by DJ Dalasta
The standoff was going on its third hour. Michael pressed his back up against the wall and slid down to a sitting position. He wiped the sweat from his brow but kept his eyes trained on a small jagged section of mirror placed along the carpet. From his position he could see the door without putting himself in harm’s way. And for the moment, everything was still.
He knew his situation wasn’t ideal. They could hold him down for hours at a time with just two individuals while the others rested and refreshed themselves. He didn’t have such luxuries being alone. He did have the option of trying an escape through a small hidden door in the bedroom, but his attackers also knew of its existence and he figured they’d have someone waiting for him at the bottom. For the time, it appeared his only way out was through the front.
“Michael,” one of them called in. “This has gone on for too long. Just throw out your weapons and slowly come through the door. There’s no need to make a stand.”
Michael smirked. “You know as well as I that I’m as good as dead if I come out, at least here I have a small chance.”
“You cannot take us all out at once,” the man called back in. “And at some point you’ll have to eat and sleep. A couple days and that’s all you have. We can hang here all week.”
Michael started thinking. Take them all out at once. What did he have to take them all out at a single time? “Oh please have left it behind,” he mumbled to himself. He shuffled silently to Malcolm’s room and ran to his nightstand. The drawer slid open and his brother’s favorite fear tool, a concussion grenade, was tucked carefully into the corner. He grabbed it and started back to the front.
He stepped out the door and a shot fired through the hallway, ringing by his ear. He dove back into Malcolm’s room. He rolled from his side and stuck his gun out the door and fired blindly down the hall. Michael sprung to his feet, smashed the butt of his gun into the bedroom mirror and snatched a large piece from the floor. “Damn it,” he said to himself. He was being pinned into a corner.
He held the piece out and tilted it at a slight angle. The reflection revealed a total of three men. They positioned themselves behind various obstacles. Even with time to aim, he’d be hard pressed to hit any of them with a kill shot. But they were close enough together for the grenade to work. He firmly held it in his hand. It was his best chance.
He took one last look to make sure they were still close in proximity. He pulled the clip. One. He tossed the grenade into the other room. Two. He dove backwards onto Malcolm’s bed. Three. He rolled over to the other side and fell down next to the wall. Four.
The place lit up followed by a rumble that shook the apartment. Michael immediately leapt from the cover of the bed and stormed into the other room. Smoke filled the hallway but he waved through it and spotted three bodies on the ground. Nobody was moving. Blood leaked from their ears, spilling in small streams. Michael fired one bullet into each of them. The bodies pulsed with the impact.
He quickly returned down the hall. He threw a duffel bag on the bed and started gathering some clothes, weapons and two laptop computers. In one minute he was heading back to the front. Before he walked out the door, he turned on the gas burners and set flame to the apartment. Michael bounded down the stairs and slipped outside. He scurried around the building coming up on the second exit. He peeked around the corner and just as he thought, one man waited with gun drawn.
He stepped out, took aim and shot one bullet directly into the man’s head. Michael harnessed his gun and walked down the alleyway. Behind him, the apartment exploded.
Chapter 26
Miami, August 2012
