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I try to take the extinguisher from her hands, but she tightens her grip and turns away from me.
“No!”she objects. “Go! Run!”
She throws her head overhershoulder once more and tries to runinthe other direction—but I manage to hold her back by grabbing her upper arm. A futile attempt to free herself of my hold follows, and I answer by pulling her closer to me, close enough to see the frown on her face.
“There is no fire! We sh—”
“How would you know?!”she barks at me, still trying to get away. “Let go of me! I have to—”
“You have to get out of here, trust me!” I cut her off, my voice painfully loud in my own ears. “Come with me!”
The deafening sounds of other people screaming is accompanied by constant bumps from all sides as they run into us on their way out—and they’re all running in the same direction, simplifying the task of figuring out where the main exit should be.
I try to follow the stream of panicking people, but she refuses to follow, seemingly throwing her entire body weight in the opposite direction when I pull her with me.
Furious at her stubbornness, I turn around with the intention to tear that stupid fire extinguisher from her hands and gather her up in my arms—but she stops me in my tracks when she screams: “Not this way! Come!”
Baffled, I let go of her arm and follow right behind when she takes off in the opposite direction—taking the useless extinguisher with her. The dark smoke threatens to swallow her, but just as I worry that she might disappear from my view, the fog begins to clear up. Still, there’s not enough light to see where exactly we’re going and I run right into her when she stops in front of a door that appeared out of nowhere.
“Hold this,” she utters, pushing the extinguisher against my chest with a violent thrust. The blow is strong enough to take my breath away, but I manage to grab the damn thing before it can drop on my feet.
I feel like an idiot, standing right behind her with that redundant tool in my arms while she fiddles with the door lock.
“Dammit, why isn’t this—”
I mute her curses by pushing her to the side, finally making good use of the extinguisher as I ram it against the door with full force. Luckily, the door swings open at my second try.
I throw the fire extinguisher to the ground and grab her wrist, forcing her to follow me even though I have no idea where we’re going. We find ourselves in a narrow hallway, illuminated with just a few tiny bulbs along the walls.
“To the right!”she exclaims behind me, followed by a little push against my back.
I start running, pulling her with me. She tries to squirm away from me, but I don’t let go of her wrist, worried that she might turn around and try to kill a fire that doesn’t exist.
“The door! There!”she pants behind me, and a moment later I spot a black door emerging on the right side.
Much to my surprise, it’s not locked and swings right open when I turn the knob and throw myself against the cold steel a little too violently. Surprised, I stumble outside, greeted by a cold breeze and fresh air. Dragging her with me, I put some distance between us and the building, before I come to a halt on what appears to be an empty parking lot.
Almost empty.
A noise from the left claims my attention. Steps, followed by the sound of something metallic falling to the ground. I turn around just in time to see a dark figure running away across the asphalt, arms flying wildly and steps wide enough for two as he tries to get away from us as fast as possible. I reckon it’s a he, albeit a rather short and skinny guy, based on the broad shoulders and the military buzz cut.
“What the hell?”the girl whispers next to me, throwing me a quizzical look when I turn around.
I shrug in response, deciding that there’s no point in running after him—especially if it means leaving her behind.
Instead, I focus on the object he dropped before taking off. I find it a few feet away, still rolling on the ground, and even before I close in on it, I have a vague idea about what it could be.
She follows right behind me when I move closer to it, neither of us saying a word as I go down on my knees, careful not to leave any fingerprints when I nudge the can so it rolls on its side.
And my breath hikes.
The green can turns out to be a smoke grenade, just as I suspected. But it’s not just any kind. It’s a M18 grenade, military grade—and one I am all too familiar with.
Not many people have access to this kind of grenade—but I know some people who do.
In fact, I know them very, very well.
Chapter 6
