Jack was in the process of raising his foot to stomp again when he saw me. Rather than say anything, he simply charged, growling menacingly. I stood my ground as he came barreling towards me – and then tried not to laugh as Jack seemed to run unexpectedly (and painfully) into an invisible wall of sorts. In truth, however, it wasn’t a wall but rather one of the AC units that I’d turned invisible (and I had to hustle to get out of the way, as – with a screech of torn metal – the force of Jack’s impact ripped it from its moorings and sent it skidding across the roof). It wasn’t as satisfying as maybe punching him myself, but it was the next best thing.
The incident left Jack momentarily disoriented, and I used the opportunity to go after the syringe. Switching my vision to the infrared, I noticed that it had rolled away from its prior location – presumably because of Jack’s earthquake mimicry – but didn’t seem to be damaged. Gripping it in my hand but leaving it invisible, I looked back at Jack and saw that he appeared to have recovered.
Jack rushed me again, with similar results as the first time, but he was obviously a quick study. It only took two more unexpected encounters with roofing structures to make him tire of this new game. A little banged up but none the worse for wear, he changed his tactics and gave up on charging at me like a shark that smelled blood in the water.
On my part, I was disappointed. I’d been hoping Jack would be so enraged by me evading him that he’d keep running into things until he knocked himself out. (Or, barring that, at least dazed himself sufficiently for me to inject him with the neural blocker.) Now, noticing the way he stared at me, I could tell that he was thinking of some new way to deal with the problem I represented.
There was about forty feet between us when Jack made his move. Unexpectedly, he reached for a satellite dish that was near him and, in one fluid motion, ripped off the reflector and flung it at me. Shaped like a dish, the reflector came in low and fast, and I instinctively jumped to avoid having it take me out at the knees. It was a critical error.
Once, years ago, I’d had a short stint playing basketball in an intramural league. We’d been fortunate to have as our coach a neighborhood mom who had played both in college and professionally. One of the things she’d taught us was that when you have the ball and someone’s defending you, if you can get them to leave their feet you’ve got the advantage, because they’re committed at that point.
That’s exactly what Jack had gotten me to do. Jumping up had committed me to a course that I couldn’t deviate from; once I was in the air, I couldn’t do anything but go back down. And Jack, apparently guessing what my reaction would be to the projectile he’d flung my way, had followed up on his throw by immediately leaping at me.
In the movies, it would have been one of those scenes where everything slows down: as Jack came at me, I would have brought up the syringe, popped the protective cap off, and put my thumb on the plunger. And then, as he reached me, we’d go down to the ground with him on top of me. A moment later, I roll him off me, with the syringe sticking out of his chest. Cue applause.
None of that happened.
Having left my feet, I saw him coming at me and realized there was nothing I could do. There certainly wasn’t time to get the syringe in position to inject him. All I could really do was try to brace myself somewhat as he hit me like a missile.
I went down hard, banging my head soundly on the surface of the roof as once again I had the wind knocked out of me. At the same time, I lost my grip on the syringe, which went skittering off to the side. I was a little stunned and trying to get my bearings when I found myself hoisted off the ground by the neck. Jack, holding me aloft with one hand, smiled.
“I told you this wouldn’t end pleasantly for you,” he reminded me. “I’m sincerely sorry it has to be this way.”
Slowly, he began to squeeze.
Chapter 90
Feet dangling, I clawed and beat frantically at the hand gripping me, but to no avail. My efforts made no impression on Jack – I’m not even sure he felt them. As my body began to run out of air, I started to see spots before my eyes. In about a minute or less, I’d pass out and it would all be over.
Oddly enough, what flitted through my mind at that point wasn’t nostalgic memories of my family, recollections of having fun with my friends, or reflections on time spent with my girlfriend. No, what popped up in my brain was what I considered the one silver lining that would come out of dying by Jack’s hand: I wouldn’t have to work for Gray now.
Gray! Just the name brought to mind a crucial fact I’d forgotten, and gave me a slim sliver of hope.
Almost in a panic, I began trying to alter my features. I didn’t even know if I still had my shapeshifting ability, as I hadn’t tried it
