Too Little, Too Late?

Farrell neither saw nor heard the lanky young man creep up behind him. He wasn’t even aware of the youth’s presence until Dwight cracked him in the head with a sturdy length of branch. The blow was significant enough to brain Farrell and render him unconscious.

“Oh man, Dwight you have no idea how glad I am to see you right now,” Daryl said holding the bars and lowering his head, relief bringing him to the verge of tears.

“I don’t know how long we’ve got,” Dwight said, rolling Farrell over onto his stomach and straddling the man’s buttocks. Pulling his tote sheet over, he opened it and removed a half roll of pale silver duct tape. Grabbing Farrell’s arm, he wound the tape around several times securing the man’s wrist. Getting up he repeated the process on the man’s ankles.

“There’s a switch or something on the roof,” Daryl said, urgency in his voice.

Dwight nodded. Using the bars he climbed onto of the containers.

Daryl could hear the footsteps across the roof. There was some banging and crashing as a minute elapsed, then nothing. “Anything?” he asked.

Dwight’s head appeared inverted from above the barred gate, “It looks like a pressure switch mechanism, but it is so stiff I can’t get it to budge. It might be a dual action type device, where I have to press it down and you need to pull the bars up at the same time, but I don’t know,” he explained.

Daryl nodded eagerly, Okay, go back and try that,” he said, getting low and grasping the bars near the bottom. They wouldn’t budge. “Are you pressing it?” he asked.

“Trying to,” Dwight replied, putting all of his weight on the button trying to get it to depress.

Daryl jerked at the bars.

Farrell groaned.

“Is it moving?” Dwight asked, pouncing on the circular switch.

“Nope,” Daryl relied, grunting and breathing heavy.

“I told,” Farrell croaked, “It won’t open.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Daryl growled, heaving at the bars.

“Whoever you are on top of the box, you got a mean swing,” Farrell said, chuckling, his head pounding, ears ringing as he tested the bonds restraining his wrists.

“When do she come?” Daryl asked.

“When she wants. She’s the one calls the shots, not me. I spring the trap, sometimes she shows up within the hour, most times it’s longer, no way to know for sure,” Farrell answered, blinking to try and get his eyes to focus.

“Try again,” Dwight said, driving his knee as hard as he could into the release button.

Daryl grabbed the bars again, but still they would not move. “Nothing,” he said, letting go and sitting on his behind.

Dwight dropped down from the top of the c-can and circled back around front.

Farrell turned his head and grinned up, “You’re just a kid,” he said chuckling. “The way you walloped me, you got to be a baseball player.”

“How do you open it?” Dwight asked, kneeling down on the side of Farrell’s head.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t know, really,” he said, exhaled breath kicking up some dust as his face was pressed into the ground.

“Be careful Dwight, he’s got some kind of a knife in his gear,” Daryl warned, pointing.

Getting up, Dwight flipped Farrell over, frisking the man and finding the crudely fashioned blade. Straddling him, he pressed the sharpened edge against the bound man’s throat, “How?”

“I don’t know how to open it. I tried with Fred, I really did. It’s impossible,” Farrell wheezed, finding it hard to breathe with the big kid sitting on his chest. “If I did know of a way, trust me kid, right now I would it tell you.”

Dwight looked at Daryl, shrugging his shoulders, pressing the blade a little more firmly into the flesh at Farrell’s neck drawing a thin line of crimson.

“Listen, I could help you, you know, maybe with two of us, we could get it to release?” he suggested.

Dwight shook his head, “The moment I cut you free, you’re either gone, or you’ll come at me,” he said.

“No, you remove the tape and I swear I will do everything in my power to help get your friend out, I swear,” Farrell said, eyes flicking down in the direction of the blade.

“Daryl?” Dwight asked, turning his head and looking down at the man under him.

“Right now, I’m willing to try anything to get this thing open,” he said, nervous chuckle in his voice.

From not too far in the distance, they could hear the rumble of footsteps, the ground vibrating ever so slightly beneath them.

“It’s her! She’s be here any second, you got to cut me loose now kid,” pleaded Farrell.

“Wait,” Daryl said, raising his hands, “wait. It’s too late. She’ll be here in moments, you need to run Dwight, you have to get out of here before she spots you,” he urged.

“What about you?” he asked.

“Go, time is up,” Daryl said.

“He’s right, it’s too late for him, but we still got a chance, cut me loose!” Farrell yelled, eyes round as he struggled against the bonds.

“Leave him, you can’t trust him. CTA, isn’t that what you said Farrell?” Daryl said, resignation in his voice. He was stuck, and he knew it.

“Kid! For fuck’s sake help me!” Farrell hollered, imploring Dwight. “Free me, and I’ll tell you where I hide my stash!”

Standing up, Dwight bent down and picked up Farrell’s roll, looping it over his shoulder before knotting his own and crossing it over his other shoulder like a brace of bandoliers.

“Good luck Dwight,” Daryl said, partial smile on his face as he nodded slowly, “look after yourself.”

Dwight turned and nodded back to Daryl, “I hope for your sake its fast,” he said, mournful expression on his youthful face.

“For fuck’s sake get me out of here Dwight!” Farrell screamed, “You can’t just leave me here like this!”

Turning away, Dwight loped out of sight, the sound of crashing feet drew near.

“Hey!” screamed Farrell, “You get back here! You hear me?”