I backed away from the entrance, scooting across the floor and away from Stocky’s men. My mind worked in that dire moment, struggling to figure out my plan of attack.
They walked inside the cold, dark room, shinning their flashlights at my face. I held my hand up, blocking their beams.
My back hit the far wall. I slid up the rigid surface until I was on my feet. I eyed both men, watching to see who’d come at me first.
Black Tactical removed the sling of his rifle from his shoulder and leaned it against the wall near the doorway. The light shone at the ceiling, brightening up the room a bit more. I spotted the dark lantern on the floor.
He removed his dual-filter mask and tossed it to the floor next to the rifle. He cracked his knuckles, then popped his neck.
Burly holstered the P320 on the side of his hip and stood guard at the doorway. He looked at me with a blank stare and kept his flashlight trained in my direction.
I raised my arms and balled my fingers into tight fists. A brawler by nature, I could take a beating, but I could also dish one out.
Black Tactical parroted my fighting stance and came at me. We traded blows, hammering each other with right crosses and jabs. His fists felt like blocks of cement. He moved fast and hit hard.
The two men swapped, taking turns at me. Both dished a hearty meal of punishment that seemed to span for a lifetime.
Blood seeped from my nose. I favored my right side. My face throbbed from the heavy-handed goons striking me. I landed a few good shots on each, busting Burly’s bottom lip and blackening Black Tactical’s left eye.
I grew winded, tired from the constant barrage of being attacked and fighting. My muscles burned, struggling to keep my guard up. I dropped to my knees, head dangling toward the floor. I spat a wad of blood against the concrete.
Burly towered over me, just as spent. He placed both hands on his hips and gasped for air. I eyed the P320 near his hand.
Black Tactical took a breather across the room. He bent over with his hands resting on his knees. Each breath sounded labored—strained.
“Are you getting tired of me handing your ass to you?” I asked through panted breaths.
Burly grabbed my coat, then yanked me from the floor. He threw me back and pinned me against the wall with his large hand. He drew his arm back.
A muffled gunshot sounded from the dark hallway. Burly stopped, then peered over his shoulder at his partner. Black Tactical moved toward the open doorway and looked out into the dark corridor.
I listened, hearing the faint crackle through the ceiling. Shot after shot filled my ears. Domingo’s men had arrived from the sounds of it.
Black Tactical grabbed the barrel of his rifle and retrieved his mask from the floor. Burly took a step back, eyeing the hallway. His elbow bent, giving me a bit of room to move.
I knocked his hand away with my arm, then pulled the P320 from his holster. He flinched, then looked back at me. I fired two rounds in his chest at close range. He fell to the ground—dead on impact.
Black Tactical shouldered his rifle and turned toward me. I unloaded the magazine in his chest and placed one shot through the middle of his forehead. He dropped the rifle to the floor, then crumbled inside the doorway.
My ears rang. I tossed the spent P320 to the floor and made for the hallway. I picked up the rifle and ejected the magazine. Fully stocked.
I slapped it into place, shouldered the weapon, then stepped over his body. I peered out into the hallway, slipped through the doorway, and moved in the direction Anna was taken.
The hammering of gunfire remained steady. I moved fast, sweeping the hallway. Light from around the bend washed over the far wall. Heavy footfalls tromped the floor, heading my way.
I killed the light, paused at the corner, and waited.
The light grew brighter. I lowered the rifle and turned it around. The barrel of the rifle materialized past the corner, followed by its handler. I hammered the side of his shadowy head with the buttstock of the rifle, sending him to the floor. I moved in quick, kicking the groaning man in his face. His head snapped back, then fell forward—lifeless.
The lights overhead flickered and came on. I squinted and diverted my gaze toward the floor, giving my eyes time to adjust to the gleam. The familiar hum of electricity pumping through the bulbs remained steady. I peered down the hallway at the camera mounted on the wall. They’d be working now.
I shouldered the rifle and moved down the hallway, trying to steer clear of the camera’s lens. I followed along the snaking path, stopping at each junction and sweeping the next corridor.
