“I’m not ready,” said Marisa. Her muscles felt locked and rigid; she couldn’t move if she wanted to. Sahara and Bao grabbed her together and pulled her out of the speeding car.
Marisa hit the ground with a scream, scraping and rolling and tumbling across the rough asphalt. She covered her head with her arm, and even when she stopped moving the world seemed to keep spinning around her. Her torso ached, the new bruise throbbing on one side and the jagged scab tearing with her movement on the other. She took a deep breath, clearing her head, and staggered to her feet. Bao was nearby, and she helped him stand up.
“Thanks,” she said. “The door’s there.” Sahara caught up to them, Campbell and Camilla hovering over her, and together they ran toward the cloud of window nulis jockeying for position to wash the back door.
“There’s like ten doors back here,” said Fang. “I just passed them, on my way back around to the front.”
“Mierda,” said Marisa, panting as they ran. “I forgot about those—there’s a whole row of loading doors back there.”
“We have to breach every door we can,” said Sahara. “If we only hit two they’ll know exactly where to look.”
“Can the nulis do it?” asked Bao.
“Not the window washers,” said Marisa. They had almost reached the back door.
“Maybe one of the camera nulis,” said Sahara, “but I don’t know how, and we don’t have a lot of time to figure it out.”
“Take the gun,” said Bao, handing it over to Sahara. “You two go through the side door, just like we planned; I’ll head to the loading doors and . . . improvise. We have about thirty seconds.” He flashed a split-second grin, then turned and sprinted toward the back of the building.
Marisa ran to the side door, but saw a movement from the corner of her eye. She looked toward the front of the building and saw three Tì Xū Dāo gangsters running toward them. “That’s not good.”
Sahara joined her by the wall, looking down at the gun in her hands and then back up at the thugs. “They must have followed the car.”
“Maybe they’re just running away from the fight,” said Marisa. One of them raised a gun and fired, barely missing them. “Okay then. Maybe we’re just screwed.”
“Hurry up, Fang,” said Sahara. She reached the wall, Marisa right behind her, taking what shelter they could from the swarm of nulis trying to polish the door. The gangster fired again, and one of the nulis exploded in a shower of sparks and plastic fragments. “Any time you’re ready.”
“Not yet,” said Marisa, “Bao needs more time.”
A thundering crash echoed through the air.
“Niú bī!” yelled Fang. “I can’t wait to do that again!”
“Time to get out of this kill zone,” said Sahara. She stepped out from the wall, aimed, and fired one-two-three-four rounds into the doorknob. Carlo Magno’s pistol wasn’t a rail gun like Calaca had been packing, but at this range it blew an ample hole in the door, and the shattered remains of the bolt fell out onto the ground. Marisa threw it open and charged in, and Sahara emptied the rest of the magazine at the gangsters, trying to slow them down before following her in. The girls found themselves in a short hallway at the base of some metal stairs leading up to the second floor. Campbell and Camilla buzzed in behind them, and Sahara sent them ahead to see where the hall and stairs went, while she and Marisa pulled the door closed and dragged a garbage can in front of it. Marisa wished there was something more, but it was the best they could do.
“Up,” said Sahara, and they clattered up toward the second floor. They’d barely reached the first landing when the door flew open below them, and the charging gangsters kicked the garbage can out of the way with a shout of rage. Marisa patched herself into the nulis’ camera feeds as she ran; Campbell was in the first floor hallway, and turned around for a look at the Tì Xū Dāo. All three were still there, and climbing the stairs. Camilla had already reached the top of the stairs, finding only a closed door.
“Miércoles,” said Marisa. She sprinted up the last few steps and tried the handle. It was locked. “We’re trapped.”
Sahara put her back to the door, facing the oncoming thugs with grim determination. “Trapped isn’t beaten,” she said. “Stay behind me.”