Barry sprinted to where he saw the figure. Jaxon easily caught up to the bigger man and asked which way the person went. Barry gestured down the nearest intersection. Jaxon was much faster than Barry, and he quickly outdistanced the bigger man. Doyle reached Barry just as he disappeared around the corner.

Barry was already huffing and puffing. Doyle slowed and began to ask Barry if he was okay, but Barry gestured for Doyle to keep going. Doyle stalled for a moment.

"Ge…huff…go…puff" Barry stopped his pursuit. He planted both hands on his knees and took a long, deep, breath. "don't lose…huff…them!" he barked.

Doyle ran ahead to the edge of the house on the corner. He took a look back toward Barry as he headed around the house.

"Son of a bitch!" Doyle screamed as Jaxon popped back around the house. The scream made Barry lurch back into motion, but he relaxed when he realized there was no danger.

"I almost shit myself," Doyle informed Jaxon. A look of sincere consideration formed on Jaxon's face, and he quickly placed a hand on Doyle's shoulder.

"I really didn't mean to startle you, Mr. Falcone. I just realized y'all weren't with me, and I came back."

Doyle shrugged the hand off his shoulder and took a step back.

"It's fine. No worries, man." Doyle assured. "We're all good."

Jaxon's concern shifted to relief, and he smiled at Doyle. Barry stumbled up to them, and they both turned to face him.

"Did you see 'em?" Barry quizzed Jaxon.

"Yeah, looks like an older boy. He's heading toward the gas station."

"Let's go, then…before we lose him." Barry urged.

Jaxon took the lead, and made his way back around the house. Barry saw Jaxon look around the corner and quickly pull his head back. His arm went down and he pumped his open palm at the other two men, motioning for them to stop. He rolled his back against the wall and gestured for Barry and Doyle to be quiet. Slowly, Jaxon walked toward them.

"A big rig just pulled up to the gas station," Jaxon whispered.

"A running truck? For real?"

"Yes, Barry…and two men got out," Jaxon informed them.

Doyle became excited at the hope of operating vehicles. The idea made this whole catastrophe seem less bleak. Barry also felt a little dread evaporate. Walking everywhere would keep him in constant pain. Just knowing how much walking he had in store filled him with depression and anxiety. Now a vehicle to ride in, that was a game changer for Barry.

"Probably filling up with diesel." Barry guessed.

"Maybe they got news and room for us?" Doyle chimed in.

"I don't think so, Mr. Falcone," Jaxon answered, sounding certain.

Doyle started to speak, but Barry raised his hand to prevent the other man from speaking. He looked Jaxon in the eyes for a moment. Jaxon did not pull away from Barry's glare. Barry could not read the other man.

What is wrong with you, Jaxon? There is something off. How are you so unbothered by everything?

"Why do you think that?" Barry asked Jaxon, with more than a little accusation in his tone. Jaxon didn't respond at first. It took prompting from Doyle to get the man to speak.

"Mainly because they got the boy we are chasing," Jaxon said the words with no more regard than a person talking about the weather. "Two men. One of them is carrying the boy over his shoulder. Boy wasn't fighting or anything." Jaxon finished far too calmly.

"WHAT?" Barry and Doyle exclaimed simultaneously.

Barry was pushed by Jaxon, forcing him to the side.

"What the hell, man?" Doyle snapped at Jaxon as he hurried to catch Barry.

Barry rounded the corner and spotted a man cranking a hand pump. There was no sign of the other guy or the person he carried. He walked faster, and Doyle followed. As they reached the end of the block, the front of the semi became visible. Barry motioned for Doyle to halt, and he peeked around the corner. He didn't see anybody and pulled back around the corner.

"I don't see the second guy or the person we saw," Barry informed Doyle. Jaxon arrived as he finished speaking.

"What's the plan, then, guys?" Jaxon asked.

"No idea. We don't know where the other…"

Barry was abruptly interrupted by cries for help. Numerous voices pierced the silence with their wretched screams of anguish. Barry didn't finish his words. He rolled around the corner and sprinted toward the pleading voices. He yelled for Doyle to take care of the man at the pump.

Doyle, being prone to inaction, did not move. He looked at Jaxon, but the man was leaning against the brick wall and appeared to be inspecting the laces of his shoes. Jaxon realized he was being watched and returned Doyle's gaze.

"What? He was talking to you." Jaxon explained with a calmness that didn't fit the situation.

"What the hell, man," Doyle yelled at Jaxon for the second time.

Urgency forced Doyle into action. He ran toward Pump Guy. Adrenaline fueled him onward, but his cowardice was still present.