The steel door at the end of the hallway sat open. The hammering of gunfire loomed from the space beyond.
I ventured down the corridor, heading toward the doorway. Multiple rounds pinged off the steel door. I stopped and took a knee. One of McCone’s men stumbled past the corner, and slammed into the door. His shoulders sagged, his chest heaving.
The pistol he carried was trained at the floor. He lifted his arm and looked in the direction he’d fled from.
A swarm of incoming fire hit him center mass. His body jolted. His arm dropped to his side, and he slid down the door. He hit the ground and dumped over onto the floor.
A lean man with thick, black hair wearing a black bandana with crosses on it approached with his heater trained at the dead man. He stopped, then turned my way.
I lined up the barrel of the rifle with his forehead. He aimed his piece at me, but didn’t fire. He lowered the weapon slowly and advanced toward me. I moved out of his way, keeping the rifle shouldered and trained on him as he passed by.
He paused at the corner for a second, then spun around with his piece up and at the ready.
I darted down the corridor and out through the doorway, stepping over the dead man slumped onto his side. I checked the hallway at my three o’clock, and found it clear of any targets.
I kept close to the wall, the rifle shouldered, and rushed to the next corner of the hallway. The soles of my shoes squeaked over the tile floor. My heart thumped inside my ears. Panted breaths escaped my parted lips.
The double doors at the far end of the corridor had taken damage. The wood grain was splintered from the multiple rounds that punched through the door. Gunshots loomed from beyond the doors.
I toed the edge of the wall, listening and watching the doors. The gunfire increased. Round after round punched through the dense wood.
The doors flung open, slamming against the walls. One of Domingo’s men lurched through the doorway, dragging his foot along the floor. Muzzle fire flashed behind him. The rounds hit his back and punched through his chest. His face contorted in pain. His knees gave. He fell to the floor face first.
I fired at the long, black-haired man who wielded the Uzi, hitting him in the stomach. He dropped to his knees, palming his gut. I moved beyond the corner of the wall with my attention focused on the open doors.
A flash of movement surprised me from the adjoining hallway. I spun on my heels. A knife sliced across my forearm, cutting through the sleeve of the jacket with ease.
My hand released the hand grip of the rifle. The barrel dipped toward the tile floor. I backed away, putting distance between me and the attacker.
Stocky flipped the blade around in his hand with the serrated edge pointing toward the floor. He charged me like a bull seeing red.
I used the rifle as a shield, deflecting each strike of his blade. The knife clanged off the weapon. He forced me backward, unyielding in his attacks.
Stocky slashed at my stomach. I knocked his arm away, then rammed the buttstock of the rifle into his face. He took a step back, shook his head, then gnashed his teeth.
“I’m going to gut you right here on this floor,” he said, sounding more beast than man.
“We’ll see about that,” I shot back.
He lunged at me. The tip of the blade pointed at me. I shouldered the rifle and squeezed the trigger as he brought the blade down. Fire flashed from the muzzle.<
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The single round punched into his upper chest, above his heart. His eyes enlarged, mouth open. He fell to the floor, palming the hole from the flat of his back. The blade clattered on the ground at his side.
“Where’s Anna and Cindy?” I asked, training the rifle at his head.
Stocky writhed on the floor, raking the heel of his shoes across the tile. I kicked the knife away from his hand.
“Go to hell.” He lifted his head from the floor.
“Wrong answer.” I mashed my foot on top of his hand so it covered the wound. He howled in pain, squirming under me and kicking his legs. “Tell me now, or so help—”
A blood curdling, feminine scream sounded from the open doors.
Stocky grabbed at my ankle. I kicked his hand away, then popped off two more rounds in his chest. The discomfort on his face waned. He ceased moving. His eyes remained open—glassy and staring at the ceiling.
I shouldered the rifle and continued on. I focused on the panicked screams as I moved down the next hallway. Broken pieces of vases crunched under my feet. The bullet-ridden paintings on the walls hung at angles.
