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    C James
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Changing Lanes - 42. Passion in the Dark


Chapter 42: Passion in the Dark


 



 

 

When Eric let him into the blacked-out suite, Jansen used the keychain light to lead the way to the sofa, where he deposited his backpack on the coffee table. Eric suddenly realized that Jansen intended to spend the night. What Eric didn’t know was in what way. Eric knew what he wanted, but… ‘What if he doesn’t want to? Or what if he does, and I screw up again?’ Eric thought, paying close attention to Jansen, trying to decide what to do and what to say.

Sitting down on the sofa, Jansen waited until Eric joined him, and then shut off the key light. In the darkness, Eric could barely see Jansen’s silhouette.

Feeling a pang of guilt, Eric said, “I’m sorry I got you and Keith into this mess–”

“Stop right there,” Jansen said, reaching out and fumbling until his hand found Eric’s arm. “I don’t blame you; don’t ever think that, no matter what happens. You didn’t know the volcano was going to blow, nobody did. You had no idea about the bombs... Look, we both know there may not be much time left, so let’s not waste it on feeling bad. I want us both to feel good tonight.”

Eric’s inner sense was tingling. He knew that Jansen had told the truth regarding any blame, and he was almost sure that Jansen had sex in mind, but Eric’s anxiety over their first attempt raised doubts in his mind. Deciding to take a neutral course, Eric said softly, “Thanks… I mean that.”

Feeling Eric’s bare shoulder brush his own and linger, Jansen smiled to himself, sure that he and Eric were both thinking much the same thing. Still, Jansen took note of the slight hesitation in Eric’s voice, and thought, ‘I’ve just got to get him to relax a little.’

“Let’s drink to us,” Jansen said, opening his backpack by touch and pulling out the bottle. Twisting the bottle open, Jansen handed it to Eric. “Take a chug, we need to unwind.”

Suddenly feeling confused – drinking wasn’t what he had in mind for unwinding – Eric took the bottle and tipped it back, taking a pull at what he assumed was whiskey.

Feeling the familiar burn, Eric handed Jansen the bottle and said in a strained whisper, “Dude, that’s tequila!”

Jansen chuckled and then took a drink. Gasping from the burn, he said, “Yeah. I remembered how uninhibited it made you after the party. I also know you love it, but don’t want to break a promise. So, I figured we’d have some fun tonight, just the two of us, if you’d like to. It’s just you and me so you can be as wild and crazy as you want.”

The meaning in Jansen’s words were crystal clear to Eric. The stress, combined with the tequila’s alluring burn, made it all so very tempting. ‘What the hell. I didn’t know so it’s not like I’m breaking a promise,’ Eric thought, as the tequila’s familiar influence grew. Reaching out for the proffered bottle, Eric took another drink.

 

 

Waiting in the van, west of the tunnel, Yuri looked at the highway junction ahead. LP-1 was still packed with northbound traffic, but at least it was moving, somewhat. The problem was, it was moving northbound and Yuri needed to go south. Yuri had parked half a mile back, deterred by the sight of a La Palma police cruiser and its flashing lights, parked at the junction. The police officer was busy attempting to direct traffic, but Yuri saw no reason to risk any contact.

Yuri watched the police officer for a while, and then a slow, cold smile crept across Yuri’s face. After taking a few moments to weigh the idea, Yuri withdrew his combat knife from under the seat, telling the henchman as he did so, “Wait here.”

Tucking the sheathless knife into his belt behind his back and under his shirt, Yuri jogged forward through the darkness. As he approached the police officer from behind, Yuri yelled, “Please, you must come at once!” Turning to point at the van, Yuri said in a loud, agitated voice, “There is a woman in there, screaming for help!”

Yuri turned to run back towards the van, sparing a quick glance over his shoulder to confirm that the officer was following.

As they neared the van, Yuri stopped, gesturing excitedly into the darkness to his left, “There, he’s dragging her away…” The officer came to a halt by Yuri’s side and turned to look where Yuri was pointing. Squinting into the darkness, he saw nothing, and as he reached for his radio to report the situation, his instincts began to light off. Turning back towards Yuri, the officer dropped his hand to his sidearm.

Yuri had stepped in close while the officer was distracted, and was ready. With a smooth, practiced move, he drove the knife upwards, point-first, into the officer’s windpipe.