What the hell am I doing. I drive cars. I don't STOP people. Shit… he's turning toward me. What am I supposed to do? Am I going to have to punch somebody? What if he has a gun?

Pump Guy didn't hear the approaching footsteps until Doyle was a dozen strides away. By the time his mind registered the sound, he didn't have much time to react other than to turn and face the noise.

Shit, shit, shit… he's looking at me. What do I do?

Stolen story; please report.

Doyle closed the distance to less than two paces.

Awwwww Fuuu…

"FUUUUUCK!" Doyle roared as he flung himself headlong into the unprepared man. Doyle was athletic, but he had never been in a fight in his life. His tackle was all wrong. He drove his head into Pump Guy's sternum. This forced his head down against his own chest. His teeth bit into and then through the tip of his tongue. His teeth clinked together, and the nerves within them screamed. A moment later, he felt Pump Guy's abrupt halt and the air blasting from his lungs. Doyle grunted as he landed on the other man. Disoriented, Doyle managed to get up. The cool air stung the newly exposed nerve of his chipped tooth.

I chipped a tooth. Son of a gun…really?

Doyle put his thumb to his teeth. Instant regret followed the surge of pain. Doyle looked down at Pump Guy, and uncharacteristic rage erupted. He did not plan to kick the man, but that's what he did. One kick, then another. There was a third. Doyle began kicking, and he kept kicking. When the man covered his head, Doyle started stomping instead.

Jaxon was not a follower. He always did what he wanted and never felt social pressure. Why did Doyle's reaction bother him? Twice, now, Doyle used that look and those words. Both times, it made Jaxon feel…bad. It was a foreign feeling for him. He had not experienced it in years – not since his adoptive mother.

Jaxon decided that if Doyle thought something needed to be done, then he would help him. He ran after Doyle, but he caught sight of Barry running toward a man at the end of the trailer. At first, Jaxon didn't think much of it. He knew how formidable the stout man was and assumed he could handle the smaller man. That belief quickly faded, however, as he saw Barry swinging his large fist at the stranger, only to have the other man casually catch the punch in his palm. Barry's momentum stopped so abruptly that his elbow buckled, and he fell toward the man. The stranger shot his flat palm into Barry's chest and sent the enormous man stumbling back. Barry's confusion was apparent as he backed away slowly from the other man.

Jaxon was rarely surprised, but the sight of such a large man being overpowered made him stop in his tracks and gawk. Pump Guy's pathetic cries for "Dillon" snapped him into action. He quickly checked on Doyle and saw him stomping on Pump Guy's ribs. Jaxon had no love for Barry, but Doyle appeared to be friends with Barry, and he would probably be upset if anything happened to him. So, Jaxon decided it was in his best interest to help Barry.

Fighting was something Jaxon was good at. He never took people's shit, and that led to many physical encounters. People always underestimated him, even though he was an above-average-sized man. Most people misconstrued his social detachment as dimwittedness. Most people were wrong. Jaxon was calculating. He was strong. He was fast. He had no reservations about clawing eyes and biting flesh.

As he sprinted, Jaxon pulled a set of brass knuckles from his pocket. They weren't actual brass. Instead, they were forged by Jaxon himself, using scavenged railroad spikes. They were harder and more rough than cast brass knuckles.

He grew excited as the iron knuckles slid over his fingers. He hadn't used them before, and he couldn't wait to see what they could do to this fucker's head.

The kidnapper lurched forward. Faster than Barry would have expected, he found the man's hands clamped around his throat. He clutched at the kidnapper's wrist but suddenly found himself being lifted into the air.

Barry couldn't breathe. Panic took hold of his thoughts. He felt the pressure building behind his eyes. He kicked outward and struck the kidnapper square in the testicles. The kidnapper's legs went a little limp, and Barry felt his toes touching the ground. The grip on his neck loosened slightly, and Barry started to pull at the wrists again. Too quickly, the kidnapper's grin returned to his face, and his vice-like grip returned. He leaned back and straightened his arms. He hefted Barry fully into the air before he stepped back with one leg. He twisted away from this planted foot and jerked Barry back the other way. Barry's stomach lurched as he flew away from the kidnapper. After a few feet, Barry slammed into the ground and began a disorienting set of flips and tumbles. Barry's eyes couldn't keep up with the spinning and bouncing, but he did register Jaxon's shocked face…just before the two of them collided.

Jaxon gagged once as a hand slammed around his neck. He was pulled from the ground and lifted into the air. He couldn't breathe. The pressure from the squeezing hands made his head throb. He clamped his eyelids shut tightly against the throbbing inside. The sensation of movement made him open his eyes. The kidnapper walked him toward the front of the semi. Jaxon's vision began to go fuzzy, and his head started to swim. Rapid kicks bounced off his attacker. He tore at the impossibly strong hands around his neck. Nails ripped skin. The grip did not loosen.

