by Akart, Bobby
A woman ran into the hallway and caught Alpha by surprise. Just as he swung his rifle in her direction, she shouted, “Please don’t shoot!”
His training ignored her empty plea. He shot her anyway, her limp body dropping a handgun as it hit the floor.
Hayden joined his side again as they moved forward, stepping over several dead bodies in their path. The space, devoid of ventilation, began to reek of smoke and the metallic smell of blood.
Alpha counted the kills in his head. “Nine,” he mumbled to Hayden and then pointed to the double doors of the conference room at the end of the hallway.
They arrived together and pressed themselves against the walls flanking the entrance, using the doorjambs as cover. They made eye contact, and then Alpha shouted, his deep voice reverberating off the walls.
“Chepe! This ends now. Let us have the girl, and I promise you’ll walk out of here alive.”
An evil grin came across his face as he spoke. Of course, he was lying.
Chapter Twenty-One
The Varnadore Building
Uptown Charlotte, North Carolina
Chepe pulled Hannah off the floor and dragged her into the kitchen through the stainless-steel swinging door. His plans of making a last stand were abandoned as he listened to his top people’s screams of pain. He’d handpicked his fighters to defend the top floor and their hostage, and his pursuers had killed them all, including the woman who begged them not to. At this point, Chepe didn’t like his chances, even with the hollow promise to let him go. He knew better.
“Come on, kid,” he snarled at Hannah. “I’m getting out of here, and I’ll hold you in front of me until I’m out the door. Get up!”
Hannah wrestled against his grip, but Chepe, nervous with anxiety and fright, was much stronger. He grabbed her by the arms with a death grip and shoved her toward the cabinet doors that led to the laundry chute. Hannah lost her balance and fell forward onto the hard floor, groaning in pain through the bandanna used to gag her.
Chepe dropped to his knees and opened the doors. He glanced down into the dark space below but couldn’t see anything. The utility room on the sixth floor didn’t have any windows and was empty except for the eight-foot-square laundry basket on casters centered under the opening. Earlier, he’d gathered up pillows and linens from the offices-turned-bedrooms to create a soft landing spot in the event an emergency escape was necessary.
“Go on, jump down there!” Chepe ordered Hannah, who fought him again. She looked down toward the floor ten feet below them.
“Uh-uh,” she grunted, apprehensively shaking her head.
“Yes, you will. Now go!”
Chepe forced her into the cabinet and pushed her headfirst into the basket below. Hannah dropped into the basket with a thump, followed by a moan.
“Come on out, Chepe!” Alpha yelled again through the door. “Your people downstairs have all run off. Everyone here is dead. I’m giving you a chance to walk out of here. We just want that little girl back!”
Chepe was distracted by Alpha’s booming, bellowing voice taunting him through the conference room doors. He’d heard the gunfire from below. Then the mayhem in the hallway outside the conference room had rattled him to his core. He had one chance to escape, and it was now.
He backed into the void within the stainless-steel cabinet and dropped through the hole leading to the laundry basket below. Only, it wasn’t there.
Chepe was expecting a soft landing, and instead, his body crashed onto the concrete floor. His ankle turned unnaturally, sending pain shooting through his leg and into his back.
Hannah had recovered from the fall and crawled out of the laundry basket. Then she’d shoved it out of the way so Chepe didn’t have it to fall into.
“You little—!” Chepe’s last words were cut off as Alpha boomed from above, “We’re done fooling with you, Chepe!”
The sound of the conference room doors getting kicked in and furniture being tossed about caused Chepe to panic.
He frantically called out for Hannah, who’d hidden in the dark recesses of the laundry room behind a broken-down commercial washing machine.
Chepe yelled for her under his breath. “Where are you, kid! Come out or I’ll kill you!”
Hannah didn’t respond, but Alpha’s voice was getting closer. “Chepe! It’s time to give it up. Bring her to us safely and you live. If you don’t, the torture you’ll suffer will make you beg for death!”
