by Kim Linwood
“Us. Getting us out of here,” I emphasize, not liking the way he left himself out of that equation.
He smiles and brushes a kiss across my dry lips. Streaks of blood still decorate his face, but I don’t care. In this moment, he’s the most beautiful man in the world, gore and all.
“This is our best shot.” Payne tests the window, and it opens easily, letting in a frigid gust of winter air. Outside, the daylight is fading, but the sun won’t really be gone for another hour still.
“Are you kidding me? Do I look like Spider Woman?”
“I know. It’s not a great plan, but look.” He points straight down the eight foot drop under the window. It ends on a relatively flat rooftop that runs over to the factory side of the building. “How good are you at landing?”
“Can’t we just shoot our way out?” I offer, shaking my head desperately. “No. No, I can do it. I’ve never done it in the middle of winter onto an icy roof, but it’ll be just like my academy training.” Only slicker.
“That’s the spirit.” He pats me on the shoulder. “I’ll go first, just in case the roof is weak or someone’s waiting to shoot.”
Oh good, more to worry about. I hadn’t even considered falling through the ceiling.
“Payne?”
“Hm?”
“Don’t take this personally, but your bedside manner sucks.”
He slides the window all the way open, and throws his leg over the frame. “You’ve never had any complaints.”
“Not that”—my words cut off as he winks and drops out the window—“kind of bed.”
Crap, he makes it look easy.
I take a deep breath and shoot out a quick prayer to whoever might be listening. Three… two… My fingers won’t let go of the window frame. Okay, for real this time. Three… two…
Back in the other room, a door rattles as someone tries to get in. The chair holds, but I don’t expect that to last.
One!
With a grace born of necessity not practice, I swing out a leg and lower myself down until I’m hanging from the ledge. Payne pats my leg, letting me know he’s there, and I let go. It’s only a few foot drop before he catches me and helps slow my fall to the roof.
“See, no problem,” he whispers in my ear.
Three shots explode somewhere inside, and I’m guessing the chair is no longer an issue. We look at each other and say it together, “Problem!”
He gives me a sharp nod. “Let’s go. Stay low and whatever you do, don’t stop.”
We take off across the roof. We’re on top of a connecting section between the offices and the main factory building and the ground looks awfully far down below us. I try not to think about that while I follow Payne.
Without pausing, he draws his gun and blows out the window opposite into the factory part. The Desert Eagle fires with the sound of a cannon. Glass explodes in a shower of glittering shards. If anyone wasn’t aware of what we were up to before, we’ve made it pretty damn obvious.
He tears off his coat and uses it to clear the sill of shards as well as possible. With snakelike reflexes, he aims and fires back towards the window we just jumped out of. “Move!”
The siding shatters in three places as bullets dig in only inches from my right elbow. Holyshitsholyshitholyshit.
I look quickly through the window to see what I’m landing on, and my stomach turns as I try to swallow down the tight lump that seems to want to sit right in my throat. The factory part of the building is one huge open room and it’s several stories down.
My first thought is that we’re screwed, then I spot a narrow metal walkway hanging from the ceiling. It’s still below us, but a lot closer than the floor. It looks like some sort of access path, and it’s not even solid metal. The floor is that kind of hatch pattern that you can see right through.
This is never going to work.
The siding splinters again, right next to my head this time, making me scream.
“Adorable, you’ve got to jump. We’re sitting ducks here.”
Easy for him to say. This drop is a hell of a lot farther than the last, and this time I don’t have Payne waiting to catch me.
And if I miss the walkway?
Let’s just say I’ll be saving the Mob a bullet.
There’s no time to sit and freak out about it. I draw a deep breath, trying not to think of what I’m about to do as suicide. Just like before, I throw out first one leg, and then the other, leaving myself hanging from the window sill.
“Let go,” Payne orders. A second later his gun barks, followed by a scream.
The longer I wait, the greater the chances he’s going to get hit, and the bigger a target I make of myself for anyone downstairs. Trusting my training, I relax my fingers and drop into the open air below.
39
Nora
Landing on the metal grating is nothing like landing on the roof with Payne’s help. I cushion as much of the impact as possible by keeping my legs soft and rolling along its length when I land, but it still knocks the air out of my lungs and my feet feel like someone took a hammer to them. The walkway rattles and sways, but seems like it’s going to hold. I swallow the spike of pain and nausea, getting out of the way so Payne can follow.
Almost immediately, he lands next to me in a crouch with a grunt. Blood stains his pants at his thigh, and he grits his teeth as he rights himself. Somehow he manages to keep that out of his voice, obviously for my benefit. “Good job. Up on your feet. This wasn’t exactly a stealthy entrance.”
I grab the rail to haul myself to my feet, but my palm slips. “Shit.” Payne grabs my hand and turns it over. There's a bloody gash that must’ve come from the broken window. It’s not deep, but plenty long. “No worries, just a flesh wound, right?” I joke.
Payne smiles and kisses the slash. “You’re a loony.”
