Chapter 6 - The Flames of Calumet
The rain had turned into a thick, blinding snowstorm by the time Gary’s SUV tore through the open perimeter gates of Calumet Harbor.
Warehouse 3 loomed in the distance—a massive, six-story corrugated steel building sitting directly on the edge of the dark, freezing waters of Lake Michigan.
Thick grey smoke was already billowing from the secondary ventilation louvers on the roof.
Gary slammed the SUV to a halt fifty feet from the main loading bay doors. He pulled a heavy steel pry bar from the vehicle's emergency kit, checked his flashlight, and charged straight into the side service entrance.
Inside, the warehouse was a dark, cavernous inferno of smoke and chemical fumes. Red emergency lights flashed rhythmically, accompanied by the deafening, high-pitched wail of the fire alarm system.
CRACK.
A gunshot echoed through the massive steel space, ricocheting off the iron trusses overhead.
"I know you're in here, Bennett!" a manic, high-pitched voice screamed through the smoke.
Gary ducked behind a stack of wooden pallets, holding his breath as he peeked around the edge.
Fifty yards away, near the central server vault, stood Richard Vance. He was dressed in an expensive trench coat covered in soot, holding a sleek black 9mm handgun. Beside him were two heavily tattooed men in tactical vests, holding automatic shotguns.
Tied to steel support beams near the vault were Big Mike Callahan and two young mechanics, their faces bruised and bloody, tape bound tightly around their mouths. Beneath their chairs sat two black plastic boxes with flashing red digital counters: 02:15... 02:14... 02:13...
Incendiary thermite charges.
"You ruined everything, Gary!" Richard Vance shrieked, his eyes wild and unhinged as he waved his gun through the heavy smoke. "I had a twelve-million-dollar empire! I had the O'Malleys, I had the Ironheads, I had Stanford Ross in my pocket! And you... you pathetic, bankrupt piece of trash... you ruined it all for twenty dollars!"
Gary took a deep, steadying breath, tightening his grip on the steel pry bar. He knew he couldn't fight three armed men head-on. He needed to use the environment he had spent four weeks mastering.
Gary reached down, grabbed a heavy brass shipping padlock off a nearby crate, and hurled it with all his strength toward the far corner of the warehouse.
CLANG!
The brass lock struck a metal trash bin sixty yards to the left.
"OVER THERE!" one of the tattooed gunmen yelled, swinging his shotgun toward the sound and moving away from the server vault. "HE'S BEHIND THE CONTAINER!"
"KILL HIM!" Richard Vance screamed.
As the two hired gunmen moved into the dark, smoky shadows toward the noise, Gary moved like a ghost.
He sprinted silently across the concrete floor, coming up directly behind Richard Vance.
Before Vance could react to the sound of footsteps, Gary swung the heavy steel pry bar with terrifying precision, slamming it directly into Vance's right wrist.
CRACK!
"AAAGH!" Vance shrieked as his gun flew out of his hand, skattering across the concrete and falling straight through an iron drainage grate into the freezing water below.
Vance collapsed to his knees, clutching his broken wrist, but before Gary could secure him, Vance used his good arm to pull a heavy hunting knife from his belt, slashing wild air toward Gary's throat!
Gary ducked backward, the sharp steel blade slicing clean through the shoulder fabric of his leather jacket.
Vance lunged forward with a desperate, feral scream, driving his shoulder into Gary's chest! Both men crashed onto the hard concrete floor, rolling through the pooling water and soot.
"I should have killed you two years ago!" Vance spat, pressing the blade down toward Gary's face with all the frantic strength of a dying animal. "You were always too good, Gary! Always so damn honest!"
Gary gritted his teeth, his arms shaking violently as he caught Vance's wrists inches from his throat.
"Honesty..." Gary rasped, his eyes flashing with sudden, overwhelming power, "...is why I'm still standing!"
With a surge of pure adrenaline, Gary twisted Vance's arm violently to the left, disarming the knife, and slammed his elbow straight into Vance's jaw!
Vance went instantly limp, collapsing unconscious onto the wet floor.
Gary didn't waste a single second. He scrambled over to Big Mike Callahan and the two mechanics, pulling the hunting knife from the floor and slicing through their heavy rope bindings in three swift strokes.
DIGITAL COUNTER: 00:35... 00:34...
"GET OUT! THE DOOR IS OPEN!" Gary shouted, shoving the mechanics toward the side exit.
Big Mike ripped the tape off his mouth, grabbing Gary by his shoulders. "THE THERMITE HAS A WATER-REACTION IGNITION! IF THE SPRINKLERS HIT IT, IT'LL BLOW THE WHOLE BUILDING!"
"GO, MIKE! NOW!" Gary yelled, grabbing the two flashing thermite charges by their heavy handles.
Without hesitating, Gary sprinted toward the rear cargo bay doors overlooking the dark, open expanse of Lake Michigan.
00:12... 00:11... 00:10...
He kicked the emergency bar on the rear steel door, bursting out into the freezing snowstorm on the high concrete dock ledge!
Below him, fifty feet down, the icy black waters of the lake churned violently against the iron pilings.
00:04... 00:03...
With a final, desperate roar, Gary hurled both thermite charges out into the darkness, launching them as far as his arms could throw!
A second later, the devices struck the deep water two hundred feet from the dock.
BOOM!
A blinding, underwater explosion of white-hot magnesium light erupted beneath the lake surface, sending a massive plume of steam and water fifty feet into the freezing night air!
The shockwave knocked Gary backward onto the wet dock concrete, his lungs burning, his face covered in soot, gasping for breath as the cold snow fell gently onto his face.
Sirens wailed in the distance—dozens of red and blue lights reflecting off the white snow as police cruisers and SWAT vans flooded the harbor lot.
Big Mike Callahan ran out onto the dock, dropping to his knees beside Gary, grabbing his hand and pulling him up into a massive, bear-hug embrace.
"You crazy, beautiful bastard!" Big Mike shouted, tears streaking through the soot on his face. "You came back for us!"
May you like
Gary lay back against the cold concrete, looking up at the snowy night sky, a exhausted, victorious smile breaking across his face.
"I told you, Mike..." Gary whispered, gasping for air. "...nobody steals on my watch."
