by Rebecca Rode
I rushed down the hallway, making sure to make the least amount of noise possible. I held my hand up a few feet from the corner that led into the lobby. It stopped Emily in her tracks. I peeked around the corner and jerked back almost immediately, my mind reviewing what my eyes had just seen. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
“What’s happening?” Ignoring my better judgment, I explained the scene in the lobby with a whispered voice. “There are three terrorists pointing guns at all the people we just freed, plus others. There’s also a suicide bomber with a jacket full of explosives standing at one side of the circle of hostages and another across the room holding a cell phone in the air. I’m sure it’s the detonator. They seem to be waiting on something.”
My dizziness had prevented us from being in the same predicament. One minute had saved us. Five terrorists. Why were they waiting to blow everyone up? Terrorists struck hard and fast most of the time. Why weren’t they? What were they waiting for?
I took another deep breath. Why? Why was this happening? “These terrorists are like cockroaches.” I said under my breath. “We will never be able to get rid of them.” I huffed and thought about the window in the bathroom. I could get there without being seen. I could climb out the window and go save Jeremy. I could make a break for it. But how could I abandon these people? If I stayed here, I’d lose Jeremy. The choice was unbearable. My insides seemed to cave in.
I peered around the corner again. About one hundred people were smashed together in a circle. Jeremy’s words sang out to me. I’m only one person. They are more important than I am. I knew that if I saved Jeremy and these people died because of it, Jeremy would never forgive me for my selfishness, but how could I leave him to drown in that sewer? My heart and mind fought for several agonizing minutes as I refused to make the decision.
“Jenny?” Emily said in a whisper. “Are you okay?”
She was worried about me, not herself. I needed to be selfless like her. Could I be? Deep in my heart, I knew that if the tables were turned, I would want Jeremy to save the people instead of me. And just like that, another bolt of realization lightning struck my soul. I knew. The terrorists were waiting for the cameras. They were waiting for the storm to pass and word to get out that they were in the courthouse and had hostages that they were going to destroy.
I clenched my teeth and stifled a groan, denying myself the desire to go straight to Jeremy. I worked on a plan of attack. Was it even possible to take the terrorists out without injuring anyone else? Without triggering the bombs hanging on the suicide bomber and killing us all? Could I even shoot both the triggerman and the suicide bomber fast enough to prevent one or the other from detonating the bombs? I was fast, but not that fast. They were at opposite ends of the room. I glanced back around the corner, noticing several security cameras had been destroyed—blown to pieces. They wanted to control what people saw on the news. I leaned on the wall, thinking.
If I could somehow be fast enough, my shots also had to be perfect. The terrorists wore vests. I couldn’t send one into the suicide bomber’s chest. It had to be his brain—a much smaller target. I would only have one shot for him and one for detonator man. Then I could take out the biggest of the three remaining terrorists with my last shot. After that, I would storm in and take out the other two with hand to hand combat. I forced myself to believe it was possible. It wasn’t.
I visualized the scene once more, imagining my actions, the gun pointed out from my stiff arms. I couldn’t imagine it, however. My hands shook, and my eyes clouded with worry. There was so much riding on this, and my head ached. The safety of all those people and Jeremy. I had to get through this fast to get to him.
A cold hand landed on my forearm, and I startled. Emily’s warm eyes met mine and she said, “What are we going to do?”
That was all it took for me to snap back into focus. “Hold on one second. I’m working out a plan.”
I had to figure out a way to overcome the big problem—the distance between detonator man and the one with all the bombs strapped to him. They needed to be taken out simultaneously or the place would be blown to smithereens. If I shot the detonator guy, the guy with the bombs could easily release some fail safe or even shoot himself to get the bombs attached to him to explode. And if I shot the suicide bomber, all the man with the trigger had to do was push the button. And the trigger man had the trigger in his hand, his finger hovering over the button. There was no way I could shoot both of them fast enough to neutralize the threat.
