Don't touch them.

Chapter 13

   I duck back behind the door, out of sight. If they're holding him, they want something. He looked so scared...
   "What's the matter?" James asks.
   "I need you to go to the kitchen, in the very back, and call the police. Grab a knife, and stay there." I whisper. His eyes widen.
   "Dain?" He asks.
   "Get the others too. I have to go get Samuel. One of them has a knife, the other has a gun. Mayne try to get out the back?"
   "Okay... But where's Sam?" He whispers.
   "That's the tricky part." I grab his wrist and pull him with me to the very back. Snadra and Nate are still blissfuly unaware of the situation, but look up when we creep in. Sandra puts her hands on her hips, grining.
   "You know better than to try and scare me." She laughs. I put my finger to my lips and grab a small knife from the counter. Her face falls, her expression turning to one of horror.
   "Call the police, or the pack worriors or something." I whisper. "Tell them they're armed." I turn and sneak back out of the kitchen despite her quietly yelled protests. James can explain the rest. I don't know what I'm doing, and I feel like my heart's about to explode in my chest... But Sam must be even more scared.
   I take the left door, to the private room, and sneak around to the end, where there's another door in the front, by the podium where the other staff waits to seat guests, for the guests to enter. Thankfully, the building is fairly new and well oiled, so the door doesn't squeak.
   If I go for the one holding Sam, there'll be a gun at wither of our heads. If I go for the gun, the other guy may hurt Sam. I don't think I'd be able to wrestle the gun away... Not very quickly anyway. But if I snuck up on them and stabbed his hand, and he dropped it, I could kick it away and wrestle the knife from Blondie while he's still surprised...
I sneak out of the room. I'm not very far behind them, but thank the Gods for carpet. My shoes on tile would have definitely given me away.
   I get a few yards behind them when Sam starts writhing, trying to get loose, saying "no no no" again and again. But it soon changes "Go! Go back! Call someone!" Effectively confusing his captors. But he's talking to me. He can smell me. The shorter one gets fed up as he slaps him, making him whimper, but stop struggling. Making me even more pissed.
   "I know your back there!" He yells,    "Come on out! We have your son!" He knows them then. Who they are.
   "You called?" I whisper. He spins around, horrified. The gun's raised but I swipe with the knife. He drops it, grabbing his bloodied hand. I kick it away. But the big guy doesn't look so surprised.
   His knuckles connect with my jaw and I stumble back. But I'm careful not to drop my knife in front of shorty. I can't keep my grip on it, but with a flick of my wrist I manage to toss it a ways, so it's out of his immediate reach. I hit the ground hard, my leg twisting painfuly under me.
   I jump to my feet and connect my own fist straight to his nose. At least my knees not broke. I may have pulled something though. I can hear a crunch as he releases Sam, he stumbles back, his face streaked with tears, blood pouring from his nose. Blondie swings his knife for my face.
   "Dain!" Sam cries. I reach up to catch it. Rather my hand than my one good eye. I can feel the blade go through the side of my hand. I can feel it hit the bone. But while he was distracted trying to fucking mutilate me, I slammed my other fist up into his jaw. The best way to knock someone out.
   He stumbles back a step before collapsing to the ground. As he falls, still holding the steak knife that I now recognize from the silverware rolls, he pulls the blade down, through my skin, over my wrist.
   "Ahahahah fuck!" I double over holding my hand to my abdomen. Gods that hurts!
   "Dain!" I spin around to see that the short one has recovered and is stumbling with the knife I had. I groan, tilting my head to the side. It's more irritating than anything.
   "Come on man. Just give it up. Your friend's down for the night." I sigh.
   "This was never about us." He smiles and points the pistol to his chin. I lunge. We hit the ground just as the gun goes off. I can hear a sickening thud, and feel warm blood. For one horrible moment I thought... But it was my blood. He'd shot the wooden base of one of the booths.
   "Dain?!" Sam yells.
   "We're fine." I growl. I use my good arm to grab the guy, one wrist at a time, and pull his arms behind his back, leaning on his wrists with my elbow to pin him in place.
   "Get me something to tie him up with." I pant. Sam runs crying into the kitchen. A few moments later, Sandra walks out, hugging him tightly to her. Nate follows, trembling, and then James. He looks shaken, but also proud. Like he's going to laugh. He rushes to me, his mouth quirked at one side, trying to hide a proud smile. He pulls the duck tape and move my elbow. He quickly restrains the mans wrists before helping me up. I'm soaked with blood.
   "Don't you ever do that again!" Sandra shouts, "I heard all that yelling and that gun and I thought you were hurt! Or worse!" She scolds.
   "He-he was hurt! M-Moma h-he..." But Sam cant stop crying. I limp to them and pull out a chair. Sandra sets him down and pulls one out for me. I sit, leaning back, and stretching my left arm around him.
   "It's okay baby." I whisper, "I've got you. They can't get you now."
   "I-I thought he shot you!" He bawls.
   "He didn't. He didn't, I'm okay." I whisper.
   "Where are you bleeding from?" Sandra gently grabs my forearm, raising it so she can see it better. My whole lower arm is covered in blood so it's practically impossible to see the actual wound. Just then, Heather bursts through the door, followed by Ace and Eve.