Chapter 11: The Catalyst
The heavy metal door of the storage unit rattled as Briggs pulled it down a few feet, leaving just enough clearance for them to exit later. The shadows in the room deepened.
"Alright, rich boy," Briggs grunted, stepping toward Arthur. "Let's make this easy. You walk to your car quiet-like, and I'll make it quick. You fight me, and I'll use the wrench again. Your choice."
Arthur’s heart hammered against his ribs, but the panic was gone, replaced by a cold, razor-sharp focus. He thought of Leo, pale and screaming on the bedroom floor. He thought of Eleanor, crying alone in the hospital waiting room. He was not going to die in a chemical-soaked storage locker.
As Briggs reached down to cut the zip-ties on Arthur’s ankles, Arthur’s eyes scanned the workbench directly to his right. When Aris had been pacing, he had left the glass beaker of clear liquid dangerously close to the edge of the steel table. Next to it was a Bunsen burner and a rack of heavy glass pipettes.
"I can't walk," Arthur rasped, feigning weakness. He slumped his shoulders, letting his head loll forward. "My leg... you broke something when I fell."
Briggs sighed in annoyance, leaning down closer, his face inches from Arthur’s knees. "Stop whining—"
Arthur didn't hesitate. With every ounce of adrenaline flooding his system, he kicked both his bound legs upward in a vicious, synchronized arc. His heavy leather boot caught Briggs squarely under the jaw.
The mechanic let out a muffled grunt of pain, stumbling backward.
Using the momentum of the kick, Arthur threw his entire body weight to the right. The metal chair tipped over, crashing hard against the stainless-steel workbench.
The impact was violent. The glass beaker teetered on the edge and shattered onto the concrete floor. But more importantly, the heavy metal base of a ring stand toppled off the edge, landing squarely on Arthur’s bound wrists. The sharp edge of the metal base caught the tightened zip-tie, snapping the stressed plastic with a sharp crack.
Arthur’s arms were free.
Briggs was already recovering, roaring in anger and raising the steel wrench.
Arthur scrambled to his knees, his hands grabbing blindly at the debris on the floor. His fingers closed around a jagged, heavy shard of the broken glass beaker. As Briggs lunged forward, swinging the wrench in a deadly arc, Arthur rolled beneath the blow.
He drove his shoulder into Briggs’s knees, sending the larger man crashing into the chemical racks. Glass shattered in a terrifying crescendo. Briggs scrambled to get up, slipping on the pooling chemicals, but Arthur was faster. He grabbed the heavy fire extinguisher mounted on the wall and brought the metal canister down hard on the back of Briggs's skull.
The mechanic collapsed onto the concrete, out cold.
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Arthur dropped the extinguisher, his chest heaving, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Blood dripped from his forehead into his eye, but he ignored it. He heard the roar of an engine outside.
Dr. Aris was leaving.
