KnockOut

stared down at her, and then something very strange happened.
    Blessed didn’t talk, didn’t seem to be able to move.
    Suddenly, his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed to the floor.
    Kjell was at Blessed’s side in an instant. He dropped to his knees and shook him. “Keeper! Wake up!” He reached out to grab Autumn. “What did you do to him? What?”
    Kjell realized the danger too late. He leaped to his feet, brought up his gun, but Ethan was on him. He kicked the gun from his hand.
    Ethan had wondered if Kjell was trained to fight, and he was. But Ethan had learned karate and some of the dirtiest street fighting on the planet—in the Philippines. He’d gotten himself stomped before he learned being vicious could be the only way to stay alive. He went after Kjell with everything he knew, with all the rage he felt. Joanna pulled Autumn to her, her hand over her eyes so she couldn’t see the violence, but she knew Autumn heard the slamming of fists against flesh, the grunts, the brief silences, which were worse, and knew the instant Ethan broke Kjell’s nose and his glasses. Blood flew out to streak down the white wall behind him.
    She watched Kjell, blood pouring down his face, land a kick in Ethan’s kidney, watched him stumble back and fall, then roll back onto his feet. He went at Kjell furiously, his fist to his jaw, a kick to his belly, his other fist hard into his broken nose. Kjell, utterly silent to this point, fell back and moaned.
    Joanna’s heart nearly stopped when Kjell jumped at Ethan, dragged him down to the white floor. They rolled over and over, grunting, hitting each other in the head, each trying to gain leverage.
    And then it was over. Ethan, on top, reared back and sent the heel of his hand into Kjell’s broken nose, sending droplets of his blood flying. Kjell didn’t make a sound. His eyes rolled back and he went limp. Ethan shook his hand, rubbed his bloody knuckles.
    Joanna’s mouth was so dry she couldn’t find the spit to speak. Finally she whispered, “Is he dead?”
    “Yes.” Ethan got slowly to his feet and stared down at the young man. What had Caldicot Whistler promised him if Kjell obeyed him? Great wealth? Power? Had Kjell killed the people Autumn had seen the Backmans burying? Now nothing mattered to him. He was dead. Ethan picked up Kjell’s gun and put it in his belt.
    Blessed moaned and sat up. He clapped his hands to his head and began to weave back and forth. He looked at Ethan, then at Joanna, looked hard, but he didn’t look at Autumn. He clutched his forehead in his hands and whispered, “This cannot be, it cannot,” and he fell onto his side again and began crying.
    Ethan said, “Autumn, what did you do to Blessed?”
    Autumn was deathly pale. Ethan went down on his knees and pulled her against him. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know it’s bad, but I need you to pay attention to me right now, okay? This is super-important. Tell me what you did to Blessed.”
    “I didn’t do anything, Ethan, I only—”
    The door in the wall suddenly closed again.
    Ethan knew they didn’t have much time. He said, “We’re going to get out of here. We’ll go back the way we came.”
    “Ethan.”
    He turned to see Joanna staring down low on the wall. He heard gas snaking out from a small white vent not six inches above the floor. He cursed under his breath. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
    He scooped Autumn up in his arms and ran to where they’d first entered the white room, Joanna right behind him. Even though he could see the outline of the sliding door, he couldn’t see how to open it.
    “There has to be something,” Joanna said. “There has to be.” Ethan went on his knees in front of Autumn. “We’re going to run our palms over this wall, look for a button, anything. Breathe real light; try not to let the gas get to you.”
    They couldn’t find a way out. Ethan slammed his shoulder against the door, but it was solid. He could smell the gas, feel it against his skin. He ripped off his shirt, ran back to the low vent in the wall, and dropped to his knees. He stuffed his shirt as best as he could between the narrow slats. But to do any good at all, he had to hold the shirt in place.
    Joanna fell to her knees beside him, shoved up her shirt, and unclipped her bra. “Move your shirt.” As she stuffed her bra between the slats, Ethan yelled, “Autumn, go over by the far wall and pull your T-shirt up over your nose and