“Oh Jacob,” I whispered. This was bad. How the hell were we going to get him out of here like this?
Suddenly, the lights in the room changed color, shifting to a deep and ominous red as a loud, blaring,whoopsound rang throughout the room and repeated over and over. It didn’t take a genius to know what it all meant.
“Shit,” Wes groaned while Harper let out a slew of expletives. “You guys carry him,” he ordered. “I’ll take the lead. Calista, take the rear. Switch to lethals.”
Fear whipped through my body as I reached to my left hip, undid the clip of my holster, and pulled out my 9mm handgun. And just like I had done so many times before, I pulled back the slide. The gun jerked in my hand with the force of the slidewhipping back into place as the bullet slipped into the chamber. Calista and Wes did the same, ready to fire.
“Stay low, stay quick,” Wes said with a stern look painted across his features. “Let’s move out.” And then we were off.
Wes walked us across the room and opened the stupid door I had punched the living crap out of. The once white room was cast in the same red glow, and the horrible longwhoopingalarm kept blaring repeatedly. As Wes came up to the door that led into the hallway, he opened it quickly, checked both directions, and then motioned us forward. I watched as my brother tried his best to use his legs, trying to support his own weight as much as he could, but he was so weak, so slow. It was taking all of Jim and Matias’s strength to carry him.
What am I going to do?
There was no way I could carry him by myself. If he couldn’t support his own weight, I wasn’t sure we would make itanywhereout of here. My brain kept spinning in circles, desperately trying to find a solution to my problem as we tried to hustle down the hall. Jacob partially limped and was partially dragged down the hallway, his arms looped over Jim and Matias’s shoulders, while his head lulled from time to time. I sent a silent prayer up to the universe, begging that he would become more lucid soon. Just carrying his own weight would be a dramatic improvement.
Wes motioned in front of me. I saw the stairwell access door several yards ahead and felt an enormous sense of relief at the sight of it. We just needed to get down the stairs. Down the stairs, out the door, and a brisk jog to the fence. Of course, that didn’t solve my problem of running away with my brother. But right now, I’d settle for staying alive.
“Move it,” Wes hollered back toward us. And we responded, trying to pick up the pace while my brother tried using his legsas much as he could. The door came closer and closer, just a few feet away, when we heard the blast.
BANG!
“Hit the deck!” Wes hollered as Jim yelled out, dropping to the ground. I crouched low, getting close to the wall as several prison guards—too many to count—whipped around the corner at the far end of the hall, firing at us.
Wes fired two shots in rapid succession, taking out a guard who plopped to the ground as I fired my own gun three times, taking out one guard with two to the chest and one to the head. I chanced a quick look at my brother, who had dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes when Harper screamed out. Matias helped him move to the wall behind me and then crouched low at my side, firing away. Calista shimmied over to Harper and dragged him closer to the wall by her, checking his pulse. And when I saw him, I almost threw up.
Harper’s eyes were wide open, staring lifelessly at me while blood trickled down his face from a massive hole that blew out the upper left side of his forehead. I spun away, the scene too bloody, too gory for me to stomach. I lifted my weapon again, trying hard to focus on the onslaught of guards that just kept coming from the end of the hall.
“Wes!” Matias called by me. “We lost Harper!”
“We need to move!” Wes acknowledged as he fired his gun off again. He glanced at Matias, “You and me”—Bang!Bang!—“we’ll hold them off!”
“What!” It wasn’t a question. Was he crazy? I wasn’t going to leave them here like this!
“Haeflinger,” Matias shouted over his shoulder as he released the magazine from his gun and slammed another one into place with ease. “Take Mara and Jacob through the stairs! We’ll cover!”
My eyes widened. “No, Matias!”
“We’ll be right behind you.” He fired off two more shots. “Your brother can’t make it to the door without cover. Go!”
I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell him to go get his head checked if he thought I was actually going to do that. But when I looked at my brother—gaunt, weak, and barely able to move himself—I knew he was right and I had little choice. With a deep breath, I aimed my gun and fired off four rounds in rapid succession, watching one guard drop to the floor while another grabbed his shoulder where the bullet sunk in.
Matias grabbed a flash grenade from his bag, pulling out the pin as he yelled “Flashbang!” and then rolled it down the hall like he was throwing a bowling ball. I dropped, curling into a ball, closing my eyes and plugging my ears to—hopefully—save myself from the effects of the grenade.
BOOM!
The entire floor shook with the intensity, throwing me onto my back.
Get up, get up, get up!
Feeling disoriented, I scrambled back onto my feet and turned behind me. Grabbing Jacob’s arm, I placed it around my neck as Calista moved into action, doing the same. Together, we heaved him up and began moving him as quickly as we could to the door while Matias and Wes marched forward, firing away at the new wave of guards whipping around the corner down the hall, ignoring their disoriented comrades.
“Jacob, you’ve got to help us,” I begged him. “Please, you’ve got to try.” I felt his body stiffen as he tried to lift each leg, tried to carry his own weight.
BANG, BANG, BANG!
“Fuck!” I heard Wes scream. I turned to see him gripping his right shoulder as he tried to keep his right arm up to fire his weapon.
“Wes!” He was hurt. My heart hammered in my chest, adrenaline pumping through my veins as more shots were fired, this time getting Matias in the leg, and I watched in horror as he dropped to the floor. “No!”