Lou was on his feet now, checking George. Gratefully, he was breathing, albeit shallowly and slowly. Lou lifted his head and checked his pupils as best he could. Wide but equal in size. Better than they might have been. George’s hands were pitifully swollen, and folded over like rags. Lou wondered if there was any function left in them.

“Lou!”

He was scanning the dark corners of the car for the guard’s gun, when Cap grunted a frantic warning and kicked his feet to get Lou’s attention.

The guard was on his knees, propping himself up with a hand on each side. He was a beast, Lou realized—huge hands, broad shoulders, and the neck of a linebacker. His platinum blond hair was smeared with blood, probably from a gash at the back of his head. Still, he looked far more lucid now.

Lou scanned the boxcar once more, searching for the gun or some other sort of weapon. The walls and grimy floor beneath him seemed bare.

Where in the hell was the gun?

The guard was quickly regaining his senses and had to be dealt with. If he woke up much more, it would be like being trapped inside a metal box with an angry tiger. Lou had never kicked anyone in the face, but this seemed like the time. He took two steps and swung his right leg up toward the man’s chin, as viciously as he could. The guard reacted much quicker than Lou had anticipated, batting Lou’s foot aside with the swipe of a meaty arm, and the kick barely connected enough to throw the man off balance.

Trouble.

Lou knew he had only seconds to act. Another kick was probably not the answer. His eyes were drawn to a large amount of excess chain, dangling from George and looped loosely on the floor.

The guard was wobbly, but readying himself to stand. Lou’s only hope was that the man’s concussion was still slowing him down.

Diving headfirst, Lou grabbed the chain about four feet from the end, and swung it with all his might at the guard’s face, connecting with much more force than he had with the kick. The blond reeled as Lou was wrapping the end of the chain around his own fist, creating in effect a set of brass knuckles. A right hook connected solidly enough to send the man spinning onto his face.

Lou leapt on his back and in an instant had the chain wrapped around his throat. Kicking frantically, the guard rolled over, forcing Lou onto his back. But Lou, now beneath him, was still able to keep maximum tension on the chain.

The man, on top, facing upward, was thrashing wildly, trying to break free of Lou’s hold. Lou responded by pulling even tighter on the chain.

“Stop fighting,” he said through tightly clenched teeth. “You’re only going to make it worse.”