Gray Night (35 page)

 I took the shot I knew I wouldn’t get again and fired twice at the far shadow in front of the door by the stairs. He dropped dead.

 “Holy shit!” the guy right in front of me screamed as he jumped back into the next room.

 I ran forward, double skipping on my right leg to keep the weight off my left hip, and charged through the back doorway.

 “Now!” he screamed. He was straight ahead. I raised my gun again, steadied myself—

 “Do it n—” and emptied the magazine into him.

 I saw him in the strobing muzzle flashes go down in a room filled with stainless steel.

 Who had he yelled—I threw myself back as a roaring mass charged me. He missed his tackle, but clipped my wounded hip with his shoulder. I grunted in pain and staggered as he crashed into the next table.

 I couldn’t see a thing, but I heard the man struggling to stand below me. I had to take him down fast. It hurt like hell, but I rained heavy kicks down into him with no idea where they were landing, and not caring either. The second the man’s hands and arms stopped flailing I rolled my gun around in my hand and grabbed it by the barrel. I swung down hard in the general vicinity of his head until all was quiet and still.

 Except, breathing. Maybe even something, or somethings, moving around. The silence in between was filled with the overwhelming sense of someone staring at me. The feeling of another presence.

 My headache grew worse and my eyes ached. I couldn’t feel my left leg and that was really, really not good now. That needed to move up on my list of priorities. Except there was something left in the room with me. One more. I could deal with one more. Not that I had any other choice.

 
You could leave.

 Shut up. You can leave. I’m staying. Damn it! Focus!

 I readjusted my grip on the barrel of the .45 and the lights in the big room behind me came on in a sickly green haze. The man that had run off upstairs walked right through the open doorway between us raising his—oh what the hell was that? A P90 submachine gun? Are you freaking kidding me!

 The light from that room filled part of this one, casting strange shadows deeper in. Some of those shadows moved. Three shadows, in fact. Three!

 “Ahh, come on!” I yelled.

* * * *

 Gunfire rumbled through the small stainless steel room from time to time. It frightened me, but in a much more sane way than the fear before. Crazy as it sounded I found a tiny comfort in it.

 Laying facedown, while horrifying when Roman was in the room, was another source of comfort. Not a great one, but I felt less exposed, less vulnerable. Which, of course, was ridiculous because I was still chained down naked and couldn’t move, but it was enough to keep my mind from breaking and swallowing my own tongue in fear and madness.

 I wondered who was out there. Was it one person? Or more? Given how long the fighting had lasted, and how it seemed to move around the building, it must have been a small group. It didn’t matter. I’d find out one way or the other soon enough.

 The door opened a minute later. My heart rate skyrocketed in anticipation. Loud crashes and bursts of automatic gunfire filled the room with the door open until the men that came in shut it behind them causing my heart rate to nose-dive off the peak it had risen to when I saw Roman turn around.

 I could see Roman smile at me despite the terrible angle. He organized the three armed guards around the door and mumbled orders I couldn’t hear.

 He paced back and forth at the back of the room between me and the men listening to the sounds of battle as it grew nearer. It was so close I could hear men shout and scream, or the guttural sound of rage and pain; constant crashes and breaking and scuffling. The gunfire subsided as the other noises drew closer.

 “Who is it?” I asked, all awkward with my face on the cold metal table.

 Roman stopped and looked down at me, a little unsure, a little confused, and a lot furious.

 “Ha,” I whispered a weak laugh. It was exactly how I’d felt about Adrian Knight for half a year and it had made me miserable. Nice to see that look on someone else’s face.

 “What was that?” He glared.

 “It’s your turn,” I said.

 “You stupid bitch. I was going to keep you alive. I was going to show you what it was all for. Now look at you. No better than the rest. I think I’m going to give you to my men who survive. You won’t last the hour. What do you think of that?”

 Thank goodness for small favors. My day was already getting better. Or it was until machine gun fire erupted in the room next door. Everyone, everyone but me that is, leaned closer to the door and tried to listen to what was going on outside.

 Minutes passed with more bursts from the machine gun. Lots of screaming. Constant growls and crashes and things bumping into the wall.