The police officer stumbled backwards, and Yuri shoved the knife in deeper, severing the man’s spinal column. The officer, not yet dead, fell to the ground, unable to move, with seconds of consciousness remaining. Fear and pain filled his mind as he began to black out, knowing that he would never awaken.

Yuri could feel the warm, sticky sensation of the officer’s blood spattering on his arm. Yuri had chosen the method for both silence, and to avoid being covered in blood, for he had not thought to bring a change of clothing. Moving fast, Yuri pulled the officer into the darkness, where a quick search of the officer’s pockets yielded his keys. Having got what he sought, Yuri dumped his body behind a bush a hundred feet from the road. Racing back to the van, Yuri told the henchman, “Follow me.”

Yuri ran to the police car as the van followed. Jumping in, Yuri pulled forward, leaving the flashing strobe lights on. Nosing into the right lane of the northbound highway, he kept edging forward, waiting as the cars coming north moved over to make way. After a few failed tries, Yuri found the right switch and turned on the siren.

It was slow going, but the oncoming traffic yielded to the police car, moving aside as best they could to allow the police car, with the van following close behind it, to crawl south.

 

 

Felecia stared at the road map of La Palma, and gestured to Horst, “We’ve got one hell of a problem. We’re here, near the airport, on the east coast of the island. The tunnel to the other side is inland from us. From what we can see, the tunnel itself is passable, though there’s a steady stream of eastbound traffic coming out of it, the westbound lane appears open. We could go that way, but then we hit the traffic jam heading north on LP-1, which has both lanes dedicated to northbound traffic. That road is the only one that runs from the south end of the island to the north, so I don’t see any chance of getting through that way until the evacuation traffic eases and they reopen the southbound lane to southbound traffic. That will take hours, hours we may not have.”

Horst stared at the map for a moment. He could see the problem, but not perceive any solution. “The only other route would be to take the highway south along the coast from here, and follow it around the southern tip of the island until it bends north. The resort is not far from the southern tip of the island, and in that case, we would be moving with the flow of traffic, not against it, once we reached the western coast. However, the highway to our south, due to crossing the area hardest hit by the ash, is closed, beginning just south of the airport.”

Nodding, not liking the chances but seeing no other way, Felecia said, “Closed how? We know we can drive through thick ash if we protect the engines. Look at the map; the southern part of the island is shaped like a triangle, with the tip pointing south. The tunnel and the roads to and from it form the top of the triangle. Near the southern tip, where the highway bends north again, there’s a town, Las Canarios. There isn’t much between here and there heading south: just the sea on the left and the volcano on the right, in the middle of our triangle. My guess, and it’s only a guess, is they closed the highway between here and Las Canarios because the area was covered in heavy ash and they still had the highway up the west coast open. At that time, no one would want to come here, into the ash. However… I’m betting that’s changed. Anyone left in the area of Las Canarios would have the choice of sitting in that traffic or trying the closed highway. Take two men in a car south of the airport. It’s about ten miles from here to Las Canarios that way, but they don’t need to go all the way. Go a couple of miles past the closure point, then turn around, and come back. Look for tracks in the ash, or vehicles coming from the south. What I’m looking for is any sign that the road between here and Las Canarios is passable with a truck. If it is, I’ll try it.”

Horst turned to leave, and then hesitated. “Felecia, I and some of the others should be the ones to go with the truck. It may be dangerous and there is the issue of the missing warhead yet to be resolved. Either you or I should be here, and I think it would be best if you remain here, in command. The men will be growing ever more uneasy. They respect you and to a degree fear you. Your leadership here may be required.”

Shaking her head, Felecia replied, “The people at the resort are my responsibility; they gave us all a way out of our old life and I owe them for that. General Bradson...” Felecia let her voice trail off, unwilling to openly discuss her feelings. “I cannot in good conscience ask anyone to do this for me, so I will go myself, alone. You’ll remain here and if need be one of our other pilots should be able to fly you and the men out. Our chances of surviving the takeoff would be better with General Bradson at the controls but if the volcano erupts, I’m ordering you to fly out; do not wait for me.”