He pulls me up by my wrist, with no time to lose. Running as fast as we can, we ignore the yells and occasional gunshots from below. There’s nothing we can do but keep moving. The walkway squeaks and groans, not really made for running for your life. The terrifying thought of the whole thing loosening from the ceiling and crashing down to the floor far below gives me wings. A bullet hits the metal with a bang right by my head, and I swear I actually understand what it means to have your heart jump into your throat.
Ahead of us, there’s some sort of giant machine, squatting over a large part of the factory floor and reaching almost as high as the ceiling. I have no idea what the dirty, steel-grey monstrosity was for, but today it sits there cold and dead. The walkway curves around behind its top, granting us a brief moment of much needed cover. A metal ladder leads down to the factory floor, but we might as well paint huge targets on ourselves if we go down that way.
We hunker down behind a large metal control panel. I can barely get air into my lungs, but Payne looks like he’s been out for an evening stroll. Well, an evening stroll through a really crappy neighborhood.
“So.” He runs his hand down his face, carefully testing his bloody nose with a wince. “Where should our next date be? Anything but Italian.”
Shocked, I burst out laughing. “How about something nice and peaceful? Vegetarian? No, vegan.”
“I don’t know. If they saw how much BBQ I can put away, they might shoot me too.”
“Fine, but whatever it is, I want flowers.”
He pats his pockets while he dares a look out onto the factory floor. A gunshot cracks from below, splintering a wooden beam overhead. He draws his head back quickly. “I can do flowers, but today you’ll have to settle for fireworks.”
“The explosions were pretty thoughtful,” I mumble while picking splinters out of my hair. “But the service here is terrible.”
Both of our heads snap towards movement below, but Payne reacts instantly. Move, aim, shoot. My ears are ringing before I even know what happened. An anguished yell betrays whoever was reckless enough to make a target of himself.
“Stay in cover, morons!” someo
ne yells.
“Look,” Payne puts a hand on my shoulder and waits until he has my full attention. “I know this isn’t exactly the best timing, but fuck it, there might not be a better time.”
I swallow and nod.
“I expected to have weeks to convince you to stay with me. Voluntarily, I mean.”
“While I was kidnapped?”
He shrugs and flashes me a boyish grin. “Relocated for your own protection, but essentially, yeah. Anyway, I might not get those weeks, so I’m asking now. If we get out of this, will you come with me?”
A thousand butterflies take off in my stomach. I sway forwards, wanting badly to lean in and kiss him.
Oh my God, self! Get a grip. Running for our lives here.
“If, and this is a really big if, we make it out of this, I’m a police officer, and you’re… you shoot people.”
“So do you,” he counters.
“It’s different!”
“You’re right, and that’s why I need you there, to keep reminding me.”
“I have a job here.”
Payne’s green eyes flash in annoyance. “Your job is trying to kill you.”
He has a point. There are other ways to make a difference.
“You’d have to change professions. You know that, right?”
“Done.” He puts his hand behind my neck and pulls me in for a kiss.
Someone should really be keeping a lookout, but for just a moment, the cold and fear retreat a little. Instead of pulling away, I press against him, the scent of his skin and a hint of cologne filling my senses. His lips taste like salt and coppery blood, but we’re alive, and I don’t want to waste the chance to prove it.
“I…” I have no idea what to say, and before I can even try, a bullet rips through the panel behind us, missing us by a matter of inches.
“Alright, we need to get moving.” He points down the wall, maybe twenty feet away at a door. “You're going out that way.”
Is he nuts? “They’ll pick me off before I’m halfway there.”
“Trust me. I’m going to distract them for a bit and catch up as soon as I can.” Another shot clips the corner of the panel.
“If anything happens to you, I’ll do something stupid.”
He stares at me, expression hard. “Don’t you dare.”
“I will, so you better not die. People say stuff like ‘I’ll catch up’ when they plan on getting eaten by the dragon, or they know the zombie army is right on the other side of the door.”
He grins. “Good to know you care, but I have a few tricks up my sleeve and I’m not feeling quite that noble. But I need you out of the way and safe.”
“Promise?” I arch an eyebrow.
His pinky snakes around mine, sealing the deal. “As soon as I tell you to move, you run like there really is a dragon, or a fucking zombie army. And if you hear something about grenades, just… don’t worry about it.”
Grenades? What the hell? My eyes must be wide as saucers, but I nod. “Okay.”
He lifts one hand, staring at my face as if he's trying to remember every little detail. Despite his words, the prick of tears stings the corners of my eyes. The odds are against us and we both know it.
“See you soon,” I whisper.
Payne bobs his head and points at the door, then starts a silent countdown with his fingers, mouthing the words. On one, he pops up and starts firing. “Go!”
I tuck my Glock into my pants and throw myself over the side onto the ladder, praying to every god out there that they’re lousy shots. A moment later, there’s a bang and the ladder rings with the impact. Alright, they’re not bad.
Scrambling down as fast as I can, I let go as soon as dare. After the last couple of landings, the drop is laughable. I yank my gun back out and make a break for it, sprinting like I’m going for the world record.
The door seems so impossibly far away.
