Heroic Measures (continued)

Nothing noteworthy had happened during the previous four nights he had watched out for her. Twice, one of the male co-workers had remained behind and walked her to her car. From what Walter could see, he did not appear to be particularly fit or capable of protecting her if they were accosted, but his mere presence by her side might have been enough to deter anyone looking for easy prey. The other nights she had walked to her car without incident, although there had been a tense moment when Walter two figures approach her from the opposite direction. They turned out to be a couple walking back to their car after a late dinner. Walter had wondered then who had been more unnerved by that encounter: the girl or himself.

From the shadows were he waited, he continued to watch the building. Even at this hour, the evening remained warm. A warm breeze rustled the dry leaves of the trees that dotted the city street. Their shadows made flickering mosaics of black and gray on the sidewalks and streets below him. Walter scratched at the collar of his outfit. It itched, not only there, but pretty much anywhere that he tended to perspire. I really need to find a new material for this thing. He grimaced as he realized that he was considering the relative merits of clothing fabrics. It was not something that a young man his age should spend his time thinking about. The persistent itch behind his knees told him otherwise.

There was little traffic on this street at this time of night. Few of the businesses established here remained open much past early evening, with shop were the girl worked being the chief exception. There were none that, such as the glut of gaudily-lit bail bonds offices located several blocks away near the city jail, remained open all night. Most of the restaurants, nightclubs, and bars were located three or more blocks further north. This area rarely even saw use for parking at night unless there was a major event downtown that drove customers this far from the venue in an attempt to locate free parking. It would remain almost empty until early morning when the first of the offices reopened for business.

Two longer shadows suddenly cut through the shifting patterns. Walter looked further ahead to see two dark-clad figures moving down the sidewalk. Their movements appeared furtive. They kept mostly to the dark bands of shadow that ran along the façades of the buildings. One appeared to be carrying something that he attempted to hide from casual view. They paused at the front of each office, peering none too casually into the front windows. One then did something unseen near the door, presumably checking the door, Walter guessed, while the other one kept checked to see if anyone else was nearby. More than once, the figure had glanced in Walter’s direction, but had apparently seen nothing. Probably, Walter decided, because they expected no one to be there.

Walter watched their progress as they made their way down the street. So far, they had not done anything strictly illegal, at least nothing Walter felt was worth taking a chance at getting shot at it for confronting them about. If his guess was right, at least one of them was probably in violation for carrying a concealed weapon. In truth, though, he thought the figure was doing a poor job of actually trying to conceal it. That did not mean that the other person was not carrying a weapon as well, but at the moment he had no proof of it.

The two figures kept moving, stopping for no more time than was absolutely necessary at each door. Walter felt his tension increase as they neared the shop where the girl worked. He hoped that, with the business closed for the day, the front door would be locked. Even if they realized that she was still inside, the pair might be deterred by having to make their way through the locked door to get at her. Walter had no idea, though, of what they were after. If there were simply after cash, then they might be willing to smash their way, get what they could, and then hurry away before the police could arrive.

The faint scrape of metal drew his attention back the scene ahead. The girl stepped into view at the doorway of the building. She turned, apparently fumbling with a handful of keys in order to lock the door. The sounds she made had caught the two figures’ attention as well. Now two doors away, they paused, one visibly nudging the other one. A very brief conversation followed and the pair quickly closed the distance between themselves and the girl.

Walter flexed slightly, stretching his cramped muscles, preparing for the leap that would carry him to her aid. Ahead, the girl heard the approach of the two figures, and turned around. Before she could react further, one of them grabbed her, forcing her arms behind her with one arm while wrapping its other arm around her throat. The other figure pointed the weapon at her. The shape of its dark silhouette told Walter that it was probably a shotgun of some type: not the kind of firearm one wanted to encounter at close range. He gave the girl silent credit for neither struggling nor screaming, although it was possible that she was in no position to do either. Guns had a nasty habit of going off when one of the perpetrators panicked at the uncooperative behavior of their intended victims.

Waiting no longer, Walter dropped down from his hiding place, hitting the ground with a reassuring lightness. Staying crouched low to the ground, he glanced toward the scene at the doorway. Their positions remained unchanged; they had not seen him. A silent smile danced momentarily across his lips. So far, so good.

Now came the hard part. He would have to rely on surprise, speed, and a good measure of luck. Judging from their relative sizes, he could probably manage the one holding the girl by himself, but the other man was larger—and clearly armed. He was not. And there were two of them. He had no idea whether the girl could be of any help, so he left her out of the equation, also hoping that she did not do something foolish that might put them both in jeopardy. Walter held no illusions that he was any kind of expert on criminal psychology. All he knew was that, as often as not, they might react violently in situations that had not yet become such. He rather preferred to keep any blood from being spilled—particularly if it came from him or the girl. His primary objective was to keep her safe. Everything after that was of lower priority. If the thugs got injured during any ensuing melee, well, they had started it.