Stiffening his back, standing at attention, Horst turned to look Felecia in the eye. In the careful, formal tone of a junior officer chewing out a superior, he said, “With all due respect, you are mistaken. The General has the loyalty of many of us and we are all wealthy, and in most cases thankful for it, due to the band and their manager. There is also the fact, as you say, that General Bradson is our best hope of a survivable departure. Those reasons alone would suffice, but there is more. We need you here. The runway will need to be hosed down and you may need to deal with any local authorities, should they appear. You are far better at that than I am, and the men trust your judgment more than mine. You are, in my opinion, allowing your personal feelings to color your judgment, causing you to take the risk upon yourself, lessening the chances for success. That is not what a commander does.”

Anger clouded Felecia’s face for a moment, though she replied in an even voice, “What do you propose, Horst?”

“If we find signs that the highway south is passable, allow me to take the livestock truck along that route. I will detail two of the men to lead the way in our tow truck. Its winch may prove essential, should we encounter obstructions. Brian Bradson will wish to go to his father’s aid, as I consider to be his right. I will need only one other, and I assure you there will be no shortage of volunteers. With two trucks, we stand a better chance of succeeding. Trust me to do this for you, Felecia. I will get your people out.”

Felecia was stunned into silence for a few moments. Never, not once in the years she’d known him, had Horst questioned her orders in such a way. What galled her more was the knowledge that he was right. Lowering her voice to a soft tone, she said, “Thank you, Horst. Get back from your scouting trip as soon as you can, you’ve got a rescue mission to lead.”

Snapping off a crisp salute, Horst headed for the parking lot.

Horst returned half an hour later. His face grim and covered by a dusting of ash, he said, “The devastation to the south is even worse than here and the ash is deeper, a foot or more in many places. However, we found the barricades across the highway cast aside and fresh tire tracks coming form the south. I was about to return when we spotted approaching headlights: a vehicle, a large SUV, coming form the south. I hailed them and they stopped. Their English was adequate for them to tell me they had come from Las Canarios. However, they had to unclog their filters several times, and in three locations found their way blocked by the debris of buildings that had fallen into the road, collapsed by the weight of the ash. From what they say, the route is viable but difficult. I suggest that I leave at once.”

Felecia stood up and said, in her command voice, “Go. Take fifteen armed men; you may need their muscle to clear the road. We’ve got four RPGs remaining here at the hotel, take them too; you might need them for demolitions. The livestock truck will easily carry that many men, plus the people we’re evacuating.”

Horst hesitated, and then replied, “That’s half our force. You may need them here.”

Shaking her head, Felecia replied, “You may need them more. There’s chaos and panic on the west side of the island, and you were correct; if we’re going to do this, we need to do it right.” Lowering her voice a little, Felecia said, “Godspeed, Horst.”

Horst raced for the parking lot, where the livestock truck was already running. Leaping in, he shouted to Brian and François, who had been preparing the vehicles while Horst was on the scouting mission, “Take the tow truck, I will follow.” Horst ordered thirteen men into the livestock transport and closed the door. Climbing behind the wheel, one man with an AK-47 in the passenger seat, Horst started the truck.

With the rumbling thunder of their diesel engines, the tow truck and the livestock hauler left the hotel, heading south.

Brian and François had done their best to prepare the vehicles; wadded-up bed sheets had been stuffed under the hoods around the air intakes to provide some protection for the air filters. Additional bundles of towels and bed sheets had been tossed into the livestock transport, for use when the air filters finally clogged beyond reuse, and also to allow the men to keep breathing. As they crawled south through the worsening ash, Horst had no doubt that they’d be needed.

Once she’d watched them leave, Felecia phoned General Bradson and gave him the news; the cavalry was on its way.

 

 

Jansen glanced down, watching with a mix of amusement and desire as Eric kicked their shoes and socks away. Keylight in hand, Eric shone it at Jansen’s face. Jansen didn’t even have time to flinch away as he felt Eric’s chest press forward and the fumbling rush of lips questing against his own.

Eric’s insistent tongue swept across Jansen’s lips, its message clear. Jansen parted his lips, joining fully in the kiss, inhaling softly, smelling the almond scent of Eric’s hair.

Eric launched into the kiss furiously, almost desperate in his insistent haste, his hands roaming down Jansen’s sides. Hooking the dancer’s waistband with his thumbs, Eric snatched Jansen’s shorts and boxers down, twisting awkwardly to maintain their frenzied kiss.

Surprised by Eric’s speed and pace, his own passions rising, Jansen kicked his boxers away and began to tug at Eric’s shorts.

