grip Tommy by the arms. He doesn’t struggle. He walks with hard eyes, fisted hands, and a tensed body. He doesn’t look at the crowd who wants to eat him alive. If he’s afraid, you can’t tell.

I’m afraid enough for the both of us.

He passes us, finally meeting our gaze. My eyes swim with tears. Gabe reaches for him, but the guard bats his hand away.

They open the door to the hallway.

The crowd pours in. I see bits of metal and shards of wood in the fists of those hungrily jamming the hallway, whatever they can grab to hurt him.

“We have to stop this,” I say.

Gabe and I step just inside the doors. Every inch of my body is screaming to get out, but there’s no way I’m letting Tommy face this alone.

Once the hallway is humming with bodies, the guards lead Tommy to the doorway and block his exit.

Prentice steps in the small space between the wall of guards. “Thomas Meemick, you have lost the game. You must enter the hallway. If you make it to the door, you are free to go.”

A few of the men chuckle. I’m guessing no one has made it to the door.

Tommy straightens his cap and lifts his chin. His arms are corded lines of muscle; his fists are balls of stone. He faces the thrumming corridor of bodies like a gladiator going into a lion’s den. On either side of the hallway, men jeer and lift implements of torture. The end of the hall looks light-years away.

“Prentice, please,” Gabe says one more time.

Prentice frowns. The two guards push Tommy forward.

The first men attack. One runs at him with a short, wooden club, the other with knotty fists. Tommy stands between them, watching. At the last second, he dives sideways. The man with the club smashes into someone standing along the wall. The second man punches, but Tommy blocks it and jabs quickly, breaking the man’s nose with a crunch and a splatter of blood. Tommy holds something in his fist that I didn’t see before, the last wooden puzzle piece.

“Oh my God,” I say into my hands. “He’s amazing.”

“Get ‘em!” Gabe yells, punching his fist into the air.

Five more peel off the walls. One has a thin, metal rod. Two more circle, trying to grab Tommy. He dodges and punches, but the metal rod slices into his back. Through his shirt, a line of blood blooms.

“No!” Gabe shouts.

Tommy doesn’t have time to nurse his wound. He ducks under a punch and shoves the guy into two others. Bodies smash with awful crunching sounds. A group of fighters forms, jeering and shouting, but they can’t get around those already swinging. It’s mass chaos.

“How can he win?” I ask as I watch him punching and dodging. He’s taken out five men, but five times that many wait to take their place. He’s bleeding from his brow, back, and arm. His knuckles are a shredded mess. But worst of all, his punches are slowing and his breathing comes in ragged gasps.

“He’s wearing out,” Gabe says, shaking his head. “There’s so many.”

“We have to do something,” I say. He dove into the game for me. I should be the one getting beaten. “We can’t let him die.”

Gabe says nothing, but his face is a mask of horror. Someone smashes a piece of splintered wood down on Tommy’s shoulder, and he goes down on one knee. The men descend like vultures.

“They’re going to kill him!” Before I know it, I’m running. I push past bodies, who don’t seem to know enough to stop me. I shove and pull my way through the men until I get to the writhing pile of bodies.