As I was racking my brain for a solution, I heard Emily's sweet voice say,
“Just so you know, I can shoot. I grew up hunting with my dad and four brothers. We have a whole arsenal at home."
No. I couldn’t put that on Emily. She was too sweet. Too untainted. The idea of having her involved with this made me sick. But even as horrible as it was, I recognized that there were only three bullets and two guns. I looked at Emily’s slightly trembling hand and wondered if she could really do it. There was so much pressure.
“I’m a really good shot. I almost never miss.” As she spoke, her hands stopped trembling.
“Killing animals and shooting cans is different than shooting a person.” I grimaced.
“Those people out there are threats,” Emily hissed. “And I’m not going to let them kill hundreds of people. My conscience wouldn’t allow it. I could never live with myself.”
My mind searched for another solution, but none came to me. I looked at this girl, her face white with anticipation and fear. And I knew as sure as the beating of my heart, that it was the right decision, the only decision. I reached into my waistband, my decision made, and handed Emily the Glock with one bullet inside. Emily would shoot the detonator man, and I would shoot the bomber. And if Emily missed, hopefully I would have gotten the bomber down quick enough to get the detonator guy. “I want you to imagine—”
Emily interrupted me. “A clock?”
I smiled. Maybe there really was some hope. “Exactly. Your shot, if he’s still in the same spot, which I will verify, is at two. My shot is at seven. You only have one shot.” The girl nodded, and I could see her mind racing as she accepted that she had to be dead on with her one shot. “I can do this.” Her words were steady and firm.
“Yes, you can.” If she missed, I had no idea how I would fight off three terrorists at once. We practiced twice. Emily trembled between each practice shot and her face seemed to grow graver by the minute. No more practice. We needed to act. We stood next to each other. I counted down, “Three, two, one.”
We turned the corner and shot.
Chapter 12
I WATCHED THE SUICIDE BOMBER I’d shot fall to the ground. Before I could turn and take aim on the detonator guy, he fell. Emily had hit her mark. Two terrorists down. A true miracle, but there was no time for celebrating. Emily had followed my instructions and had lain flat the second after she shot. It was natural for most of the crowd to duck and lay down also, but a few stayed up, frozen in fear.
“Get down, and stay down!” I yelled out.
Shots rang out. I zigged and zagged, readying to take out another terrorist. Bullets struck the floor near me and sailed passed me. As soon as the path cleared, I sent my second shot into the terrorist who had been standing next to the detonator man. His gun clattered to the floor. I knew my aim had been true. He was dead. His large mass slumped to the floor.
To my surprise, Judge Mitchell, Freeman, and Lam were fighting the terrorist I had planned on taking out next. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt, but I appreciated the help. Fighting three men would have been more than difficult, especially in my present state.
There were screams and cries and general wailing. I blocked the sounds and my focus fell on the one obviously well-trained terrorist who was fighting off the three men. He still held a gun. I had to stop him. The last terrorist, however, was moving quickly toward the bomber, his gun raised. He had put his focus back on the original plan. I couldn’t let that happ
en.
I leapt over clumps of people until I reached him. His attention now turned on me, as I had planned. To my horror, he reached down and grabbed Charlotte, whose screeches clawed at my ears.
He held a gun up to her neck. I rolled, snatching up one of the guns from the fallen. In a split second I registered that it was also a Glock. The weight told me two bullets were inside. I had to make them count. My angle wasn’t good, but I took the shot anyway, a portion of panic getting the better of me. It went wide. I’d been too afraid of hitting Charlotte. With a quick readjustment, I was able to get the perfect shot.
Click. Nothing. The gun was empty or jammed.
I rolled to my feet, avoiding the spray of bullets from the other terrorist’s semiautomatic. It had fallen from his hands, causing it to spray bullets all around. Chaos erupted as everyone moved to avoid the onslaught. Several cried out in pain as bullets struck them.
