Which told him the bomb had only been strong enough to take the first floor out, and not even all of that… The bomb at his house had been stronger than this.
He coughed a bit, cleared his throat and called out, “Foxx.” His voice came out scratchy and weak, telling him he may have inhaled some smoke.
With a groan, he forced himself to stand. Stumbling forward a bit, unsteady on his feet, his head swayed. Harlow clutched at his head as the ringing worsened. His hands came away with blood.
“Great…” he grunted.
Possible concussion, he thought, before his brain finally recognized that there was sunlight coming in from where walls of the house had completely collapsed. Oh, he had been passed out for a while—definite concussion.
Where the fuck was Foxx?
“Foxx,” he called out, voice stronger this time.
Harlow eyed the room. Broken floorboards and other debris from the first floor dissected the basement, some of it on fire. The mess pretty much blocked his view of the other side of the room. To the far right there was a stairway going up. If he had to guess…it probably led outside.
Walking carefully forward, he stared at the mess. Coughing, as more smoke filled his lungs, he pushed over a large section of collapsed floor boards, revealing a small crack that he was pretty sure he could squeeze through. Hunching a bit, he grunted in irritation as he worked on shoving his body into and through the small space, grimacing as something sliced through his jacket and into his arm. But he ignored it and kept pushing. He was near the entrance of the house—well, the basement under where the entrance used to be—and the only logical thought that came to him was that the vampire must have ended up on the other side. Harlow wasn’t quite sure how he ended up by the door…
He blinked, stilling as it came to him. Foxx! Foxx had pushed him. That’s what happened. He’d been on the other side near the window…and then Foxx had pushed him.
Harlow frowned—but why had he pushed him? He began to feel a bit worried when his head hurt too much to even attempt to figure that one out.
Harlow reached another blockage. He thought it was probably part of a wall. With a grunt, he shoved it forward. It toppled over with a boom. As he stumbled forward over it, he found himself freezing in place.
“Foxx…” Harlow rasped.
A fierce wind blew through the room, sending snowflakes fluttering down. The sun was shining brightly on this side of the basement, but by some miracle, its rays stopped just an inch shy of the suspended vampire.
Harlow gulped. “Foxx,” he said, louder this time.
The vampire didn’t respond to his name, didn’t move an inch. He just hung there, head hanging back, limbs limp at his side, eyes closed and unflinching as snow began to build up on top of him. Blood dripped from Foxx’s stark white lips, even as it seeped out of him from the point where the spike pierced through his back and out his chest. The puddle at the base of the spike was growing larger by the second.
Harlow’s eyes locked on to Foxx’s blue pom-pom hat. The red on it was spreading as it sat there soaking in blood.
The ringing in his ears suddenly increased. He grabbed at his head, it felt like a nail was being hammered into his skull. Even in pain, the thoughts came rushing to the surface as he finally made sense of why Foxx had pushed him.
“Foxx!” he called out again.
As the ringing faded, his mind went blank, the pains throughout his body going oddly numb. Dropping his blood coated hands to his sides, for a second, Harlow just stood there staring. Part of him was expecting Foxx to move, to open his eyes as if this was some sick joke.
Then his body started to act weird. His heartbeat began to race, sweat formed on his brow, and even his breathing was coming out faster and faster, each puff of air creating a white cloud.
He took a step forward, reaching out, his eyes widened as he caught sight of his own blood stained hand. Shaking…it was shaking.
“What…” Harlow held both hands out in front of him before grasping at his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart through his palm. What the fuck was wrong with him?
The emptiness was shattered moments later as the thoughts rushed back.
Do something! Anything! Think, you dumbfuck psycho, think!This was not the time to do whatever the fuck this was! Foxx…was still alive. He was!
The man was a vampire, for fuck’s sake. They could survive being staked for many hours… It couldn’t have been too long.
It couldn’t have, right? He hesitated as he stepped forward, the sun taunting him as if to say it had been.
“Fuck!” Shaking his head, he swayed a bit but pushed past the dizziness. “Get your shit together!” he growled.
Moving toward Foxx, his gaze ran back and forth over him and the entire spike, quickly deciding the only thing he could do was try to pull the vampire off. The spikes luckily were only about five feet off the floor. Carefully moving to the vampire’s side, squeezing between the other spikes, he placed one hand on Foxx’s upper and lower back, and then slowly began to lift him up. Foxx…didn’t react.
Harlow felt completely numb as he lifted Foxx to the top, and quickly pulled him all the way off. That numbness continued as he clutched the vampire to his chest, doing his best to hide his exposed skin from the sun, as he made his way back to the other side of the room. There was no place to lay him down here without putting him directly into the sunlight.