A flurry of arms and writhing bodies, naked and aroused, the lovers stumbled in the dark, bumping into the furniture and walls as they made their way to Eric’s bedroom.

Eric broke the kiss at the edge of the bed and jumped forward, reckless in his tequila-driven abandon, his arms still wrapped around Jansen’s torso, sending them both hurling onto the bed.

Feeling Eric’s questing hand between his legs, Jansen chuckled and said, “Whoa, slow down,”

With a chuckle and a grin, Eric grabbed Jansen’s cock and began to stroke it. “I thought you wanted me uninhibited,” Eric said, the tequila burning in his veins.

Shuddering at Eric’s erotic touch, Jansen gasped, “Damn, you’re wild… and I like it.”

“Come here,” Eric said as he used his free hand to pull their bodies closer together, “You’ll like this more.”

Jansen felt Eric’s hand massaging his side, matching the rhythm of the hand on his shaft, making every nerve tingle and forcing a groan of ecstasy from Jansen’s lips.

Arching his back, Jansen traced his hands down Eric’s sides, caressing the taut muscles beneath tensing as Eric moved. Pulling Eric to him, Jansen’s lips found Eric’s.

Feeling himself nearing the edge far too soon, Jansen rolled, pulling Eric with him, pushing Eric’s hand away, their lips still locked as their tongues dueled. For each of them, the pleasure of the other’s touch dispelled the feeling of peril, and they found sweet solace in the frenzied passion that they shared.

Eric lay back, remaining still for a moment, concentrating on Jansen’s touch, his nearness, and the heat of the writhing body pressed against his own. His hunger rising, Eric inhaled sharply, feeling Jansen’s hand massaging his side as the dancer’s other hand moved between Eric’s legs, stroking him, gently but with growing urgency.

Feeling Jansen’s tongue tracing across his chest, Eric tensed, breathing hard, trembling from the sensations. Twisting, pulling, fumbling in the dark, Eric began to suck and nibble on Jansen’s neck, reveling in the salty taste of his lover’s skin.

Jansen felt Eric twist beneath him, moving sideways. With wild intent, Eric threw an arm across Jansen’s shoulder blades, chuckling with joy as he swung around to lay face down on Jansen’s back.

Jansen felt the head of Eric’s throbbing cock pressing against his cleft, demanding entry, as Eric nibbled on the back of his neck. Driven by the heat of the moment, Jansen arched his back and began to allow Eric in. Eric’s insistent push, unlubricated and not quite on target, reminded Jansen that Eric had no experience at what he was trying to do. Tensing up, envisioning the damage Eric could do, Jansen began to turn over, saying in a gentle voice, “Whoa, you don’t know how to do that yet… c’mere.” Pulling Eric to him face to face, Jansen began to grind into Eric, and laughed as he felt Eric’s fingers ticking his ribs. Giggling and writhing, Jansen gasped, “What are you doing?”

“I love feeling your muscles move,” Eric said as he lowered his head to nibble, gently at first, on Jansen’s shoulders and neck.

His head spinning, heart afire, Jansen ground his hips against Eric’s, and Eric pushed back, writhing with ever more heated urgency. As he neared the edge, Jansen felt Eric’s fingers tickling his side. Twisting, shuddering from the mix of sensations that drove him to utter ecstasy, Jansen moaned, passions burning, exploding, gasping for breath against the furious release.

Moments later, Eric joined Jansen in ecstasy’s arms.

Spent, they lay together, gasping for breath, and Eric pulled Jansen into a slow and sensuous kiss.

Coming up for air, Jansen whispered, “Wow, that was intense.”

“Got any more doubts now?” Eric said with a giggle as he playfully ground his hips into Jansen’s.

“Not a one… I’m just hoping the water’s still on, because otherwise we’ll be a sticky mess for awhile.”

“I like being in a mess with you,” Eric said, his lips seeking out Jansen’s in the dark.

When the kiss ended, Jansen pulled Eric to his feet. “I’ve never showered in the dark before. This could be fun.”

Stumbling into the bathroom, leaving the door open so the distant glimmer of moonlight provided a faint trace of illumination, they stepped into the shower together.

Eric’s quick turn of the handle proved that the water was still on, and a sudden cry of protest from Jansen attested to its cool temperature.