“Dammit!” muttered Chepe in frustration. He tried to stand and then groaned in pain as his injured ankle caused his legs to buckle. He crawled toward the utility room door and found the handle. He pulled himself up and hopped through the exit into the hallway of the sixth floor.
Chepe abandoned his hostage and opted for self-preservation instead. He knew the building and bounced down the hallway on one leg until he reached a short hallway leading to the fire escape. Once there, he struggled with the old fire door, which refused to open.
Wrought with paranoia, he thought he heard footsteps in the hallway behind him, so he pulled his fist back and slammed it into the top half of the door, which was glass. The first punch didn’t break it out, but the second one did. Large shards of glass crashed onto the fire escape, and one piece ripped open his knuckles.
Frantic, he crawled through the opening, disregarding the damage done to his hand as he tumbled onto the steel mesh landing outside. He subconsciously took in the fresh air, and a feeling of freedom came over him.
“Almost there,” he mumbled as a smile came across his face.
Still hopping on one leg because his left ankle was most likely broken, Chepe made his way down the rusty fire escape stairs until he reached the second floor. At that point, he had to release a ladder that would fall to the ground.
Chepe pulled a piece of glass out of his hand and fumbled with the latches that held the ladder in place. Over the years, from lack of maintenance, the rust had taken hold and created a weld. Chepe pounded the steel mesh floor, causing his hand to bleed further.
He looked over the rail. The drop was over twenty feet. He was down to one ankle and couldn’t afford to lose the other.
He violently shook the ladder, hoping to break the rust weld loose. It seemed to give. He dropped to his knees once again and worked with the latches. Finally, one latch broke loose.
Chepe mustered all of his strength and tore at the other latch, trying to force it open as he could feel the pressure of his pursuers. Once again, in his paranoid state, he thought he heard someone on the stairs above him. He kept shaking the latch where it held the ladder in place, constantly looking upward to see if he’d been discovered.
His efforts paid off, much to his surprise, and chagrin. While he was focused on the people after him, the latch released and the heavy steel ladder flew down its rails toward the ground, ripping two fingers off in the process.
Chepe couldn’t control his agony as he yelled in pain. He immediately grasped his right hand and saw that his pinky and ring fingers were missing. Blood poured out of the wound and all over his body. The pain was so bad that he nearly passed out, but he managed to get control of himself.
He looked down to confirm that the ladder had reached bottom and began to climb down. With his broken ankle, he couldn’t put any weight on his left leg. He had to use his hands to lower his body—one bleeding profusely and the other still with smaller shards of glass embedded in it.
But Chepe persevered. He looked up the fire escape as he made his way downward. Blood poured out of his hand and drenched his face, obscuring his view. He was halfway down when he heard the sounds of sirens in the distance. The distraction caused him to instinctively turn toward the source, and when he did, he lost his grip.
Chepe tried to hold onto the rails as he slid downward. To slow his descent, he desperately searched with his right foot to find a rung, but he was unable to. His face, however, was more successful.
Only ten feet from the ground, Chepe’s open mouth caught a r
ung, knocking out several of his upper and lower teeth. The jolt was too much for him to endure and he lost his grip on the ladder’s rails. His body fell the final ten feet in a contorted twist, landing face-first on the concrete pavement.
Now his nose was broken. Chepe lay on the ground, motionless, prepared to die. The pain shooting through his body was so intense that he couldn’t focus on which part was the worst.
Despite the brutal beating he’d taken, Chepe was a survivor. He was still alive and had a chance.
He crawled under the canopy of the ground floor and looked for a way to pull himself up. A stack of crates, similar to the ones he’d used to stand tall and direct his anarchist army from, was just ahead. He crawled over to them, leaving a bloody trail like a slug crawling across hot pavement in the dead of summer.
With each motion forward, his hopes lifted. He felt for his car keys. He managed a bloody, toothless grin when he found them in his jeans pocket. He reached the crates and hoisted himself upright. Then, like a pogo stick, he quickly hopped toward his white Chevy Avalanche.