Unconsciousness started pulling on the edges of his mind. As his vision filled with flurries of flickering dots, Jaxon curled his legs up and kicked out. He drove his feet into the kidnapper's chest. Every muscle fiber strained to straighten his legs. He managed to force the other man's arms straight, but all progress stopped there. Their bodies were close together, and Jaxon could not get his legs straight enough to engage the strongest muscles in his legs.

They cleared the truck, and Jaxon saw Doyle kicking Pump Guy. He tried to scream for help, but that required a path for air to escape his lungs. He began to wave his arms around - he needed to get Doyle's attention.

Look at me, dammit! Turn around…air. Help!

Jaxon's vision began to darken. His eyelids lowered over the image of the kidnapper looking up at him. Jaxon was unaware that he had been hurled through the air. He did not notice the two men he was careening toward. There was no worry about the kidnapper or the Pump Guy. Jaxon did not know of pain or fear. He had no rational thoughts. What he did have was air. Both lungs were full of sweet, fresh air. He didn't know how, and he didn't care.

AIR!

Jaxon got one full breath before slamming head-first into Doyle.

The kidnapper stalked back around the truck.

Barry was hurting, but adrenaline and the dire situation drove him to his feet. He hurried as best he could along the side of the truck. As he rounded the front of the cab, he collided with the kidnapper. Barry skipped off of the other man. He stumbled briefly but managed to turn to face the kidnapper.

The kidnapper spun on Barry. He was still smiling as he stalked toward Barry. Barry peddled backward, afraid to take his eyes off of his pursuer.

As the man stalked closer, Barry felt real terror for the first time in his life. He was always on the winning side of fights. Barry never shied away from pain. After countless fights, the big man was confident in his fighting prowess. This was different. He continued to back away from the other man. This guy was dangerous. In a few seconds, the kidnapper had completely crushed Barry's confidence. The stranger was faster than anybody Barry had ever fought or seen fight. That speed was disheartening, but his inhuman strength filled Barry with immense dread.

Barry's foot slid on some loose gravel, and he looked down for just a moment. At that moment, the kidnapper took four strides and wrapped both hands around Barry's neck.

Before he could register the movement, Barry was dangling off the ground.

Panic came instantly as the hands clamped off the blood flow to Barry's head. His hands tugged at the kidnapper's hands, but his grip was unrelenting. Next, he tried clawing at the man's wrists, but Barry was a chronic nail-biter. The attempt did no damage, and if it caused pain, the kidnapper showed no signs.

The harder Barry struggled, the wider the kidnapper's grin grew. Barry's panic intensified as he realized how much the other man was enjoying this. Each breathless moment was an eternity. He violently punched at the grinning face. Even with just his upper body powering the blows, Barry could break a man's jaw, but this guy just absorbed the heavy blows. With the punches not working, Barry started kicking at the man. The kicks were powerful but wild. Just like the punches, Barry's kicks just bounced off of the man's thighs and legs.

A moment of control settled into Barry as his vision began to blur and narrow. He grabbed the man's wrists and tightened his core. As much as he could manage without his feet touching the ground, Barry cocked his right leg back. He drove his size fourteen shoe into the man's balls again. This time, Barry knew the other man felt the kick. The man grunted, and his knees bent enough for Barry's feet to sag back to the ground.

At that moment, Barry was flooded with hope. He thought that maybe this man wasn't so tough after all. Then the kidnapper straightened his legs and lifted Barry high before sending him flying…for a second time.

Barry's gut dropped from the sudden change in velocity. He had no time to brace for impact before he started tumbling across the parking lot. Realizing he was no longer in motion, Barry ignored the full body pains he felt and lifted his head. He was barely conscious, but he knew he had to keep his eyes on the kidnapper. Barry found the man was already walking toward him. His heart sank. He knew this man would not stop until they were dead.

The kidnapper's murderous glare flickered to the side, and Barry followed it. A woman was soaring toward the kidnapper. Barry's brain was quickly sinking into darkness. His thoughts were fragmented and jumbled. There was something strange about seeing the woman gliding toward his attacker, but Barry couldn't figure out what. He felt the need to warn this lady. She needed to run! Barry wanted to warn her, but the words would not come. Moments from unconsciousness, his mind was having difficulty stringing cohesive thoughts together. Then, he could no longer keep his head raised.

Barry's final thought was whether or not the still, slightly yellow air tasted like lemons.