 A bullet tore through the top of the door and ricocheted once or twice inside the room. Everyone, except me again, jerked back and ducked for cover. Unfortunately, no one was hit.

 “Damn that man. Damn him!” Roman Sawyer barely spit out, gritting his teeth so hard.

“You two!” Roman pointed at two of the guards. “Help me. Undo the pipe at her head. I’ll get her feet. I want her off the table and upright,” he said, taking the pipe apart at my feet.

 “The chains?” one of the men asked by my head.

 “Off,” he said. “If she tries for the door, kill her.”

 They took both pipes out, sat me up, and took the chains off. I slid off the table, gingerly testing the weight on my feet. It was difficult to stand. My ankles and wrists burned from the chains. I’d been horizontal for I don’t even know how long. Twelve hours? Eighteen? More than a day? All I knew was the pain piercing my feet was electrifying so I didn’t fight it. I leaned back against the table and spilled my hair forward over me as much as I could. Not for the cover, modesty wasn’t a priority at the moment, but more for the warmth it provided.

 A minute passed without sound.

 “If that door handle moves, I don’t care who’s on the other side, you shoot through it!” Roman snapped.

 The static from one of the men’s radios broke. “We got him.”

 I suppressed everything. There was no way I could be sure it was him. I put more weight on my feet and lifted my knees, massaging my thighs to get the blood flowing. I’d only get one chance.

 “He’s hit. Worked into a corner. Send out reinforcements to box him in,” the radio said.

 “Give me your gun,” Roman said to one of the men. The man handed it to him. “Go. All of you. I’m killing anyone that opens the door, so knock first.”

 They opened the door and reformed on the other side. Roman closed the door behind them but didn’t lock it.

 What he did do was grab me by the hair and swing me around in front him, putting his handgun to my temple.

 “I’m sorry little flower. You are in for a very rough night,” he said.

 I wasn’t bantering with this filth.

 “Nothing to say? Well how about this then, it appears our friend, Mr. Knight, survived his ordeal on the ship.”

 I must have jerked, or moved or something, because he laughed at me.

 “Oh yes, he’s out there.”

 He found me. He came for me. But why alone?

 “And he’s wounded. Bleeding in the dark out there on the floor. Maybe I’ll have him brought in here before he dies to see how close he came.”

 Roman couldn’t possibly know what that would do to him. I couldn’t let that happen. Not to the man who tried to save me. I didn’t know if I could handle someone sacrificing themselves for me, but I knew,
knew
, I wasn’t going to let someone be broken. Adrian Knight deserved better.

 “I wonder,” Roman mused.

 I planned my move while he indulged in bad villain dialogue.

 “I wonder if he’ll cower and beg like the old man at the museum?” He smiled.

 I shuddered and held in the desire kill him where he stood. He said it. He admitted to being there. He’d brought his men, his soldiers, and had them kill Henry and George.

 The room resounded with the sounds of automatic fire. Roman continued to smile, but as the sounds died someone screamed. Two someone’s. Followed by erratic gunfire. Roman’s smile slipped and he tightened his grip on my hair, pushing the gun harder against my head. He was tense, frightened. I wouldn’t get a better chance.

 I leaned forward like I was listening, then gasped and stared at the door, backing into Roman. He flinched, just for a second, just enough of a reaction to point the barrel away from me and towards the door.

 
Now!
I spun and threw my elbow high and wide over his arm holding the gun, pinning it tight in my armpit, while my other hand swept up one of the chains sitting on the table where they’d left it. I finished my arc, bringing the chain down hard into his face. He moved his wrist to reposition the gun, but I wrenched upwards under his elbow causing him to howl as his arm popped. He dropped the gun. I released his arm and stepped back to swing harder. I struck him twice more with the chain until he fell to one knee and toppled over the handgun trying to turn it up to me.

 I let go of the chain and ran out the door into the shadowed room.

 The only light was from the room beyond, the one with all the beds. The door was straight across from me and wide open. I ran for it.

 I heard the door to the small room behind me slam open before I was halfway across the room. I twisted back around to look—and gasped as my bare feet slipped in something on the floor. One leg slid into the other and I tumbled to the ground not five feet from the next room. A shot rang out over me, impacting somewhere in the room beyond.

