Page 6 of Until the End

Bravo and the other man moved out of her sight.

She slipped into the hall, glancing over her shoulder, and hurried toward the exit. Blood pounded in her ears as she zipped past the break room. The door was almost within reach.

Looking back again, she was nearly breathless with dread. Her stomach was a block of ice, but she kept going.

At the door, she pressed the bar handle down gradually, her hands, arms, entire body quaking with the effort. Desperation made her ache to burst across the threshold, but she had to be careful not to make any noise. With a soft click, she cracked the door open and glanced back.

No one was coming.

She ducked into the stairwell. As she let the door close gently, there was the distinct clap of two more gunshots. Something inside her shattered.

They were all dead. Massacred.

Tears hazed her vision, but she beat down the raging sorrow.

She ran to the stairs. Keeping her heels from touching the steps, she descended in silence. She pushed herself to hurry, faster and faster, trying not send her pulse soaring into triple time.

Her legs shook, knees turning to water as if they might buckle.

Kit risked a glance at the door behind her and lost her footing. Her ankle twisted, throwing off her balance.

In a whoosh, she slid down the steps. Her grip on the handrail was gone.

Pain blasted in her tailbone and head in the startling descent. She bit her lip, silencing the scream tearing up her chest as flesh and bone crashed against galvanized steel.

She snagged the railing and jerked to a halt near the bottom floor.

Oh God, had they heard? The noise had been earsplitting. Her gaze shot up to the door.

Terror held her captive, paralyzing her.

Move. You have to move!

Struggling to control her breathing, she used the railing to hoist herself up. Agony pounded everywhere. She stumbled down the last two steps and out the door.

Kit’s chest tightened, like a fist had seized her heart. Breath was snatched from her lungs. She staggered through the side alley and dug in her satchel for her meds.

Peeling open the Ziploc, she fumbled for her propranolol. White light dappled her eyesight, and she grew dizzy. She leaned against the overflowing dumpster behind the Grill.

She popped open the tan bottle and shook a pill into her palm. Crushing pain flared in her chest and her legs locked. She fell into the ripe pile of bagged garbage tucked in the corner pocket between the side of the dumpster and back of the restaurant. Throwing the small white pill under her tongue, she rested against the rancid mound of rubbish and battled for air.

On the other side of the dumpster, a door squeaked open. Metal slammed against brick. Footsteps pounded into the alley and down toward First Street.

The razor-like shards spearing her breastbone lightened. The tightness eased as the medication started to take effect, dilating her coronary arteries.

Heavy footsteps echoed again, coming back toward the alley.

She rolled onto her side and hauled bags of trash on top of herself. The footfalls drew closer. She curled into a ball, the smallest fetal position.

The footfalls stopped near the dumpster. She squeezed her lips together until her jaw hurt, channeling every shred of willpower not to move. Only taking the shallowest breaths, she was petrified to disturb the bags concealing her.

The man stepped around the dumpster, shoes striking the pavement with a dull clunk.

Foul air pressed in. Cool, gelatinous liquid trickled over her leg, tickling and taunting. But she stayed still as stone.

He kicked the dumpster. The ting of metal vibrated through her. Then the scuffle of shoes moved away. Footsteps thudded down the narrow alley. Quick. Heavy. The sound grew fainter.

Kit waited, listening for nearby movement. Each terrifying second ticked through her. Finally, she knocked the reeking bags off her and palmed her way up the wall.