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With my cheeks still puffing in and out, I moved towards the stairs. The hallway clearly didn’t have any further offices, so I crept upwards, trying to remain quiet. Between looking down to make sure I didn’t kick anything and looking up to check nobodywas there, I was a wreck. As I popped my head up, I heard laughter coming from a room near me. A second quick check clued me into three men sitting around a table playing cards.
They were between me and the rest of the floor, including the dead man, that counted for four of the possible eleven men. Only one in the room was facing me. I had a choice. I could shoot them or try to get past them.
I considered the shadows, and if I stayed low, I should be able to make it without being spotted.
I waited until the guy facing me ducked his head to check his cards, and I tiptoed past the door. I was as stiff as a board, waiting for a shout or someone’s hand to land on my shoulder, but I made it to the next room and then the third before slipping inside and sinking to my ass.
I was shaking heavily, but I’d got this far. My breathing was shaky, so I allowed myself a few minutes to calm down and listen for activity.
I placed the gun down on the floor, stretched out my shaking fingers, and clenched them again to try to get some steadiness. Finally, realising this wasn’t going to work, I closed my eyes and did some quiet, deep breathing exercises. The minutes ticked by, and I knew someone should be here soon. That thought comforted me.
Briefly, I considered taking my shoes off and searching in my stockinged feet, but if I stepped on something, I could leave a blood trail. The fact was, I would just have to be super quiet. I rose to my feet again and peeked out of the door. The game a couple of doors down was getting rowdy, but nobody seemed aware of my presence.
With one deep breath and ignoring the fear that could paralyse me, I moved out, keeping my gun loose at my side. I noticed bootprints in the thick dust and debris and made sure tostep within them. They would hide my own prints. It was rather clever of me, I thought.
I checked the offices and found nothing, and I was about to begin to panic when I spied another set of stairs. As I approached, I heard the clump of heavy boots above me, and I moved swiftly into an office and searched for a hiding space. The good and bad thing about the offices on this floor was they had low brick walls, and the rest of the office was made of glass. It meant I could see straight across to the opposite side, but it also left me wide open. I moved through into another office and ducked behind the wall, curling into a ball.
Several male voices caught my attention, and I guessed at least four men were walking towards me. I held my gun at the entrance, but the men kept going, arguing amongst themselves. It made me sick beyond belief to hear they were fighting over who’d get to rape Irish first. Bastards. With those four and the four already accounted for, that meant roughly three men were upstairs.
I was nearly out of time. My gut told me so. Without a second thought and not letting doubts or fear stop me, I moved forward. Keeping my back to the wall and my gun out in front, I tiptoed up the stairs. I could hear voices now; there were at least two men.
“Sooner or later, that bitch is going to scream,” one said.
“Yeah, she’ll fuckin’ cry when she sees my cock.”
“Dude, she won’t know what hit her,” the first said, chortling.
Just as I reached the top of the stairs, movement made me jump, and I came face to face with a wild-eyed man. He stared at me, surprised, and then a wicked glint lit his eyes.
He grinned and reached for me just as he opened his mouth to call out.
On instinct, I raised my gun, took an approximate aim, and fired, thanking God I’d used the silencer. Even so, there was stilla soft ‘whuff’ noise, and my bullet took him straight through his mouth.
His eyes met mine as he fell backwards, and I couldn’t stop myself from heaving.
“What was that?” one of the guys demanded.
Tears threatened to spill as I tried not to puke everywhere.
“Probably Scarface, he’s patrolling,” the other replied.
“He’s such a sour prick.”
“Yeah, I get that. Hey, bitch, not looking so confident now, are you?”
I lifted my head. Irish was close. This wasn’t the time to falter.
Before I could let my doubts cripple me, I stepped over the body and headed in the direction of the voice.
As I approached an office on the far side, I saw the silhouettes of two men, and I crouched low and scurried along. As I dropped, I caught the sharp gaze of Irish, who didn’t give me away. I bet she wondered what the hell I was doing there.
I reached the doorway, took several calming breaths, and then popped up. I fired four times, twice into each man. They fell with a crash.
“Get me free now. That would have alerted the others. He has a knife on him,” Irish spoke urgently. She nodded towards one of the men.
“Dana, they are dead. Move your ass,” Irish urged, and I shook myself and moved forward. Distastefully, I searched the man she’d nodded to, and I discovered a knife in his waistband. I turned to Irish and saw my dilemma. She was hanging from an overhead pipe, and her legs were swinging free. Irish had to be in pain, as all the weight was on her arms. The problem was that meant I couldn’t reach her wrists, which had been tied.
“There’s a table there. Drag it over and climb on it. They’ll be here within moments,” Irish said.