 Before I could react, a bloody hand grabbed my wrist tight, something grunted, and pulled me into the dark. I screamed, felt my body drag over a mound on the floor, and tasted blood as another hand clasped tight over my mouth, which painfully choked off my screams.

 My captor fell behind me, releasing my wrist and wrapping his arm around my midsection. He pulled the upper half of my body tight against him. Out in the dark were more grunts and growls. I convulsed in a soundless scream. I was trapped. Trapped and held for those things. Those things that weren’t men any more. The things that would have gotten me in Nick’s office if Adrian hadn’t come for me. The things that ripped apart my friends. I shuddered and cried as the sounds grew louder, angrier, frenzied. I was going to die. The monsters were going to get me.

 “Sshhhhh,” my captor whispered in my ear.

 I heard Roman run by and stop where I’d fallen. “I’m going to find you! You and your friends! I’m going to kill you all!” he snarled.

 Something roared back in response from deeper in the room and Roman’s neck cracked he turned to look so fast. A pair of heavy boots rumbled through the room.

 “You!” Roman shouted. “What are you doing? Find them! Attack, damn you!”

 The heavy steps continued across the room.

 “You worthless drone, when I’m done I’m going to—what are you doing?” Roman said, changing his tone. “Stop.”

 The heavy steps continued.

 “Stop, that’s an order! Oh god, no.
No
.
Stop!
” A second later, a shot rang out and the heavy footsteps broke into a howling charge that ended in a crash and a soft crunch.

 Roman Sawyer’s body fell six feet away and the heavy steps moved into the next room.

 “Do. Not. Make. A sound.”

 Adrian? Adrian! I tried to look at him, but he held even tighter. Right, no sound. No movement whatsoever. He kept me from getting us both killed and it was my turn. I relaxed and tried to control my breathing. He relaxed his grip only after several long seconds.

 “Whisper,” he said with lips so close they brushed my ear. “Right into my ear like I’m doing. No more.”

 He leaned down to listen to me.

 “Roman. That was Roman, wasn’t it?”

 “Yes. He’s dead. One of them was badly wounded. Probably completely feral now.”

 I nodded against his chest.

 “Are you okay? They said you were hit,” I asked.

 “My leg. But it isn’t important right now.”

 I reached down to feel along his legs until my hand hit the huge moist area on his thigh. I felt blood on the floor beneath his leg as well and that was since he’d sat down.

 “Adrian!” I whisper-yelled.

 He pressed his hand hard against my mouth again and there was a loud crash in the outer room like something bumped into a table.

 I patted his arm to let him know I was calm, and as an apology. He released me.

 “Your thigh is covered in blood. It’s even on the floor since you’ve sat down.”

 “I’m covered in it. Probably not mine.”

 I took his hand and ran it down his wounded leg to let him feel it.

 “Oh,” he said. “Yeah, that’s bad.”

 “You think?”

 “Don’t be mean. I thought you were talking about my hip.”

 “Your hip? You mean you’ve been shot twice?” I snapped without raising my volume.

 “Helps explain why I can’t walk. I thought it was—”

 “If you can’t walk how are we going to escape?”

 He paused for a moment. “We won’t. You will.”

 “Don’t even start on the self-sacrificing heroic bullshit. I’m freezing and not in the mood.”

 “Well, it wasn’t exactly Plan A, but I can’t—”

 “What was Plan A?”

 “We both get out alive.”

 “Good. Let’s do that then.”

 “Claire, I can’t. It isn’t just my leg. It’s the drugs. Roman’s men overdosed me on Gray Night. Over and over. Couldn’t stop them. Now I’m—I’m crashing. I’ll be unconscious any minute. I’m sorry, I…”

 We needed to move, now.

 “Adrian, we need to go right now. Both of us. We can’t wait.”

 “Stubborn woman. Help me up. Quiet.”

 I leaned forward to balance myself with my hands on his shoulders while I stood, braced myself, and offered him my hands while being eternally grateful for the darkness.

 He clasped mine as I leaned back, helping to support some of his weight while he stood on his one good leg. When he was up, I drew him close.

 “And don’t you forget it.”

 I heard him slide out of his jacket and felt him place it over my shoulders.