The door up ahead shuddered, then swung open. Cindy bolted from the room, panting and looking over her shoulder. She tripped over her feet, falling to the floor. Two men rushed out of the room after her with pistols drawn.
She backed away with her hand in the air as she faced the armed men. They closed in, surrounding her. I opened fire, cutting both down where they stood. The rifle clicked empty as they hit the floor around Cindy.
She looked my way. The tangled strands of brown hair framed her flushed face. The naked fear lingering in her eyes and the tremble in her lips held firm.
I rushed to her side, helping her off the floor. She threw her arms around my neck, squeezing so tight I couldn’t breathe.
“Thank God you’re still alive,” Cindy said, relieved. “I thought they’d killed you.”
I discarded the spent rifle, and patted her back. “Not for lack of trying.”
Cindy took a step back, and cleared her throat. “What’s going on here?”
I stooped between the guards and took one of their Glocks. “Long story. We need to track down Anna. They were taking her to see the big boss man, Mr. McCone.”
Cindy brushed the hair away from her face, turned, then pointed down the hallway. “I think they took her that way. I heard a bunch of noise and shouting through the walls earlier.”
I ejected the magazine, looked it over, then slapped it back into the well. I racked the slide, then handed the pistol to Cindy. “Take it.”
“Um.” She glanced at the weapon, then to me. “I’m not so—”
“It’ll be fine.” I shoved the gun in her hand, retrieved the other piece, then stood up. “It’s ready to fire. All you need to do is point at any bad guys that try to kill us and shoot.”
The Glock trembled in her hand. She stared at the weapon, then looked up at me with an uncertain gaze.
I walked past her, then nodded down the hall. “Come on, just don’t shoot me.”
A frown formed on her face. She held the pistol loose in her hand and followed alongside me. We moved down the hallway, then around the bend.
The gunfire ebbed with only a few reports sounding. We skirted past both Domingo’s and McCone’s men lying on the floor.
Cindy stayed glued to my back, mimicking every move I made. I swept the hallways and open doors we passed for any armed men waiting for an easy target.
The wide hallway we traveled down had more dead bodies sprawled out on the floor. I studied each for movement and for Anna’s white coat, but didn’t spot her.
A loud crashing noise sounded from the end of hall, followed by barking. Shadow.
I trained the Glock in the direction of the ruckus. Cindy peered around my waist, the pistol down at her side.
Anna tumbled around the corner, rolling end over end. She got to her feet, brought the piece she wielded to bear, and fired off two rounds.
A thud hit the floor.
She swung toward us.
I put my hands in the air. “Whoa. It’s just us.”
Her chest heaved. The white coat was stained with splotches of blood. She lowered the piece, then exhaled. “Good to see the both of you are still alive.”
Shadow ran to her side, walking with a slight limp on her front leg. She circled Anna, then stared at us.
“I could say the same thing about—”
Gunfire popped off behind Cindy and me. I flinched. Cindy gasped.
A round caught the side of my arm as I turned around. It tore through the jacket, grazing the skin.
Cindy squeezed the trigger of her Glock, firing at the gunman stalking us down the hallway. He ducked.
The bullets zipped toward him. One found its mark in his shoulder and the other through his chest. He hit the ground—dead.
“Are you all right?” I asked, standing behind her.
Cindy dropped the Glock and kicked it away. “Yeah. I’m–” She looked away from the man she’d just killed, then brushed past me. I turned and walked to her side.
Anna met us halfway with Shadow beside her. Her bottom lip was swollen, and she had a cut across her cheek. “Domingo went after McCone. I killed Blondie and a few of his men when the shit hit the fan. Wasn’t pretty.”
Shadow panted hard and looked up at us.
“I see you found her.” I looked Shadow over, finding a portion of her fur above her front right leg wet with blood. “Is she all right?”
Anna rubbed Shadow’s head. The German shepherd wagged her tail. “Yeah. They clipped her. They were holding her in a cage. McCone didn’t want to have her killed, yet. I’m glad I found her when I did.”
