Extracted

  ***

  While I wait for him to come back, I start to think about Stein again. How could I just let her go like that? Why couldn’t I have been stronger? Why did they send us back there, knowing the risks? My heart is racing, and I almost start to tear up.

  “Here, this should help,” Nobel says, carrying a cane. “I was hoping you wouldn’t need it, but I wanted to be sure I didn’t set you up for failure.”

  “I was hoping I wouldn’t need this.” I point to the booby trap on my leg.

  Nobel looks away sadly.

  Guilt bites into me. “Dude, I’m sorry. It isn’t your fault. You saved my life. It’s just…” I point at the leg, and Nobel nods.

  “It was the best I could do. I’m working on some other ideas, but for now, you’re just going to have to suck it up, Lex,” He holds the cane out to me. “Now, let’s try this again.”

  The cane is actually kind of cool. A set of gears underlines the handle, and Nobel has carved some ornate engravings along the shaft.

  “I could use this as a weapon,” I say, turning it over and over in my hand like a baton.

  “You can,” he agrees. “It’s temporary, but I made some useful modifications. Here.” He points to the various gears on the handle. “The oil slick is triggered by the rusty gear. When the shiny gear is spun, it emits a noxious gas.”

  Suddenly, I love this cane. Then Nobel turns the handle to show me the small gear with one .45 caliber bullet loaded.

  “I’m pretty sure I’m going to marry this thing,” I say without thinking. Suddenly, the memory of Stein is there again, threatening to crush me. I breathe deeply, trying to focus on the plan. The chugging of Gloves’ train chair pulls me from my thoughts.

  “What do you want, Gloves?” I ask as he glares, obviously annoyed with me.

  He gives me a stern frown. No sympathy from him, I suppose. “Claymore would like you to grace him with your presence.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll be right there.”

  Gloves turns his train chair around and chugs off. I try to stand up again. Luckily, Nobel is there to lend me a hand. Once I get to my feet, I keep the cane on my right side. Nobel tells me to swing the cane parallel to each step with my right leg. I take an experimental step with my left leg first, as lifting and stepping requires full concentration. With a hiss, and metal grinding against metal, I take another step. It sounds like a new teenage driver learning how to drive a stick shift. “The grinding sound will go away as you learn to use it,” Nobel assures me.

  I shrug. The sound doesn’t bother me so much. “Well, wish me luck.”

  Oddly enough, there isn’t much pain now that I’m upright. Hiss, grind, pop. Hiss, grind, pop. I stop at the threshold and turn around.

  “Thanks for the cane,” I offer. “I hope I won’t have to use it on Claymore.” I smile, turn, and hobble down the hallway toward Claymore’s office.