He strolls over to a tree and unzips his pants. This is my chance, I realize. I’ve got to put him out of commission so that I’ve only got Warren left to deal with. Adrenaline surges through my body. I look wildly around. There’s nothing under the stairs I can use as a weapon. No stick. No large rocks. Nothing on the ground beside me either. I start to panic, but then I think of James Bond. The fuzz in my brain clears. I realize the perfect weapon is right in front of my eyes. Without a second’s hesitation, I grab the seat of Nolan’s bike. My other hand works furiously to unscrew the saddle from the seat post. Lucky for Damian, Nolan’s got a skinny ass, so he’s got a padded seat. Still heavy, though, even with all that gel inside. I slide the seat out of the post just as Damian gives himself a shake. As he’s zipping up, I slip up behind him. My foot hits a twig and snaps it. Suddenly alert, he turns, reaching around his back for something. His gun. Soundlessly, before he can get his hand into his belt, I bring the seat down, smashing it across the side of his head.