“That’s good.” I pointed back the way Cindy and I had come from. “I took out a few of McCone’s men that way, including that stocky bastard.”
“I think Domingo’s boys have swept most of the building,” Anna said, glancing down at the mural of blood on her coat. “I don’t think there’s many of McCone’s crew left, if any.”
“You all right?” I asked, looking Anna over.
She nodded. “Yeah. A little roughed up, but I’ll live. You?”
“Aside from having the shit kicked out of me, I’m doing all right.” I spotted movement down the hall, and brought the Glock up, training it at the two men stumbling out from the narrow passage in the wall.
Anna turned on her heels, bringing her piece to bear. Cindy moved around to my back, using me as her shield. Shadow whipped around, then lowered to the floor, growling.
Antonio and Domingo stopped, then trained their pistols at us. They didn’t lower theirs and we didn’t lower ours.
“Did you get him?” Anna asked. Shadow snarled and barked.
Domingo shook his head, winded and spent. “We clipped him. He ran into his office. We aren’t able to get through the door. Going to have to get some tools to get in. I don’t think he’s going anywhere anytime soon.”
Anna nodded. “Are we good here?”
Domingo glanced at Anna, then over to me. Antonio looked as though he wanted to kill us from his furrowed brow and squinted eyes.
“Yeah. We’re good.” Domingo lowered his heater, then nudged Antonio. “Sweep the building. Tie up any loose ends.”
Antonio tilted his head, then left Domingo’s side. He lowered his piece and walked past us, giving an evil glare.
Shadow growled under her breath as he continued on down the corridor.
We lowered our guns and stood at ease.
Domingo trudged over to us, favoring his right arm. Blood seeped down the outside of the brown coat he wore. He extended his hand to Anna.
Shadow inched forward.
Domingo stopped, lowered his hand, peered at the protective German shepherd, then looked at Anna.
“It’s okay. Stand down, girl.” Anna rubbed the canine’s head. Shadow obeyed, but remained on guard, watching Domingo.
“Cute dog.” Domingo extended his
hand to Anna once more.
“Thanks.” She shook his hand.
“I hope we can work together again sometime,” he said, offering a slight smirk through the pain.
“Maybe we will,” Anna replied.
Domingo let go of her hand, then pointed to the front entrance of the building. “Why don’t you four get out of here while we finish up? There are a couple of SUVs parked outside. Feel free to take a few of them. Consider it a parting gift from the McCones. We took out a handful of their men outside, so you should be good to go.”
Anna slapped the back of her hand against my stomach. “Come on. Let’s go.” She walked away with Cindy and Shadow following alongside her. I nodded at Domingo and caught up with them.
We left the building and stepped outside to the bitter wind. Two black Escalades sat parked in the drive. Six of McCone’s men laid face down on the pavement.
I turned toward Cindy. “Did you want us to take you to your son?”
She shook her head. “No. You two have done more than enough with taking out McCone and his men. I’ll be fine from here. I’m going to head straight there. I need to get out of this city. Away from all of this.”
Cindy gave me a tight hug, then Anna. She took a knee and petted Shadow’s head. She stood up, and said, “Thanks again for everything. It’s nice to know people are still willing to help others, especially in times like these.”
“Take care of yourself,” I said.
“I will.” Cindy walked away and ran around one of the parked Escalades. She climbed inside the driver’s seat and started the vehicle. The headlights came on, casting its bright-white glow over the SUV before it. She pulled around the vehicle and made for the street.
We loaded into the other SUV. I settled behind the steering wheel with Anna in the front passenger seat and Shadow stowed in the back. I started the vehicle and pumped the gas.
Anna tossed her piece onto the dash, then slumped into the seat. Shadow poked her head between both seats and licked at Anna’s cheek.
“You ready to get back on the road?” Anna asked, looking at me while rubbing the side of the German shepherd’s maw.
I shifted into drive and glanced her way. “More than anything.”
Brink of Extinction | Book 2 | Stay Alive Page 23
