Page 70 of Fight or Flight
I’m in. Sorry for the delay. Distract them so I can go in unnoticed.
I eye the two guys standing by the two large windows in the living room and then notice a third guy walking down the corridor.
Okay, what’s the best way to distract them? I look into a room that looks like some kind of reading room and notice an open book on a desk and, right next to it, a pack of cigarettes with an ashtray. Bingo!
I check one more time to see if I’m alone and then walk into the room to grab a cigarette and look for a lighter to spark it up. Then I set the first pages of the book on fire and quickly stage everything so it looks like it was the cigarette that caused it. Maybe it’s not the smartest idea, but I hope a fire going on in one of the rooms will allow Brody enough time to check the basement.
Just as I sneak out of there, the fire alarm starts blaring in the whole house, and I slip into a closed room two doors down when I hear footsteps and then some yelling, “Bring some fucking water in here!”
“What about the extinguisher?” A voice calls back.
“Fuck the extinguisher! You want to be the one to destroy the boss’s precious books with that shit?”
My phone vibrates with a message.
Good job. Wait for me upstairs, close to the exit.
I stick my head back into the corridor and see the group of men gathered by the reading room, all looking displeased but, to my relief, paying no mind to anything else.
My steps are slow and measured as I back away from the corridor, but my phone vibrates again.
We’ve got a problem. Come downstairs NOW.
I change directions and slip onto the staircase with my heart in my throat. Something must’ve gone wrong. That wasn’t the plan.
My shoes squeak loudly on the steps, and I cringe, but when nothing happens for ten seconds, I continue down the stairs. I go quickly through the labyrinth of corridors, trying every door I pass until I spot the open one. Dimmed light coming from it, as well as sounds of someone struggling with something.
I get in, and the image of what I find there will surely be imprinted in my memory, only to become a visitor in my darkest, most terrifying nightmares for years to come.
Brody kneels over Claire’s lifeless, pale body, his hands posed on her chest as he presses it to the rhythm and counts quietly.
I stand there like hypnotized, my brain unable to process the thought of what’s taking place until Brody notices me.
“Fuck, man. They’ll be coming soon. Do you know how to do CPR?”
“N-no.” I stammer, unashamed by the tears blurring my vision. “C-Claire. What?”
I make a step further into the room and right away stop, unable to come any closer.
Brody continues to press on her chest, only pausing to extract his gun from the back of his pants, and passes it to me. It slides on the floor and lands at my feet.
“This is my gun. It’s registered in my name. Whatever you do, don’t leave prints on it, you hear me?”
“I...” I frown at him, not knowing what he means. What does he want me to do?
“I already called for help. The ambulance and the police are on their way. Hopefully, they’re going to be here before the goons come running, but if not, you need to shoot anyone who gets close. Don’t kill them. Just immobilize or something. And whatever you do. Don’t leave your fingerprints on the gun.”
I have trouble following his words, my eyes going back to Claire’s pale face, and I gulp.
“Aidan!” Brody roars. “Get it together. She will make it. I promise. But you need to watch my back.”
Blinking furiously, I take off my suit jacket and rip it apart from the sleeve with strength I didn’t even know I possessed before I pick up the gun with the piece of fabric. It’s not ideal, but it will have to do.
I hear Brody say, “We’ve got a pulse!” Just as one of the men in the dark corridor notices me standing there.
“Hey, man! What are you doin’ here? It turned out we’ve got a breach...” he stops when he sees the gun pointed at him, and immediately, his hand goes to the holster on his hip.
“Don’t move!” I command. “Let us out of here, and nothing bad will happen.”