The pain was forgotten for now, as he used all of his strength to get into the tall pickup truck. He settled into the driver’s seat and caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror. Blood mixed with mucus poured out of his nose and over his chin. It was a ghoulish sight, reminiscent of a horror flick, but it didn’t faze him.
“You should always kill the bad guy,” he said with a laugh. “Never let them live to fight another day.”
With a guttural laugh followed by a coughing fit that spewed blood and spit all over the dash, he inserted the key into the ignition and raced out of the parking lot. Chepe had escaped the bedlam at the Varnadore.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The Varnadore Building
Uptown Charlotte, North Carolina
Alpha took one set of doors into the kitchen, and Hayden took the other. With their headlamps illuminated, they simultaneously kicked them open and burst into the darkened space. They searched the room, using the barrels of their rifles to pan the former kitchen in search of Chepe and Hannah. The room was empty.
Hayden got Alpha’s attention and used hand signals to point toward the slightly skewed doors to the laundry chute. Unsure if the space was large enough to hide Chepe and Hannah, the two proceeded with caution, shouldering their rifles and pulling their sidearms. Alpha raised his hand and counted down five fingers until he made a fist, indicating to Hayden that she should swing the doors open. He quickly moved in front of the cabinet and pointed his weapon into the void.
“Escape hatch?” He whispered his question.
Hayden glanced around the room one more time and dropped to a knee. She looked to the floor below them, allowing her headlamp to shine on the space where the laundry basket once stood. “I don’t know, but it’s the only way out of here.”
Alpha quickly alerted X-Ray and Bravo team that Chepe had escaped with Hannah to the sixth floor. He darted through the kitchen door, keeping his rifle ready to shoot anything that threatened him.
Hayden chased after him, her eyes checking every doorway and dead body as they made their way to the stairwell. When they reached the sixth floor, they slowed their pace and quietened their step. They nodded to one another, and Alpha burst into the hallway, facing right, while Hayden took the left side.
They’d illuminated their infrared laser sights on their rifles as well as the tactical flashlights attached to the weapons’ quad rails. The element of surprise was lost and now the two were hunting their frightened prey.
Room by room, they searched for Chepe, Hannah, and any anarchists who might attempt to ambush them. The sixth floor appeared to be empty. Then Hayden found the hallway leading to the fire escape. She cautiously approached the door and discovered the broken glass. She peeked outside and saw that there was blood on the steel landing and on the handrails.
“I think he escaped this way!” she shouted to Alpha.
He ran down the short hallway and took a look outside. Hayden moved in the opposite direction and entered the hallway.
“Hannah! Can you hear me? It’s Hayden. Your parents sent us to get you.”
Alpha joined in. “Hannah!”
Hayden walked slowly toward the utility room, where the door was left ajar. She’d cleared the room moments ago, but in her haste, she might’ve missed something.
Her flashlight lit up the room and she tried again, but in a softer tone of voice. “Hannah, baby, are you here? Your mom and dad miss you, and so does Handsome Dan. He’s tired of playing with Prowler.” Hayden managed a chuckle as she thought of the absurdity of those two wrestling with one another. It wouldn’t be a fair fight.
“He doesn’t like cats,” a meek voice responded.
Hayden turned to her right and walked slowly toward the large washing machine that had been gutted for parts. She kept her rifle at low ready just in case.
Hannah’s angelic face peered from around the washer, the gag resting just below her lower lip against her chin. Her hands were still tied behind her back, but she was able to move by squirming and wiggling against the wall and the washer.
Hayden shouldered her rifle and knelt down to help Hannah extract herself from the hiding place. “Come on, honey. We’ve got you now. It’s over.”
Just as Hannah was pulled out and set on her feet, Alpha entered the room unannounced. Hayden drew her sidearm and swung around with the barrel pointed at her partner.
