I’m not sure where to go. The firepower of the guards consumes the hallway leading to the back staircase, eliminating that as a way out.
I hesitate, thinking for a second before deciding on our route. If the back staircase is taken and the elevators are useless, then we have no choice but the front stairs. With a quick prayer and a plea for luck, I motion for the others to follow me.
Here goes nothing.
With each step, I clench my gun and duck for cover. The blistering amount of shooting echoing behind us makes my insides quake with fear and adrenaline. My eyes are wide open, alert. I clamp down on images of Grace by focusing on the stairwell entrance.
Next to the entrance, on the right side, is a patient room. After checking it, I wave the others on. First Bill, then Roméo, and Cole. Zeus stays with me, his face a mask of teeth and unbridled ferocity. Next, Bruno, with Grace’s body in his arms, runs past me, into the staircase. If I could’ve carried Keegan out, I would’ve.
“Go, boy,” I say. But Zeus looks at me, his tail pointed. “Zeus, go, go, go!” He plants himself next to me. Stubborn ass. I move my eyes back and forth, making sure the way’s clear. I don’t have time for this. Then I wrap my fingers into his collar and push him across the hallway on skittering nails. He practically slides through the doorway and into Cole.
Just as Zeus’s butt hits the threshold, a shot rings out from close by. I freeze and scan the perimeter, trying to figure out where it came from since the gunfire somewhere behind us has tapered off. Whoever it was knew where we were heading to make our escape. I bite my lip and squint while holding my gun, determined not to miss any detail. Then I see it. A blip of sunlight reflects from the metal of a gun.
Bingo.
There’s a monster in the room.
The door to the patient room bursts open, and the guard comes flying out toward me. I raise my gun. My blood feels electric. I fire off a few rounds and then have to change my magazine. I slam a new one in, but in that split second, he slinks away, using the door as cover. On the other side of it, I hear him talking.
“You’re coming with me.” His voice is low and flat.
Creepy as anything.
“Dream on,” I say evenly.
He sticks his gun out and takes a shot at me. It spins high above my head, but I duck down anyway. I swallow my guts and poke my barrel out firing back at him. It’s just enough to keep him behind the doorway. I can almost smell him from here, the mix of body odor, gun powder, and filth. The sunlight perfectly illuminates his shadow dancing across the door.
“You and your friends don’t stand a chance,” he says. He shoots at me, this time going off to my right. “Everyone’s hunting you down.”
“You leave them out of this,” I say. “It’s me Wilson wants, not them.”
Just keep him talking.
My heart flutters. My breathing’s ragged. I look across the hallway and see Cole’s eyes as he stands in the entrance to the staircase, staring back at me. His white hands grip the doorframe. He’s helpless. If he steps out, the shooter would just kill him on the spot.
“Don’t,” I mouth to Cole.
I see the frustration and agony painted on his face, but I don’t have time to dwell on it before the guard emasculates the walls with firepower. I slink down, curling my body into itself to avoid the ricocheting bullets. When I look up, Cole stares, narrowing his eyes and curling his lips. He glances out the door, but the gunman fires at him until he’s forced to jump back, rendering me alone. Veins bulge from both sides of his neck.
“Go,” I say.
“No,” he says. He won’t leave without me.
“You stupid whore, you’ve got nowhere to go.” The guard’s snide voice comes across muffled and low. He’s pissing me off.
“Go to hell.” I shoot at the door to the room he’s hiding in.
He’s silent for a minute, and I wonder if I got him, but then his shadow moves under the door again.
Just hold steady.
If I stay here any longer, I’m a sitting duck for the next wave of attacks. I can’t withstand them all. This delay is eating up time for all of us. My blood rushes in my ears, and I grit my teeth.
In that split second, I make a choice.
I sprint forward, rushing the doorway. The guard rustles on the other side, but I don’t stop. As he reaches around the door with his gun, I slam the door as hard as I can.
He screams out in pain. His body stumbles on the other side. Breathless, I step around the door and fire the entire contents of my gun at him. He scoots back with eyes wide as his body jerks with each bullet. Somehow, he manages to hold on to his gun. His eyes stare through me as his finger reaches the trigger.
My magazine’s empty. Crap. I reach into my waist for another one, when he lifts his gun.
I dive out of the way as a round of bullets skitter past my shoulders, smashing into the wall behind me. I hear the piercing sound of shots and cement and screams. A bullet grazes my thigh, and instantly, I let out a scream from the burning pain.