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Say what you like about perfect headshots but it’s hard to beat a crowd of frantic shooters.
If they fired a hundred shots, odds were good at least one would find their mark.
I took the hint and left the rifle where it was.
I ran toward the back of the hangar for a door I knew had to be there.
I was relieved to find I was right.
I kicked it open and immediately slammed my back against the wall.
If someone was going to get the drop on me, it would be from here.
I would be facing an enemy on two fronts and chances were they would pin me down.
That would be the smart thing to do.
But were these things smart?
The jury was still out on that one.
They knew what they were doing with their merchant business, that was for sure.
They needed to be good at hiding to survive for this long beneath the prison guards’ noses without them knowing they existed.
But that didn’t translate to being good at fighting.
When no shots fired from the other side of the door, I knew I at least had a chance of getting out of there.
I eased the door open with the tip of my rifle and peered around it.
The stairs were on the left and the slaves I saw earlier huddled in a corner.
Their chains clinked as they raised their arms over their heads in surrender.
They made low moaning sounds of pure dread.
If they weren’t so far gone, so helpless, I might have released them of their chains and encouraged them to fight their captors.
They were too far gone for that.
They were as likely to attack me as they were their enemy.
I hastened up the broad stairs three, four at a time.
They belonged in a palace more than a ramshackle vehicle such as this.
I didn’t stop until I reached the top.
I checked over my shoulders and found no one pursuing me.
At least, not yet.
I approached a wide arch of a doorway.
On the other side, I spied a pair of figures.
The bracelets hanging from their thin wrists caught the suns’ glare and winked at me.