A hooded figure appeared in my peripheral vision. He was not there a moment ago. That moment of distraction allowed the terrorist who had been holding Charlotte to tackle me. We rolled, and I tried to disentangle myself from his grasp, but he was well trained. When we came to a stop, both of us saw the handgun, only a foot from our heads, at the same time.
He was bigger than I was. Was I faster? We both reached for it at the same time. Our hands collided in midair, but he recovered more quickly than I did and got his hand wrapped around the gun. This was it. He had my legs pinned and his heavy, muscled body draped over mine. I reached fruitlessly for the gun. His reach was longer than mine. He aimed right at my head. I pushed against his body with all my strength.
Nothing.
A shot rang out.
The terrorist’s hand went limp, and the gun tumbled onto my head with a clunk. I saw stars.
I tried to blink them away. Was I shot? I couldn’t feel any pain besides that inside my head. Had he missed? His heavy body rolled off me, and I opened my eyes. There were still stars, but through them, I saw the only face I wanted to see.
Jeremy’s.
Maybe I was dead. Was I dead? I blinked. Jeremy’s lips moved. Were we in heaven together? I pressed my eyes shut again and kept them that way until I felt lips on mine. My eyes popped open. Those were Jeremy’s lips. He was real. Alive. “Are you okay?”
I tried to nod, but that wasn’t going to happen. A freight train was tumbling through my head.
“I’ll be right back.” He stood and turned away from me. Only then did I notice his arm strapped tightly to him with a torn T-shirt. I heard the sounds of hand to hand combat. I looked to my left to see Jeremy in heated battle, using only one arm, with the terrorist who had been fighting with the Judge, Lam, and Freeman. Like an avenging angel, he took care of the terrorist. His fluid movements were beautiful in their simplicity and power and yet he was wounded, severely. Because of it, the terrorist got in a few good hits, but Jeremy’s skills, even with one arm surpassed his. I had a hard time not simply gawking and admiring him. He was a formidable opponent and true spy.
The terrorist had no hope. He fell in less than a minute.
Whimpering and crying filled the air. Emily and the two judges were up checking on the people around them. It was a beautiful sight to see them all comforting each other. A couple of men who hadn’t been in the shelter gawked at Jeremy, looking frozen.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I forced myself to sit, Jeremy headed my way.
It was Jeremy. Jeremy saved the day. He grabbed me up into my arms and I sobbed. Of all the scary things we’d been through together, this was the worst, mostly because we’d been fighting and I’d said things that I really didn’t feel.
Chapter 13
I WAS BLEEDING PRETTY BAD where the terrorist’s gun had fallen onto my forehead and my head hammered with pain. The flood of ambulance workers filled the hall only minutes after SWAT cleared the building. They worked on stabilizing everyone and moving those with graver injuries into ambulances. SWAT kept the press and everyone else away from the scene. The storm had passed, but the destruction remained, along with streams of water searching for storm drains.
Jeremy and I insisted on being put in the same ambulance, and while my scrapes and cuts were quickly cleaned and bandaged, Jeremy’s arm was taking some time. With the streets still flooded and the masses of curious people hanging around, as well as the press wanting to get their stories, it was slow going to get out of that place. But Jeremy and I needed to get out of there before the police and press started asking us questions.
“Are we headed for the hospital?” I asked the paramedic. If that’s what was going to happen, we could easily escape from the hospital.
“No, not yet anyway. We’ve been instructed to hold everybody without life-threatening injuries here for questioning.”
That was not what I wanted to hear. I needed to act quickly to give us the chance to get out of there.
“That’s about as good as it’s going to get until they set it and cast it,” he said. “These meds should help with the pain until that time.” He handed Jeremy two pills and a water bottle. “I’ll go let them know we’re done with you.”
“Could you maybe,” I said, wanting to keep him from coming back for a while, “talk to whoever is in charge and convince them to move us up the list so that we don’t have to wait too long? His arm is pretty bad.” Jeremy’s arm was swollen to twice its size and black and blue.
