The hood was once again removed. James stood in a large room, probably an old conference room, with torn-up carpet and bare walls. It was empty except for James and the six other men, who all trained their rifles on him. Great.
The wall next to James was covered in floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the rest of downtown, only there was no glass.
James took a step back, his breath catching in his chest. The man closest to James laughed and shoved him forward, onto his knees. The edge of the window dropped before him, so close he could feel the wind whipping against his face. James scrambled back. His legs tangled beneath him and he fell, sprawling on the floor. More laughter erupted around him.
“See that, loudmouth?” the leader said, crouching next to James and pointing to the window. “If you don’t shut up, we’re gonna make you fly. Even if you do shut up, we’re gonna make you fly. See the puzzle you’ve got yourself in?”
“I’ve always wanted to fly,” James muttered.
The man sighed. “Grab him and hold him by the edge. If you drop him before we’re ready, I’ll have your heads.”
Two men came forward and pulled James to his feet. They each grabbed one of his cuffed-together arms and marched him toward the window. James dug his heels into the floor, but a teenager was no match against two grown men. A moment later, he stood with his toes hanging off the edge. The only thing keeping him from falling five stories to the ground was the men holding him—and they were waiting on a signal to drop him anyway. Again, great.
The wind buffeted James’s face. The city lay below him, the main street cutting perpendicular through a small downtown with only a few notable buildings. Just past the downtown, among the trees, were the suburbs and his high school, which was probably surrounded by police and being evacuated. Further beyond that was his house, which he hoped to return to tonight. He had math homework.
A few minutes passed. They stood in silence, James surveying the scenery, acutely aware of the four assault rifles trained on his back. It made him squirm, even though they would never shoot him. He was too valuable. But if they were stupid enough to think this plan would work, they were stupid enough to accidentally pull the trigger.
Finally, James saw it. Merely a speck on the horizon now, but it would grow fast.
“You know,” James said, turning his head so they could hear him over the wind. “Do you want to hear why this plan is a disaster?”
“Shut up,” the man holding his left arm said, giving him a little shove. James’s foot shot off the ledge, and he would have fallen into the empty air if it weren’t for the men holding him.
“No, really,” James said once his foot was firmly back on solid ground. “I think feedback is important. If you’re ever going to succeed, you’ve got to improve.” The speck in the sky grew bigger, hurtling toward them. But they hadn’t spotted it. Not yet.
“Well,” James continued when he got no reply, “number one, you just kidnapped James goddamn Bolt.” He strained his neck to glance back. The cold eyes of the assault rifles stared back at him. “Can you think of any time someone attacked me and was successful? No? That’s because there isn’t one. Everyone that tried is either stuck behind bars or dead. Or worse, expelled.”
“Turn him around,” came the leader’s gruff voice from behind. James named him Gruffy in his mind. The two men holding James awkwardly shuffled around so he was facing into the room.
Gruffy punched him in the face.
His head snapped back with a crack, his vision blurring. Pain shot up his cheekbone, and his legs gave out, pulling his arms out of the men’s grasp and sending him crashing to his knees right on the edge of the open window.
Gruffy knelt in front of him, signaling for the two men to move aside.
“And I just punched James goddamn Bolt,” he said, the gold tooth glinting as he smirked and held up his gloved fist. “And my hand did not fall off.”
James sighed. “Your second mistake,” he said, moving his jaw around to make sure nothing was broken. “The biggest mistake of all. You assumed I was afraid of heights.”
Gruffy furrowed his brow. “What is that suppose—”
James threw himself backward. Gruffy yelled and reached out, but his fingers merely brushed the soft fabric of James’s shirt. James fell back, out of the window.
He plummeted through the air, turning to face the rapidly growing pavement. He closed his eyes and braced for impact. But it never came.
An arm reached around his chest and grabbed him under the armpits. Suddenly, he was flying sideways rather than downward. But the momentum of the fall kept pulling him down, and James slipped from the grip of the arm, falling the final foot to the ground with a whoosh. He rolled over the hard pavement several times before coming to a stop, face-down. His entire body felt aflame, like he’d been rubbed with a giant piece of sandpaper. He tasted blood and groaned.
Someone landed lightly on the ground beside him.
“You’re an idiot,” Derek Bolt said, flipping James onto his back. “Are you okay?”
James looked up at his older brother, dressed in a tank top and athletic shorts, his hair wild from his flight. “What a save,” he muttered, wiping blood from the
