 Cleveland, Ohio—Present Day Wyatt watched as Val crawled on hands and knees away from the storage unit and to the middle of the road. He could see Val’s entire torso move up and down and knew his coughing wasn’t an exaggeration. A minute later Val collapsed onto the ground and rolled to his back, arms flopping at his sides. Kevin did exactly as Wyatt had hoped. He appeared from a vehicle parked alongside the far row of storage units and crept toward Val. A nudge against Val’s arm with one foot got no response, and Wyatt said a silent prayer that Val was faking. Smoke billowed around him, and when Kevin neared the door, Wyatt had to hold his breath and bite his lip to keep quiet. Kevin inched close enough to the unbalanced door to hear Wyatt if he coughed, but not close enough to look through the space created. Kevin reached inside his jacket, turned, and stepped toward Val again. “Shit,” Wyatt hissed. He waited for Kevin to take a few more steps before shimmying through the door. Rolling to his feet, he yanked his jacket off as he ran. Kevin’s handgun was trained on Val’s forehead. He turned around when Wyatt’s shoes crunched over the gravel drive. Wyatt swung his jacket and flung it at Kevin, hitting him across the face. Wyatt launched himself at Kevin, tackling him to the ground. The gun discharged as Val rolled away with a yelp. As he and Kevin struggled, Wyatt saw Val grab his jacket and retrieve the phone pieces with shaking hands. Grabbing Kevin’s wrist, Wyatt slammed it against the ground until he let go of the gun. Through the ringing in Wyatt’s ears, he heard Val shouting into the phone, “I don’t know the address! How many damned storage places are there on this road?” Kevin tossed Wyatt with a heave of his body, leapt to his feet, and immediately charged Wyatt, who was still on his knees. The punch Kevin threw knocked Wyatt backward, stunning him. Kevin dropped on top of Wyatt, hands reaching for Wyatt’s throat. He managed to block Kevin’s grab and retaliated with his own punch to Kevin’s jaw. Using that momentum to flip them, he proceeded to pummel Kevin’s face. Val was yelling, “You’re killing him!” Wyatt couldn’t help thinking, good! Kevin’s legs locked around Wyatt’s waist, and he twisted. Wyatt slammed into the ground on his back so hard all the air left his lungs in a loud whoosh. Kevin’s hands targeted Wyatt’s neck, his fingers closing around his throat, squeezing. Within seconds, Wyatt’s lungs were screaming for air and his ears were ringing. His hands scrabbled uselessly at Kevin’s fingers. Through darkening vision, Wyatt saw Val loom behind Kevin. There was a dull thunk, and Kevin pitched sideways, falling into a heap. “What the hell did you do?” Wyatt wheezed. “And thanks for doing it.” Clutching his throat, coughing, Wyatt let Val help him sit up. Val shrugged and held the gun up. “Looks like I can kick ass after all. I just needed proper motivation.” Sirens were wailing around them, and flames were pouring out of the storage unit. The place went from mostly deserted to surrounded by uniformed men and women, barking orders and pointing guns at Val.     
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