“Hey, careful, quick-draw,” said Alpha with a chuckle. Relieved to see Hannah alive, he addressed her. “There are a lot of folks who’re worried about you, young lady. Not to mention the fact that you abandoned your post on the drone squad.”
“Um, I know, but the man came—”
Alpha laughed and walked up to Hannah. The burly man picked her up and gave her a bear hug. “Come here, Hannah. I’m just kidding you. We’re so glad you’re safe. Whadya say we get outta here and go see your parents. Okay?”
“Are they mad?” Tears streamed down her face.
“No, honey,” replied Hayden. “Of course they’re not mad. They’ve been very worried about you, and they’ll hug you harder than this big guy, trust me.”
Alpha turned toward the door and keyed his microphone. “X-Ray, this is Alpha team. Over.”
“Go ahead, Alpha.”
“We’ve got her. Over.”
“Great news. I’ll let him know. Out.”
Alpha paused as they entered the hallway and turned to Hayden. “Did he say him?”
Hayden, who was carrying the fifty-pound girl down the hallway, replied, “Yeah.”
Alpha thought for a moment. “Him who?”
Chapter Twenty-Three
East Independence Expressway
Uptown Charlotte, North Carolina
Moments earlier, X-Ray and Delta had some action of their own. “I’ve got a light-colored pickup tearing out of the parking lot,” X-Ray announced into the headset he used to communicate with the various teams used to rescue Hannah. He was directing the statement to Delta, who stood vigil on the hillside, monitoring the activity through his binoculars.
Delta immediately responded, “I saw it. Driver’s in a hellfire emergency. At least he has wheels, unlike the rest of the vermin who scampered off on foot. Does Alpha still want us to stand down on the people escaping?”
“Hold on,” X-Ray replied to him. “I need to replay the drone footage.”
X-Ray then turned his attention to the monitor that displayed the drone footage for the east side of the Varnadore Building. Both drones had been in the air for quite some time and were due to be brought back down to their operators, as their batteries were drained.
X-Ray addressed Delta again. “The driver’s a male. He appears to be hunched over, like he’s cradling something. I don’t know, it’s hard to tell.”
Delta immediately noticed the fleeing vehicle. “The truck’s coming this way on the on-ramp, headed eastbound on the freeway.”
“Wait.�
� X-Ray paused for what seemed like an eternity. He rubbed his temples, trying to remember. “Delta, that might be Chepe’s truck. The lead vehicle returning to the Varnadore after the attack was a white Chevy Avalanche.”
“We’ve gotta be sure!” shouted Delta as he ran down the hillside and found his way to his Silverado. He fired up the powerful V-8 engine and spun the tires as he pulled off the wet grass mixed with gravel.
“I can’t help you with the tail,” X-Ray warned. “The drones are out of juice.”
“No problem, I can see his taillights.”
“Delta, also, you’ll be out of radio range in just a few minutes.”
“Roger. Let me know if conditions at the Varnadore change. I need to know if Hannah is in that truck!”
X-Ray’s voice was excited. “You’ve got it. Go get them!”
Delta floored the gas pedal and the heavy truck raced ahead. He’d driven squad cars in the past during high-speed pursuits, but never anything as big and bulky as the Suburban. He wasn’t sure how fast it would go, although the car salesman had bragged that it was capable of doing one hundred thirty miles per hour.
He was about to find out. There was no traffic on the expressway, only the occasional stalled vehicle that had pulled toward the side of the road. The white Avalanche that Delta pursued must not have noticed him because as he hit one hundred miles an hour, he closed rapidly on what he suspected was Chepe’s truck.
Delta was within a quarter mile of the Avalanche when he glanced to his left and noticed the Rick Hendrick family of car dealerships. The irony didn’t escape him as he closed within fifty feet of the Avalanche’s tailgate. Hendrick, one of the most successful owners in NASCAR racing history, would be proud to see two Chevys duking it out for the win, with the loser destined to die.
X-Ray attempted to contact Delta, but the transmission was garbled.