40
Nora
A bullet slams into the wall right behind me, motivating my burning legs to move faster than any stopwatch or whistle ever could in training. All of me hurts, physically, mentally and emotionally, but my only choices are to push forward, or give up.
Giving up isn’t an option.
Tears leak from the corners of my eyes, blurring my vision and pissing me off. I don’t have time to cry. Stupid body.
“Fire in the hole!” Payne shouts, his voice carrying from above.
Something metallic falls nearby. There’s a hollow ring like it landed in a metal barrel, then a rattling noise before it stops rolling. I have no idea where it is, but it can’t be far.
I push harder. His yell must’ve freaked everyone else out as much as me, because for a short time the bullets stop. A second clank follows the first, giving me just enough time to reach the door.
It’s locked. My shoulder bounces off and I whimper in panic. Nothing has exploded yet, so I’m betting he’s just throwing shit, and it won’t be long before everyone else figures that out too.
Raising my Glock, I fire two quick shots at the lock and kick the door hard enough to feel the jolt through my entire body. It pops open, and I dive through to the sound of a gunshot followed by a grunt of pain.
It’s not him. It’s not him, I chant in my head, only half believing my own words.
Thinking fast, I look frantically around the small room that look like it was once used for lunch breaks. A metal shelving unit stands next to the door, looking heavy. I grab its side and throw all of my weight into pulling it over. After a couple tries, it comes down with a crash, spilling plastic silverware and dusty boxes everywhere, but effectively blocking the door. It’s not perfect, but with the lock shot off, it’ll at least slow them down.
A darkened vending machine stands on the far wall, taunting me with the promise of something to drink. Schrödinger’s Soda. It may or may not exist, but in this case, wasting time finding out would definitely lead to a dead cat—er—Nora.
I won’t die without a drink, but I will without a way out.
With no idea whether I’m running to safety or into more trouble, I charge through the only other door available. It slams open easily, putting me in a hallway. The cold air is stale with disuse, and workshops line the sides. My chest aches, and now that the adrenaline’s starting to wear off, it’s getting harder to keep moving.
Another door, another hallway, and then a loading dock. The garage doors on the far wall are big enough to let in a semi. A sliver of hope raises its weary head at the sight of an exit. Now I just need to figure out how to use it.
Next to the doors are buttons, red on the bottom, green on top. I slap them all but nothing happens. Of course there’s no power. That would, after all, be helpful.
The muted sound of distant gunshots reaches me. How much ammo does Payne have left? Not nearly enough for an extended shootout. Those tears I fought back are pressing their way to the surface again.
My instinct is to run back and help, but with only a few shots left myself, what can I do? If I get out, maybe I can get hold of help, so I search for another door. There has to be a way out other than the huge garage ports.
“Leaving already, Officer Keaton?”
I whirl around, bringing my gun to bear. Not twenty feet away, Palmieri stands straight, his gun aimed right between my eyes. There’s a split second where I know I should take advantage of his smug gloating and shoot first, but I can’t do it. There’s too much of the honest cop left in me.
“Just let me leave. You’re right, nobody would take my word over yours. If you let me go, I won’t dispute anything.”
He laughs drily, obviously not buying it. “You know, I’d love to believe you. But it’s too big of a risk. You are your father’s daughter, after all.” Palmieri says it like an accusation, but I can’t think of any higher praise at the moment.
“You were ready to let me go earlier.”
“And you actually believed that? You’re more likely to cooperate if you think there’s hope.” He
sneers.
My gut sinks like a stone. “So shoot me then. What are you waiting for?”
He cocks his gun and stares at me, a slight tremor giving away his internal struggle. A massive explosion from the direction of the factory distracts us both, but doesn’t end the standoff.
“And there went your boyfriend,” he says with a smirk.
I’m not going to believe it until I see it for myself, but for every second that passes, I get a little closer to having nothing left to lose. Whether or not I make it out alive is starting to feel less important than making sure Palmieri doesn’t.
“It’s only a matter of time before this place is crawling with officers.” Truthfully, I don’t understand why it isn’t already. No matter where we are, I can’t think of anywhere near the city where stuff can just start exploding and not raise at least a few emergency calls.
“Ah, well. The whole place is scheduled for destruction as of this morning. It’ll be a shame to lose but at this point it can’t be helped. As delightful as this little chat has been, I’m afraid we’re in a bit of a hurry now.”
I see it in his face and the shift of his stance. Whatever scrap of humanity has been holding him back has frayed beyond repair. Preparing to shoot, I pray that Payne somehow makes it out of this mess, and that my parents are able to recover from whatever lies they spin around my very probable death.
A gun fires, and it’s not mine.
Too slow.
I wait for the pain, but nothing happens. In front of me, Palmieri still stands, arms raised. Except in place of his cold, traitorous face is a bloody, gaping hole. He crumples, his body falling to the floor in a heap like a marionette with its strings suddenly severed.
Shock holds me still. I’d been ready to die. The plan is over and there is no next step.
“Nora!” Someone embraces me, pressing my trembling arms down and prying my gun from my lifeless hands.
The world snaps back into focus as my weapon is taken away. “No!”
“Shhhhh. It’s okay.”
