Travis!
Ellen watched in horror as Mortimer missed stabbing him.
Then they were rolling and fighting and there was nothing she could do to help him. Rolling and grappling, the two men desperately wrestled for an upper hand as she watched.
Travis had to release the grip on his gun to control Mortimer’s knife. The man was very strong. Travis could tell he’d had some sort of training.
They sprawled on the floor, both still fighting for a grip on Mortimer’s knife, but he’d lost it in the fall.
Ellen saw Mortimer’s knife on the floor, but it was too far for her to reach or to kick. A helpless feeling fell to the pit of her stomach. She’d felt helpless before for herself, but this was worse.
Briefly she closed her eyes, but then she opened them again. She couldn’t bear to watch, and she couldn’t bear not to.
Mortimer broke the grip on Travis’s wrist and retreated until he could stand.
Travis stood.
Ellen breathed in sharp.
Thank God. He’s standing. Please let him live. Let him win. Let him live.
She repeated that prayer, sending it up, over and over.
Furious, Mortimer punched, jabbing at Travis’s face.
Travis deflected, then slipped past Mortimer’s right cross, his left fist slamming hard into Mortimer’s midsection.
Mortimer took the hit with a grunt of pain, his left punch aimed at Travis’s jaw, but the blow was soft, and Travis rolled his jaw away from it.
Travis put his shoulder into Mortimer’s midsection, driving forward as he wrapped his arms around Mortimer’s legs, so he couldn’t sprawl away from him.
Mortimer landed on his back, with Travis between his legs and he locked his ankles behind Travis’s back.
“She’s mine!” Mortimer shouted. “You can’t have her! She’s mine!”
Hearing that made Ellen angry, and she tried to stand or hop, to make the chair move as internally she shouted back,No I’m not! I’m not yours! But all the chair did was thump.
Travis ignored Mortimer as his right hand darted down to his thigh, where his gun was strapped.
Mortimer, aware of what Travis was doing, sat up, pulling Travis’s vest close, so he could get to Travis’s knife.
Travis abandoned his handgun, getting both his hands on Mortimer’s as he drew the knife. As their weight shifted, Mortimer rolled them both, sitting astride Travis’s chest, though his grip on the knife wasn’t what he wanted. Travis used that and clamped the knife down flat against his own chest, trapping both of Mortimer’s hands with his left while his right hand again tried for his holstered pistol.
Frantically, Mortimer ripped his left hand free, grabbing Travis’s right wrist as it drew the gun out of the holster. Desperate for an advantage, Mortimer let go of Travis’s knife with his right hand, but instead of trying to take it away, Mortimer found the magazine release button and racked the slide, emptying the gun of bullets.
Travis chose that moment to buck his hips, throwing Mortimer’s balance forward, and his upper body fell. Travis was now able to roll them again, but he only got as far as their sides, Mortimer fighting momentum against him.
Both weapons were lost now, somewhere on the ground around them.
Ellen wished she could get to them and do something to help.
Travis snapped his head forward, dipping his chin to clear his night vision goggles so that his helmet could crash against Mortimer’s nose.
Yes!Ellen wished she could shout it.Travis is winning!
Mortimer’s vision went hazy, and his limbs relaxed slightly, giving Travis time to scramble away.
With a shriek of anger, Mortimer flailed, then found Travis’s dropped knife. He rose, chasing Travis, swiping back and forth at his chest and throat.
