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“I see. We haven’t been updated on that yet.” This officer, whose name tag says Gips, looks unconvinced, but doesn’t hold us up further.
My pulse feels like it might crush my windpipe as we share a relieved but worried look, running up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. Through the small window in the third floor door, we can see that the lights have been shut off, some faint daylight offering enough visibility, but no cover.
Crouching low, the three of us make our way across an area filled with cubicles. Johnson’s office is easily identifiable by the two armed guards.
“They seem to be the only two out here, but once we take them out, it’s going to draw attention.” And who knows how many people Johnson has with him in that office.
Luis gestures to Jackson. “Rami’s handgun has a silencer attached. Jackson, you’re the best shot. Just picture yourself back at the cabin shooting oil cans with Six. Take them out, one shot each, and then we wait for thirty seconds to see if anyone notices. If anyone comes out to check, shoot first, ask questions later, then rush the door.”
Jackson looks anxious, his eyes staring ahead of him blankly. But he nods, however shakily, taking a steady breath. I can only imagine the stress of knowing you might be about to run towards gunfire again.
Pulling my stolen weapon around to hold at the ready, I reach out and grab Jackson’s head, pulling his forehead against mine. “We’ll be ready to cover if you miss or if anything happens. We got this together, man.”
Luis nods, slapping us both on the shoulders. “Now quit making out and let’s go get our girl.”
Jackson moves around the cubicle so he has a clearer shot. Squatting low, he takes a deep breath in, and then on the exhale, stands and fires off two rounds.
The guards collapse, one taking a bullet to the throat, the other a perfect bullseye to the middle of the forehead. Eyes wide, Jackson nods back to us. He did it.
Within seconds, the door opens and chaos breaks out. Two more guards stick their heads out the door to check what happened, then three more come out with their guns raised. The five guards pause, looking around the perimeter for who shot their fellows.
Luis holds up three fingers, moving each one as he counts down. When he gets to ‘one,’ the three of us stand and open fire. The guards fire off a few of their own shots instinctively, but they only hit the cubicle walls around us.
Seven guards now lay piled at the entrance to what we’re assuming is Johnson’s office, their bodies holding the door open. No more guards come through, but if there are any left, they’re probably smart enough to figure out the trap.
Eyes focused on the inside of that room, we move closer. Luis steps in first, aiming his weapon in front of him just in case, but no more shots are fired. Instead, he holds his hands up in the air before reaching with one hand to pull the strap over his head and drop the gun on the ground.
“Both of the others, in here, now!” A deep voice with a thick southern accent beckons us inside the office.
As we are entering, Jackson pauses and kneels to the ground before coming in after me. When we come through the door, we line up next to Luis. Jackson, for whatever reason, has picked up one of the weapons from the guards outside the doorway.
The moment we step through the threshold, my eyes automatically land on Six. Johnson is holding her unconscious form up, shielding his own body and holding a knife or large scalpel to her throat. There are tiny cuts where the sharp instrument has touched her skin, blood smeared down her neck. The sight of it lights a fire inside me. This man is dead already.
When we make a show of placing our weapons down and then holding our hands up high, I realize what Jackson has done. The bulge of the handgun is only just noticeable from my angle when Johnson makes us turn in a circle to check for any other obvious weapons.
Johnson eyes us like he would a filthy mongrel of a dog—with disgust, but also fear. “It’s not too surprising that a few of you were stupid enough to bust in here, but I have to admit, I’m impressed you got this far.”
“We just came for the girl. We overheard Bennet is working on getting you safe passage out of here, but she stays with us.” I lower one of my hands to reach out, as if I’d get lucky enough that he’d pass her to me.
“Now what kind of father would I be if I let my precious Progeny run off with…how many of you are there? Five? How does that even work? Do you all take turns on a schedule, or is it just a free for all?”
Johnson shakes his head as if to clear it. “Never mind, I don’t actually care what you do to her, but currently she’s my insurance policy. If Bennet is a good boy and makes sure I get out of here free and easy like, you might get to see her in a month or so when I can assure my safety.”
“You are nuts if you think he’s going to agree to that. Who knows what you’d do to her in the meantime?”
“Micah, is it? You wound me. I’m not a savage.”
“Look at what you’ve done to her. She’s pale as a ghost and unconscious.”
“A simple blood donation. She’ll recover.”
Jackson chooses this moment to chime in, taking a step forward and positioning himself in front of me and Luis. “Wasn’t it you that signed an order to have two guards sneak into her room at night, intending to rape her?”
Johnson scoffs. “A training exercise. I knew she could defend herself. Even if she didn’t, she’d heal. Besides, as luck would have it, she apparently likes to get gang banged.”
Luis’ posture stiffens. Jackson’s ears turn red. A burning hot rage flushes through my body. I can feel it from the tips of my toes to the follicles of my hair.
If I could just get a better angle to get a good shot, I could make Jackson’s unspoken plan work. My fingers itch to pull that gun out of the back of his vest and shoot Johnson in the balls, but I don’t have a shot.
