Page 50 of Harris

Harris, Apollo, and Hendrix took the upstairs bedroom, while Shaw and Fletcher took the basement, and Gunner kept watch. Harris had no desire to go back down there again either. Silently, they made their way through the kitchen, down the hallway, and up the stairs to the second level.

There were four doors; if the schematics were correct, three were bedrooms, and one was the bathroom. Methodically, they made their way from one bedroom to the next. The first room on the right was empty, followed by a sparse bathroom on the left with only the basics. Soap, comb, towel, and an electric razor, no blades.

They reached the third door and the first one that was closed; all the others had been open. When he went to turn the knob, it was locked, and he realized that this was the only door that had a keyed lock, meaning it was locked from the outside.

“Anyone know how to pick a lock?” Harris asked. “Woodley usually does this.”

“Yes,” Apollo said just before lifting his foot and slamming his boot into the door, crashing it open.

“Effective but definitely noticeable,” Hendrix said.

“I don’t care anymore,” Apollo said. “I’m done sneaking around. That bastard has been fucking with us long enough.”

The big guy was past his limit and Harris understood that feeling all too well. Harris led the way into the room, Glock at the ready. The room was dark, and wood planks covered the lone window. Hendrix flicked on his pocket flashlight and swept it across the room. There was a single bed with blankets balled up in a pile at its center. At first, Harris thought the room was empty until he noticed a slight movement under the blankets.

“Come out,” Apollo ordered.

Nothing.

Harris moved forward, and Hendrix mirrored him on the opposite side of the bed. With a nod, Hendrix tore the blankets off the mattress, and Harris immediately lowered his gun. Lying under the blankets was the man they’d seen with Soloman, the traitor, but he was unconscious and chained by one of his hands to a large eyebolt screwed into the floor.

Apollo reached down to check the mystery man’s pulse, and when he moved the shirt out of the way, Hendrix gasped.

“What the fuck is that?” Hendrix asked.

“A shock collar,” Apollo answered with a growl. “I get the feeling this guy wasn’t so much of a follower of Soloman than a prisoner.”

“Fuck,” Harris growled as he noticed the burn marks around the guy’s throat.

“He’s Soloman’s son,” Hendrix said. “I can see the line.”

“Let’s get him out of here,” Harris said as he holstered his gun. “The cuff is locked with a padlock. We need a key.”

“No, we don’t,” Apollo stated before he reached down and grabbed the chain.

Within seconds, the links touching his palm disintegrated into dust. Then he reached up and did the same thing with the metal collar. That was a handy ability to have.

“I can also disrupt the molecules that make up any object and break it down to its base elements,” Apollo explained.

“Cool. Hendrix and I will check out the last room,” Harris said. “Can you stay here with this guy?”

“Yes,” Apollo said.

Harris returned to the hallway with Hendrix on his six. It didn’t take long to clear the last room, considering it was as empty as the first one. When he returned to Apollo, he had the stranger in his arms, still unconscious.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Apollo said.

“Agreed.”

By the time they made it back downstairs, Shaw and Fletcher were waiting for them.

“Is that the guy working with Soloman?” Shaw asked.

“More accurately, prisoner,” Harris said while holding up what was left of the chain.

“Fucking asshole,” Fletcher said. “He had the guy chained?”

“And wearing a shock collar,” Apollo said, turning so they could see the burns on the guy’s throat.

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