Laughing, getting used to the cool water, the two lovers began to wash each other off, fumbling in the dark. Playful touches became more, and Eric reached for Jansen, whispering, “Let me warm you up.”

For the second time that night, the two became one.

 

 

Entering the darkened restaurant at the head of his men, The Scar found a candle on a table, and lit it. Holding it high, he walked through the swinging metal door into the kitchen.

As his men entered, The Scar turned to face them and said, “Do any of you know how to cook?”

A trio of shaking heads and cowed looks told The Scar that they did not. Sighing, he began to look around, stopping at one of the stoves. He turned on a burner, and seeing it flare to life, said, “The gas still works. Let us see what we can find.”

The refrigerators, though without power, were still cool inside. Opening one, The Scar found cartons of liquid eggs and several blocks of cheese. Moving to the next unit, he found butter, along with trays of croissants. “Either the staff took much of the food with them, or others were here before us. No matter. I have not cooked in years, but I think I recall how to make cheese omelets.” The Scar set one of his men to work thinly slicing a block of cheese.

 

 

 

Clean, spent, and relaxed, Eric and Jansen stumbled out of the shower. Fumbling for towels, they began to dry each other off. “Maybe we should try to get some sleep,” Jansen said as he toweled Eric’s hair.

Eric, with his rush of passion now quenched, was feeling the tequila’s siren song of mischief. Clumsily due to the darkness, Eric wound up a towel. The trace of light was enough for him to see Jansen’s silhouette, and Eric snapped the towel at his boyfriend’s butt.

“Ow!” Jansen cried, with surprise and then a laugh. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“Having fun,” Eric laughed, trying for another snap and missing. As Jansen jumped out of the way, Eric stumbled out of the bathroom, still naked, and kept going until he reached the coffee table, next to the sofa. There, he found what he was after.

Jansen came out of the bathroom and heard the sound of Eric taking a chug of tequila. Chucking, he said, “So you still wanna play, huh?”

“Oh, yeah,” Eric said, gasping from the burn and handing Jansen the bottle.

While Jansen took a swig, Eric reached down, fumbling on the floor, until his hand came to a pair of shorts. Snatching them up, he said, “Let’s go for a swim.”

There was something in the sound of Eric’s voice that didn’t seem right to Jansen. He set the bottle on the table and felt for his keychain light. Finding it, he turned it on, aiming it at the table. It gave off enough light to let Jansen look into Eric’s face, where he saw a wicked grin, and eyes flashing mischief and mayhem. “Uh, maybe we better stay here,” Jansen said, as Helen’s dire warning came swiftly to mind.

Intent on having a water fight, Eric snatched up the tequila. Shorts in hand, he bolted for the door, calling out gleefully, “You gotta catch me first!”

Jansen raced for the door, calling out, “Dude, you’re naked–” Realizing that so was he, Jansen used the keylight to find the other pair of shorts. Tugging them on, he raced out the door in pursuit of Eric.

Eric ran through the dark pathways, enjoying the cool night air on his naked body. Darting around a corner, he stopped and listened. He watched as Jansen raced by, and then pulled on the shorts and took a drink of tequila. Whooping like a maniac, bottle in hand, Eric raced down the moonlit path the direction he mistakenly thought he’d seen Jansen go.

Jansen heard Eric’s whoop and doubled back, growing more worried by the second and beginning to suspect that if Helen had exaggerated about Eric and tequila, it wasn’t by much.

 

 

Jansen ran down the pathways but found no sign of Eric. Stopping, correctly suspecting that Eric was hiding, Jansen yelled, “Come on out, please.”

The chirping of the tree frogs in the night air was the only reply he received. Resuming the search, Jansen took off at a jog, growing even more worried.

Eric, racing the other way, mindless of Jansen’s call, bounded into the moonlit deck of the pool area and began to run along the edge of the pool. His head spinning from the tequila, he stumbled on the pool lip, slipped, and went careening headlong into the water, tequila bottle in hand.

Sputtering as he came up for air, Eric realized that he’d lost his prize and dove frantically, feeling around on the floor of the darkened pool for the bottle, not realizing that, half empty, is was floating in its side, six feet above.

Fixated on the quest for the missing bottle, Eric kept searching. The tequila bottle, slowly filling with water, drifted away, finally sinking in the deep end and settling to the bottom in an upright position. The tequila, due to its high alcohol content, was slightly lighter than the surrounding water, causing the liquor to slowly exit the bottle. When Eric finally found it, all that remained was pool water.

