"Busy little road today. But that's fine. Without incompetent management running the show, we should be able to take care of them without much effort. Medusa, Witch, I want our three test subjects propped up against the truck," Mr. Burke said. "Based on what they've seen so far, they probably think we're all bumbling idiots, a joke. I want them to see very clearly that we are no joke."

Medusa and Witch dragged me to the truck. I was unable to feel a thing as I slid over the dirt.

Within a couple of minutes, Roger and Samantha were sitting next to me.

I had to do something to save the people who were coming, but what? I couldn't even wiggle a toe.

It seemed like hours before the car, a small white sedan, arrived. It stopped behind the limousine.

Mr. Burke walked over to them. "Hi there," he said, as the driver rolled down his window. "We've had a bit of bad luck and I was wondering if we could get your assistance."

"Of course," said the driver, a cheerful-looking blonde guy in his late thirties. He was badly sunburnt and wearing sunglasses. "What's the problem?"

"Car trouble."

"Oh, man, that's always miserable. This is, like, our first vacation without a flat tire or running out of gas or something like that." The driver grinned. "We probably cursed you. Sweet limo you've got there, though."

Don't get out of your car don't get out of your car please don't get out of your car.

The blonde guy opened his car door and got out.

"Right over here," said Mr. Burke, leading him past the limousine. Two more doors opened on the sedan, and a beautiful woman, probably the guy's wife, got out, along with their son, who looked eleven or twelve.

Please no…

The blonde guy frowned and removed his sunglasses as he saw Roger, Samantha and I propped up against the truck. We had to look like zombies, or at least stoned out of our minds.

"What happened to them?" he asked.

"Shock," said Mr. Burke. "As you can see, there was a terrible accident. We tried to call the police, but we seem to be having trouble with our cell phone."

The blonde guy was joined by his wife and son. "We've got one in the car. Alex, why don't you go grab it?"

"No, that won't be necessary," Mr. Burke said. "I'd just like to give you a brief preamble, if I may. What you're going to see in a moment will frighten you very badly, and if you scream, you will die. So don't scream."

Medusa casually pointed Goblin's gun at the family. The mother gasped but didn't scream.

"Excellent. You're off to a good start. Two of my associates will see that the noise and struggling are kept to a minimum, so please cooperate."

Witch and Troll quickly bound each of the family members' hands with duct tape. They also covered the woman and boy's mouth. After they were done, Mr. Burke nodded his approval and walked to the family. "What's your name?" he asked the blond guy.

"Jim," he softly replied.

"Full name, please."

"Jim Kenyon."

"James, correct?"

"Yes. James Kenyon."

"And is this your wife?"

"Yes."

"Her name?"

"Heather."

"Pleased to meet you, Heather. And this must be your son. His name is Alex, right?"

"Yes," said James, his voice quivering.

"Was Alex born in wedlock?"

"Yes."

"Good. Heather, Alex, please drop to your knees."

Heather and Alex, both crying and shaking with fear, did as they were told.

I focused every possible bit of mental energy I possessed on trying to move my body. A finger. A lip. Anything.

"Heather looks like a fine woman, James," said Mr. Burke. "Is everything working out? No problems in your marriage?"

"Yes."

Mr. Burke chuckled. "I apologize. That wasn't a very well-phrased question. Are there any problems in your marriage?"

"No."

"Good, good. How about with young Alex there? Is he doing well in school?"

"Yes."

"Is he into sports? He looks like he'd be into sports."

"Yes."

"Which one?"

"Basketball."

"Really? He seems short for that. I would have thought baseball or soccer. Does he get a lot of game time or does he spend most of it on the bench?"

"He plays."

"Very impressive. You look like a nice, happy family. You're a very lucky man, James, to have such a wonderful wife and son. That does bring up the important question, though: Which of them do you like better?"

"What?"

"I'm not going to beat around the bush here, James. One of them is going to die within the next minute or so. You're going to make the choice."

Move, damn it, move!

I could beat whatever had been in the dart. Mind over matter. I'd break free of this paralyzing drug. I focused so hard it felt like my brain was going to burst inside my skull.

"Now, before you speak, I know exactly what you're going to say. You're going to ask me to kill you instead. I hate that. I'm sick of it. If you try to be a martyr, I'll kill both of them. If you don't make the choice in a timely fashion, I'll kill both of them. My hope is that you won't be the type of coward who would let both his wife and child die because he couldn't make a simple decision."

"Please don't do this," said the man in a soft, scared voice.

"It will be a bullet to the back of the head, execution-style. Painless, as far as I know, not having been through that experience myself. Which one dies, James? Heather or Alex? Make the choice."

"I can't…"

Move move move!

"Make the choice, James. Be a man."

Heather and Alex both sobbed.

"Five seconds until they both die. And you're going to be really disappointed if you think I'm bluffing."

James let out a whimper, and choked out the word: "Her."

"Her?"

James nodded, tears gushing down his face.

"Her meaning Heather? You want me to execute Heather instead of Alex?"

Heather let out a muffled wail.

James nodded.

"Say it," Mr. Burke told him.

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. Say 'I want you to kill my wife, Heather.'"

"No!"

"You were man enough to make the choice, James. Don't fuck it up because you won't speak the words."

My finger moved. I swore my finger moved.

"I… I want you to… I want you to…"

"It's not that difficult, James."

"I want you to…"

If I could move a finger, I could move my whole body. I could tackle that sadistic son of a bitch and rip his heart out of his chest.

"Say it, James, or they both die!"

"I want you to kill Heather!"

"See, that wasn't so hard, now was it?" Mr. Burke grinned and motioned to Medusa.

She shoved the barrel of her gun against the back of Alex's head, not Heather's…

I can break free of this I can break free I can I can I can!

…and pulled the trigger.

I couldn't look away. I couldn't even blink.

The twelve year-old boy pitched forward onto the dirt.

"Do you see what we did, James?" asked Mr. Burke. "We killed your son instead. Now you get to spend the rest of your life with poor Heather knowing you didn't pick her. You think there'll be problems in the marriage now, James?"

Troll laughed.

James didn't respond. His eyes looked dead.

Mr. Burke raised the walkie-talkie to his mouth and pressed the button. "Did you hear that shot?" he asked.

"Yes, it still sounds pretty far," Helen told him, "but we're moving as fast as we can."

"Very good." He lowered the walkie-talkie and stroked his goatee. "I'm not a completely inhuman gentleman, James. I know that what you must be feeling now is a million times worse than any physical agony I could inflict upon you. So, I'm going to show you some mercy. Instead of making you live with your choice, I'm going to finish both of you off in an excruciatingly painful manner. Sound good?"

"Can I do it?" asked Troll, holding up his hunting knife.