"Right shoulder's out of socket," I groaned as I rolled out of my chair. "Think we can pop it back in?"
"Let's get out of here first, the cops won't be far behind. This isn't Filmore Heights where they wait until they have three cars before doing anything," he said, helping me to my feet. "Besides, Sophie ’s probably better at doing it than I am."
Getting up to my feet, I got my first look around the room. Broken equipment and bullet casings littered the ground, along with the bodies. "Jesus. How many did you take out?"
"Five, three in here and one outside. The scrape come from diving after getting the outside guys," Mark replied. "Let's get out of here. Can you jog?"
"Motivate me enough, and I'll outrun you," I said through gritted teeth. "But I have no fucking clue how I'm going to hang on to you on the bike."
"You won't have to," Mark said as we exited the ruined store. We turned left and jogged off, disappearing into the night. We were a block away when we first heard the wail of police sirens approaching. "Come on, I brought one of my other vehicles."
"You must have been planning on dragging me out of there."
"There was a chance, and I had to plan for it. Tabby...." Mark suddenly blinked like he'd forgotten something. He touched his ear, triggering the ear bud and microphone I hadn't noticed earlier. It made sense, Mark was the sort of guy who tried to use his tactical tools as much as he could. "Tabby?"
Just hearing that word from a friendly mouth made some of the pain disappear, as Mark and I jogged off again. While we moved, he spoke again. "I've got him. Dislocated shoulder, but other than that okay. Tabby? Wha... what?!?!?"
Mark took off running, and despite my earlier boast I struggled to keep up, each step jarring my right shoulder and causing me to gasp. Thankfully, Mark's SUV was close by, only about a hundred meters ahead, because it felt like nearly a mile with the pain magnifying every step. Still, I didn't even have time to close my door and fasten my seatbelt before he had the engine going and was driving down the street. Mark, who'd been listening to his earpiece the entire time, nodded and spoke again. "Gotcha. We'll meet you there. Give us time to change."
"Mark, what's wrong?" I asked, concerned. His expression was confusing me at first. It wasn't quite worry, and it wasn't fear, but it was so intense that it burned on his face like a flare. It took me a minute to realize that we weren’t headed towards Mount Zion, but towards one of his strike bases that he'd pointed out to me on a map but hadn't taken me to yet. His face was a mix of simultaneous joy and worry. "Mark, come on man, what's wrong? Is it Tabby? Sophie?"
He glanced over at me and grinned. "Sophie's having the baby. Tabby said she's going to shut down the computer stuff and lock up the bell tower, and call for the doctor. So change of plans."
"How so?"
"We're going to one of the bases nearby, where we can change clothes and stash this stuff. I have a car there that I can drive, it has a clean license plate as well. Then we drive to the clinic. Sophie's still a few weeks early, so Tabby wants to be cautious and have her admitted rather than just the home delivery that we'd originally planned. We're going to avoid the University Hospital where people may remember what Sophie White looked like. The doctor has his own private clinic. We won't have any problems there. But we need to get cleaned up, we can’t show up like this.”
"Yeah, that scrape on your cheek doesn't look good. What's the cover story going to be?" I asked, excitement creeping through me as well. I mean, I'd known Sophie for quite a few months, and considered her a good friend. Mark thought about my question while he drove the rest of the way to his base, a twenty four hour self storage garage in the industrial district just a half mile from the MJT headquarters. Mark tapped in the security code and the gate slid over silently. We drove through the lines of units, Mark looking for his. "Didn't think you'd have one so close to your old office."
Mark nodded absently as he found his spot and put the car into park. He left the engine running and turned to me. "I needed a spot I could stash things close by."
The base was small, only the size of a two car garage. Along the wall was a metal locker, which Mark led me to. I had my thumb tucked into the waistband of my pants, it helped the injured arm not bounce around as I moved. "Tell me about how you got the shoulder popped out."
"I lurched to the side when you started shooting up the place, landed on my right shoulder," I said. “It popped backwards, if that helps."