Page 8 of The Deadly Shallows

Ira Stiller Hall was perched at the top of the hill they’d just raced up. Noah signaled his team to lay low as he scanned the area, determining how to position his crew. The special-response team wasn’t on-site yet, but with gunfire continuing in bursts, they couldn’t wait.

He lifted his fist, immediately halting his team.

Please, Lord, let Brooke and Austin be okay. I know that’s a selfish prayer. I do pray for everyone there, but please, let them be okay.

Another burst of gunfire.

They were well armed. But were they trained?

He signaled for Rissi and Logan to head around the south side of the building, Finn and Mason around the north, and Caleb to enter the front with him.

“Noah.” Deacon Stiles, head of SRT, spoke over Noah’s earpiece. “ETA three minutes.”

“Roger that. Six CGIS agents in labeled vests entering now.”

“Roger that,” Deacon said.

Noah pressed his back against the outer brick wall, flanking the glass front doors. Caleb held position on the other side.

He pumped deep breaths in and out. M4 in hand, he dipped his chin at Caleb, who nodded his readiness.

Following a quick heartfelt prayer for his team’s safety, Noah gave them the go-ahead.

He opened the front door, Caleb covering him. No one was between the exterior and interior doors. With two fingers, Noah signaled for Caleb to take the right side of the double doors. Both eased their gaze up to the porthole windows. Noah’s body grew taut at the scene of chaos before them. People wailed and scrambled for cover as bullets riddled out in bursts. Why bursts?

Two shooters, in gray-and-white fatigues and ski masks, stood twenty-feet ahead—their backs to them.

Noah signaled One, two, three. Opening the doors just enough to slide his muzzle in, he fixed his aim at the base of the shooter’s head. On a slow release of air, he squeezed the trigger. The shooter on the left dropped. In near synchronicity, Caleb fired, and the shooter on the right landed limp on the floor.

Noah signaled forward, and they entered the hall.

Both men were dead.

Two more shooters dropped at the back of the auditorium.

“Two shooters down,” Rissi said over comms.

“Good job. Any more shooters?” he asked, as he and Caleb kept their backs to the wall, their eyes scanning the room, at the ready if any more appeared.

He signaled for Caleb to keep watch on the doors and room as a whole, while he started to scan the ground in case the cowards were trying to hide within the crowd of wounded and dead.

“Not within sight,” Rissi’s voice echoed the question in his mind. Were there more out of their line of sight?

Noah’s gaze moved toward the podium and locked on Brooke behind it, her hand and blouse covered with blood. His heart raced. Was she hit?

His gaze shifted down to her friend Molly bleeding out, Austin applying pressure as Brooke cried. She spoke to Molly, no doubt trying to keep her conscious until shock trauma arrived.

His heart broke for Molly, but at the same time, gratitude filled him that Brooke was okay. He yearned to run to her, to take her in his arms, but he had to help clear the rest of the building.

“I’ll clear the lobby and front stairwells,” Noah said over the comms. “Caleb, take the hallway to the right. Rissi, hallway to the left. Mason, check the back stairwell. Finn and Logan, hold the rear of the hall.”

Everyone acknowledged in turn.

Noah moved back into the lobby. The echo of footfalls resounded behind him.

Turning, he caught sight of a shooter moving up the west stairwell. “Freeze!”

To his shock, the shooter stilled. One more step, and he would have rounded the corner.