Page 12 of Knight Moves

“Yeah, but what if whoever shot him comes after us?” Wally argued. “We’ll be sitting ducks in here.”

“Maybe the limo is bulletproof,” Frankie said.

“Maybe it isn’t. You want to stick around and find out?”

Frankie’s face was turning purple from breathing too fast. “It doesn’t make sense. Why would someone want to shoot us? We didn’t do anything.”

“These days, no one needs a reason to shoot someone,” Wally said. “We’re all targets.”

I didn’t like what he’d said, but I didn’t disagree with it, either. I lifted my head to peek out the window. A figure dressed in all black and wearing a ski mask emerged from behind one of the buildings and was cautiously making his way toward our downed driver.

My heart lodged in my throat. “I see the shooter. He’s dressed in black and holding a handgun. He’s headed toward our driver, who’s still on the ground and not moving. That’s not a good development.”

“You think?” Wally said. “It’s time to get the heck out of here.”

“What about our driver?” Frankie asked. “We can’t just leave him there. He was so nice.”

“We can’t do anything for him at this point,” I said. “But maybe we can find help.”

“We have to get out of the car,” Wally said. “If we stay here any longer, we won’t have a choice.” He flipped the door lock open and cautiously cracked the door on the side opposite of where the dark figure was still bent over our driver. Pushing it open just enough to exit, he slid out of the car and motioned vigorously for us to follow.

I wasn’t crazy about the plan, but I agreed action was better than inertia. Frankie wiggled across the limo floor and slid out of the car next to Wally. Seconds later, I joined them. We partially closed the door and crouched there, our backs against the car, our hearts beating hard.

“What now?” Frankie whispered.

I pointed to an area between the buildings and kept my voice low. “That way. Maybe one of the doors are open and we can get inside and find help or a weapon.”

“What if the bad guys are already inside?” Wally said. “I say go for the woods.”

“Three geeks in the woods,” I said. “That would not end well. We’d be easier to target than a herd of elephants.”

“Good point,” Wally said. “Okay. To the buildings, it is. On the count of three. Zigzag as you run, and keep low.”

“How do you know zigzag works?” Angel asked.

“I play a lot of first-person shooter games. Trust me, okay?”

There was no more time for discussion. We nodded, and Wally started the countdown.

“One, two…three.”

Fueled by adrenaline, we burst out from behind the car toward the buildings, nearly tripping each other as we zigzagged. I quickly pulled to the front, my legs pumping harder than they ever had before. Something pinged off the brick sidewalk near my left foot as I hurtled between the buildings with the others on my heels.

OMG! He’s shooting at us!

I took a hard left the first chance I could, Frankie and Wally right behind me. We tore around another corner, a second ping hitting the wall just above my head. The second I turned the corner, I saw an old-fashioned wooden door with a small iron window and a latch handle. I slammed into it, pressing down on the handle, but it was locked. We ran on, taking the first turn we could. Another door was there, and I pushed on it. To my relief, this one opened, and the three of us tumbled in, nearly taking each other down. I slammed it shut behind me, but there was no lock.

“Hurry,” I gasped, tearing off down a hallway, not knowing or caring where I was going, so long as it was away from the guy with the gun.

Wally and Frankie followed me. Our harsh breathing and tennis shoes hitting the tile floor echoed in the empty hallways. To my dismay, no security guard, military escort, or adults of any kind to help us appeared.

My heart was pounding so frantically, I thought I might have a heart attack. I took a hard left down another corridor and tried the first door on my right. It opened, and I pushed Wally and Frankie inside. There was no lock on this door, either, so I grabbed a chair and jammed it under the door handle to keep it from being opened. Slowly, I backed up, holding a finger to my lips.

A quick glance around indicated we were in a staff break room with a few round tables and a vending machine. Wally was already looking through the drawers for a weapon or anything that might offer protection. He held up a metal cake cutter and a couple of plastic forks. Frankie pulled out a bottle of bleach. I did my own quiet search, finally pouring a handful of salt into both hands. It wasn’t much, but it was either that or trying to brain the attacker with a paper plate.

The three of us huddled together in a corner, hoping the attacker would pass us by. Moments later we could hear the handle on the door being jiggled. It was silent, and then a loud crash sounded.

Frankie screamed as the door flung open and the shooter, dressed in black, stepped over the chair I’d jammed beneath the handle.

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