“No guarantees, but I will try.” The paramedic jumped out of the back of the ambulance. We took our opportunity to escape and climbed through to the front of the ambulance and out of the front doors. I stopped Jeremy once we were a few cars away. Chaos remained at the courthouse and all around us. Police and emergency vehicles clogged the streets, and swarms of people and reporters stood just outside the police line. I was glad to be leaving that death trap behind. Even military vehicles started to roll in. I had a few things that I needed to say before we went any further, but Jeremy spoke before I could.
“Did all of that really happen? Was I trapped in the sewers? Were you trapped in an underground shelter?”
“It’s a nightmare become reality. One of the terrorists told Emily, one of the captives in that room, that she would pay for his sister’s death. I’m sure they were all family in some way. It’s such a shame they’re all gone now. I just don’t get how they got the secrets of the courthouse. They had to have an inside man.”
“They did. It was Ahmed Samaar and Melek Arshad, the Muslim liason to courts and the Muslim IT professional who works in the building.” He raised his eyebrows.
“Crazy. Why anyone would help anyone do what happened today, I have no idea. I’m glad it’s over.”
“Let’s get out of here before someone spots us.”
“Wait.” I grabbed his uninjured hand. “I'm so sorry, Jeremy. I do trust you. I love you.” Inside me went all warm and fuzzy when I admitted it. He was my match. I loved him. “I do,” I repeated, knowing I was telling the truth as a warm feeling continued spread through me. “I’m so glad that you didn’t die in those tunnels. That was way too close.”
“Definitely the scariest moment of my life happened in those tunnels,” Jeremy admitted. “I thought I was not only going to die, but worse, I wasn’t going to be able to save you. I felt so helpless.”
Warmth spread through my chest. “Let’s not do that again.”
“For sure.”
“I wanted to tell you that I loved you when you were in the sewer tunnels, but I panicked. I’ve always trusted you. I was stupid and insecure. I let my jealousies and insecurities make me forget. I’m so sorry. I love you, and it won’t happen again."
“No,” Jeremy said. “I’m sorry. I was only trying to protect you, but I didn’t handle it well. Celeste is a bloodhound of a reporter. She would’ve made the connection had I not gone straight for her. I had to distract her. Looking back, I can see how it could make you feel jealous, and I’m sorry about that. I should’ve just told you what I was doing. If I would’ve st
opped to think about how you might see it—me with my old girlfriend—none of this would have happened, but I didn’t. I should have been more open and told you everything right up front…” He brushed his good hand against my cheek. “I just should have talked to you about my past with Celeste and you would’ve known that there was nothing to be jealous of. You’re the only girl for me. Celeste was just a bad experience I had to have on my way to finding you."
My heart melted into a little puddle in my chest. He took me in his arms and we kissed, his lips familiar, warm, and comforting.
“How did you get out of that manhole anyway?”
He chuckled a little. “You’re not going to like it.”
I raised my eyebrows. He grabbed my hands.
“Celeste and her cameraman were out in front of the courthouse filming the storm and the aftermath, and believe it or not they heard me shouting and clinking my keys on the metal. Her cameraman was able to drag me out.” As he spoke there was a chuckle hidden behind each word. “Immediately Celeste sprang on me. She gave me mouth-to-mouth.”
My eyes shot wide. Now he laughed out loud, then winced as he accidentally moved his arm. For a brief second I didn’t know what to be more alarmed about—Celeste’s lips on his or the fact that he wasn’t breathing when he came out of the manhole. My jaw dropped. “You stopped breathing? You were dead?”
“That's the thing,” he said through his laughter. “I didn't need mouth-to-mouth. She was just being overzealous.”
I laughed, no jealousy remaining in me. “Well, I really didn’t want to know that, but thanks for being honest.”
He nodded.
“And that’s when you came for me."
“Yep.”