Walter broke into a run, hearing loose gravel crunch beneath the soft soles of his boots. He raised his arm, sighting along its outstretched length, and released the first charge. A blue-white bolt lanced out, connecting with the weapon the one figure held. The man yowled and dropped the weapon. It landed with loud crack on the concrete and Walter silently prayed that he had judged right and it would not go off. He did not slow his approach, though, feeling relief when no abrupt explosion followed. Continuing on his own trajectory, he collided with the man, hopefully with enough force to, if not knock him down, at least thrown him off-balance enough that Walter would have a few seconds to deal with other man.

He felt a mild rush of victory as the man went down. Walter thought he heard the crack of the man’s head hitting the pavement, but he did not wait to find out. He spun over the sprawled figure of the man, quickly rolling back onto his feet. He found himself in the doorway, behind the man who held the girl. It was not quite where he had expected to land, but it would definitely work.

The man still had his back to Walter. He struggled to turn around while still keeping one arm tight around the girl’s throat. She began to struggle now, which did not improve matters for her assailant. Walter did not give him time to gather his bearing, driving a kick behind the figure’s knee. The man collapsed, pulling the girl down with him. She landed on top, though, and kicked and clawed her way free. His hand reached into his jacket.

“Don’t.” Walter snarled a warning through clenched teeth.

The attacker met his eyes and then decided to ignore Walter’s advice. Walter did not hesitate. He grabbed his assailant’s arm and, before the man could try to pull free, released another blast of current. The man’s body bucked, but Walter held onto his arm, making certain that he had achieved the desired effect. After a moment, he released his hold and the man’s body fell limp to the sidewalk, small spasms still moving through some of his muscles.

The girl was backed into the corner by the door, staring wide-eyed at her now-senseless attacker. Her eyes moved toward Walter and then narrowed in confused recollection.

“You . . . ?”

Walter smiled, rising to his feet. He dusted off his pants and gave her a small, somewhat theatrical bow. From behind him sounded the scuffling noises of the first man trying to rise. Fury flashed onto the young woman’s face and she lunged forward with a sharp kick across the side of the man’s head. His head snapped back, he seemed to hang motionless for a moment, and then sagged back to the ground.

The girl glared defiantly at her now-unconscious assailant (at least Walter hoped that he was only unconscious—she had kicked him pretty hard) and then at the second man. Her eyes then turned back to Walter. Her anger dissolved and she broke into laughter. There was a sharp, hysterical edge to it that alarmed Walter. This time, though, he did hesitate, uncertain of what to do next. He stood there, feeling awkward and powerless.

Her laughter soon transformed itself into heaving sobs. She sank down to her knees, her back scraping against the masonry around the doorway, and her arms clutched tightly around her stomach. Walter could only stare. Even under conditions where he knew a girl well, he was often at a loss on how to handle situations like this. His breakup with Abigail had been driven more by her anger than tears, and that he had been able to deal with. This, though, was completely of out his realm of experience.

You’d better get a grip, he warned himself. You’re not going to be much of a hero if you can’t comfort them as well. He gave a mental sigh and decided to trust his instincts. His reasoning mind was coming up empty.

He reached out a tentative hand to her, not entirely sure what he was going to do with it. She stared at it wordlessly for a long moment and then took it, allowing Walter to pull her to her feet. The motion felt strangely effortless to Walter, but he had no time to consider it further before he found her clinging to him tightly, crying into his shoulder. Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close against him. Her breath was warm against his neck and she smelled faintly of pleasant spices.

Walter, he chided himself. No.

He held her like that for a long time until she seemed to regain her composure. She pulled away from him, although not too quickly, and wiped at her eyes. Walter wished he had a handkerchief to offer her and made a mental note to start carrying one. She patted under her nose with the back of her forefinger, sniffed, and then looked down, hunting for something. Her eyes found it and Walter turned his head to look. It was her purse, still untouched, laying upright on the ground.

Swallowing with surprising nervousness, Walter bent and picked it up, presenting it to her with both hands like a regal offering. She accepted it with a weak smile. Opening it, she dug inside it for a moment before pulling out a package of tissues.

Walter waited in self-conscious silence while she wiped her eyes and then, with surprising daintiness, blew and wiped her nose. She then tucked the soiled tissues into a pouch on the outside of her bag. Walter felt a bit like a heel for not taking them from her, but what was he supposed to do with them?

They stood there in timid silence for several moments. Their eyes occasionally met, but neither of them seemed willing to make the next move. Finally, Walter decided that, as the man and hero in this situation, he should speak up.

“I’ll, um, walk you to your car.” He said, trying not to roll his eyes at the awkward tone.

She gave him a quick, grateful smile. “Thank you.”

Walter wondered if he should offer her his arm. The matter was decided for him when she touched it lightly, apparently wanting the contact for emotional support, but made no additional effort to indicate that she wanted more than that from him at that moment.

They began moving down the street, leaving the two assailants behind them, forgotten.