 

 

Growing more worried by the minute, Jansen kept searching, checking several of the resort’s pools in the process, but the darkness prevented him from seeing Eric. After a while, he knew he needed help and ran to his suite. Finding his pockets empty, he pounded on the door.

Keith, flashlight in hand, opened the door. “Hey, there you are. I just got back and I was wondering where you­–”

Blinking against the flashlight’s glare, Jansen blurted, “We gotta find Eric. Help me look for him.”

Stepping out into the night air, Keith said, “What’s going on?”

“I can’t find Eric,” Jansen said, picking a direction at random and starting to jog.

“I kinda figured that part out by now,” Keith said as he jogged at his brother’s side. “Why are you looking for Eric, and why isn’t he with you?” Keith played his flashlight over Jansen for a moment and blinked in surprise.

Jansen was silent for a few moments and then replied with a sigh, “He took off running, saying I had to catch him. I heard him whoop a couple of times but I kept loosing him in the dark, and now I can’t find him at all.”

“With the freaking volcano about to blow, you guys decided to play hide-and-seek,” Keith asked incredulously, and then after a few moments’ pause he remembered what Eric was like after the party. “Uh, by any chance, have you two been drinking tequila?”

Jansen sighed again. “Yeah. My idea. Not a good one, I guess. I gave Eric some.”

Rolling his eyes and laughing, Keith replied, “Was this before, or after, you had wild sex?”

Jansen stopped in his tacks. “How’d you know?”

Keith grinned and flicked the flashlight beam back at Jansen. “Subtle clues, like all those hickeys on your chest, neck, and shoulders, and the fact you’re wearing the shorts Eric had on earlier. So, how was it?”

Jansen grinned and resumed the jog. “Hot and wild… just kinda fast, the first time tonight anyway. And yeah, I gave him the tequila before. I wanted to get him to unwind and just have fun. It sure worked that way, but I guess Helen wasn’t exaggerating much about him and tequila. He snapped me on the ass with a towel and ran out with the bottle. I guess I oughta mention; he was naked, but he did have some shorts in his hand, I think. I hope he put ‘em on.”

“You do realize that if Helen finds out, she’ll kill us both,” Keith said, wondering if that was any exaggeration.

Jansen sighed. “I know… but, with the volcano, the bombs, and everything else, I thought this might be our last night.”

Keith nodded, becoming somber for a moment. “Yeah, I see your point. Okay, how about this; I’ll swing by the pavilion and see if anyone mentions Eric. They’re sure to say something, especially if he’s still naked. If there’s no word there, I’ll keep searching. You keep looking, and we’ll meet up back at our room in half an hour. If we find Eric, we take him back there and wait.”

“Sounds like a plan. Thanks, Keither,” Jansen said, taking off at a run.

Keith made a beeline for the pavilion, and found a few people still there with Helen, playing cards. He just nodded in greeting, watching for a while, hoping that Eric would show up. After a while, with no sign of Eric, he left.

Trotting through the resort grounds, he called out Eric’s name a few times, and used his flashlight to check any likely looking hiding places. As he neared the central complex, an alluring scent caught his attention. Stomach growling, Keith followed his nose towards the restaurant. In part, he suspected that if food was involved, Eric might be too. Keith’s second reason was more basic: he was hungry, and the savory scent of cheese and eggs was irresistible.





 

© 2009 C James

Please let me know what you think; good, bad, or indifferent.

Please give me feedback, and please don’t be shy if you want to criticize! The feedback thread for this story is in my Forum. Please stop by and say "Hi!"

 



 



Many thanks to my editor EMoe for editing and for his support, encouragement, beta reading, and suggestions.

Special thanks to Graeme, for beta-reading and advice.

A big "thank you" to to Bondwriter for final Zeta-reading and advice , and to Captain Rick and Talonrider for Beta reading and advice .
Any remaining errors are mine alone.


Copyright © 2009 C James; All Rights Reserved.
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Shit, shit, shit, Keither is going to walk right into the kitchen and he's going to lead The Scar right to his party.

 

This is not looking good. I think the only thing the boys and co. have going for them is the fact that the power's out and The Scar and his henchmen won't be able to see that well.

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