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The last two knife-carrying crazies ran toward me. At the same time, Stellan threw one of the men off him, and he slammed onto his back, his knife still gripped in his hand. Without hesitating, I shot him. He let out a scream, and I realized with disappointment I’d only hit his shoulder.
Two dead, one wounded, three still fully in play.
And one of them was almost on top of me. She looked like a middle-management type with her dark bob, but she wore the white robes and a crazed expression on her face. The cultists were convinced that only by coming close to death could they truly experience life.
She slashed me, managing to cut my outstretched forearm before I was able to bring the sights to her. I squeezed the trigger and she fell back, her chest exploding. Gore splattered over me at such close quarters.
“I hope that’s the epiphany you were hoping for,” Itaunted, and she lurched toward me and I fired again. She fell back and stopped moving.
Seven shots, right? Had I counted right? I wasn’t sure if Stellan had fired more rounds when I looked away, focused on the victim.
“Traitor,” the cult member near me accused. She slashed at me, and I pulled the trigger and… nothing. I’d miscounted. I’d lost track of a round.
Now the gun was nothing but a fancy club.
I threw it at her and went to pull my knife.
But while I was still getting it out of my pocket, she fell onto Stellan’s back. She and the last man drove Stellan into the wall, trying to stab him. He held the man’s wrist with the blade away from him and delivered a few sharp, punishing punches to the man’s side. Pulling the knife free, I then grabbed her and threw her off Stellan, before moving to stab her.
Stellan finally put down the man who had attacked him, punching him over and over, the sounds increasingly wet as Stellan lost himself to his rage.
The woman slashed back at me, the two of us circling each other, stepping carefully over the bodies, trying to find an angle.
The wounded man stabbed my leg. I let out a gasp of pain as the knife pierced through my calf, and I stumbled.
The woman lunged at me and shoved me into the wall. She raised the knife to drive it home.
Stellan was there, grabbing her wrist, yanking her away from me. He slammed her into the wall, his hand wrapping her throat.
She stabbed him, driving the knife into his abs. He winced and his fingers tightened on her throat. He dragged the blade out of his stomach and drove it into hers instead. She let out a gasp, then went limp.
He let her fall.
I dared to exhale. We’d killed five. Now to finish the wounded one.
I turned to find him as movement caught my attention.
The wounded man had crawled to the woman with the bound hands—and drove the knife into her side. The woman screamed and so did I.
Her blood spilled across the slick basement floor.
I ran to her, trying to find something to staunch her bleeding until we could get emergency help. She was dying, though. Fast.
“It’s going to be alright,” I lied. I pressed the wound, trying to keep her from losing any more blood. Over my shoulder, I called, “Stellan? You okay?”
“Never better,” he said through gritted teeth. “I really, really hate your father’s friends.”
“Same.”
Footsteps on the stairs.Fuck.
“And now there are about to be more of them.”
The crazies had reinforcements.
Chapter15
Remington
