Page 9 of When You're Broken
Finn clenched his jaw, pressing himself into the shadows.Across from him, Amelia looked furious.If they tried to break for the stairs, he’d have an easy line on them.They had no weapon except their wits.Another bullet pinged, sending shards of cement into the air.
In the hush that followed, Finn glanced at Amelia, who mouthed the words, “We need a plan.”She pointed to a bright red object affixed to the wall across the corridor—an old fire alarm switch.He recognized it, feeling a flicker of hope.If they triggered a fire alarm, presumably the entire children's home would evacuate, staff and any residents included.The manager might lose his vantage in the confusion.
He inched close enough to whisper into her ear, “If I draw him away from the stairs, you set off the alarm.Then slip upstairs with everyone else in the confusion.”
She parted her lips as if to argue, then her expression softened into reluctant agreement.“You sure?”
“Got a better idea?”he returned quietly.“We can’t both waltz over to the alarm.He’d see us.But if I make noise somewhere else, he might move.Then you can do your thing, vanish in the crowd, call for backup.”
She studied him for a beat, eyes swimming with worry.“I hate leaving you behind,” she said.
He mustered a faint grin.“I’ve faced worse.Just… get outside.Once you’re out, Wendell’s manager can’t keep us pinned.The local police can arrive in minutes, or we can call Rob.Then we corner him properly.”
Amelia inhaled, nodding.“All right.I know when not to argue with you,” she said wryly.She paused, her eyes flicking to the corner where the manager crouched.Another bullet fired, slamming into a rusting pipe overhead, making them duck.In that tense moment, she turned to Finn, pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.“Don’t you dare get shot,” she whispered fiercely.
“Same goes for you,” he replied, heart pounding.
She readied herself, flattening behind the cabinet.Finn edged back around the corner, eyes scanning for any potential item to use for a distraction.He spotted a tall wooden shelf leaning precariously near the corridor’s end—maybe he could rattle it or push it over to create noise.He snuck in a low crouch along the edges of the corridor, ignoring the pain in his cramped calves.
Another shot barked out, but it went wide.He guessed the manager was anxious, or running short on ammo.Finn inched behind the base of the staircase, pressing against the underside.The manager had perched up top on the landing, gun aimed down.Finn glimpsed the man’s shoes and ankles.He swallowed, adrenaline spiking.The manager’s face was out of sight, but one wrong move and Finn risked a shot point-blank.
He rummaged along the floor, finding a loose piece of broken plaster the size of his fist.He seized it, drew back his arm, then hurled it against a stack of old crates near the far side.The impact rattled them with a loud crash.Immediately, Peterson’s footsteps shifted, accompanied by a grunt.
“Show yourself!”the manager barked, pivoting.
Finn turned and looked.Amelia used that moment to slip from behind her cabinet, crossing the corridor in a half-run.She had to cross about eight or nine feet of open space to get to the red alarm box.Finn’s stomach knotted, tracking her carefully.Just a few more steps…
But the manager, suspecting a ruse, turned back faster than expected.Finn could hear the scuff of his shoes against the step.If he looked down the corridor, he’d spot Amelia.She froze, half a yard from the alarm, pressed against the wall.Finn realized in horror that if the manager even glimpsed her, he could shoot her with an almost direct line of sight.
Finn needed a bigger diversion.He quietly circled behind the underside of the stairwell, ignoring the dust caking his hands.He spotted a metal trolley parked next to a cluster of files.Heart pounding, he lunged forward and shoved it hard.The trolley slammed across the corridor, toppling a box with a resounding bang, scattering paper.
The manager let out a furious exclamation and fired in that direction.The muzzle flash illuminated a glimpse of his face—knotted with desperation.Amelia yanked the alarm’s lever, and a shrill siren erupted throughout the basement, echoing off the low ceiling.The manager spun around, eyes wild, snapping the gun up.
He spotted Amelia.Time slowed.Finn’s mind raced: if the manager fired now, there was no cover for her.Without hesitation, Finn scrambled out from behind the stairs, hands searching for anything to throw or strike him with.A thick ledger lay half-buried in the scattered documents—some old record from the children's home’s archives.He hefted it and hurled it overhand with all his might.
It smacked the manager’s upper arm.The shot he fired went astray, bullets ricocheting off the steps.Amelia ducked, then bolted up the staircase, two steps at a time.Meanwhile, the manager recovered enough to swing the gun back toward Finn.Another shot rang out, dangerously close.Bits of stone showered Finn’s ankles.He dived aside, stifling a yelp as a shard grazed his calf.
Above them, the fire alarm continued to wail.Faintly, Finn could hear commotion from the children's home’s upper floors.The remaining people in the building must be streaming out, some shouting in confusion.The manager roared in frustration.Amelia was nearly gone, melting into the crowd.The manager scrambled up after her, apparently determined not to lose both of them.
Finn forced himself to his feet, ignoring the stinging cut on his leg.He sprinted after them up the steps, only to see that Amelia had already vanished past the door, presumably blending with staff or slipping outside.The manager fired a round at Finn, but missed.The bullet slammed into the banister, sending splinters flying.
Once Finn reached the top, he found chaos.The hallway was lit by flashing emergency lights, the siren’s shriek assaulting his eardrums.Staff, mostly wearing casual attire, hurried with alarmed expressions, some shepherding children out the main doors.Dust and a faint haze from some old extinguisher drifting in the hall gave everything a surreal haze.Finn ducked behind a corner.The manager, gun clutched in his shaking hand, advanced up the final steps.People parted around him in terror, some screaming when they noticed the weapon.
“Out of the building!”a staff member yelled at everyone, ignoring Finn for the moment.The manager’s eyes darted around, scanning for Amelia.He paid little attention to Finn, assuming perhaps Amelia had run outside.This is my chance,Finn thought.If Amelia was outside calling for help, he just needed to keep the manager pinned or distracted.
He pressed himself behind the corner, waiting, heart thrumming.The hallway cleared swiftly as the staff fled.Now, only the manager's determined footsteps sounded above the alarm.Finn saw him pass, presumably trying to push through the main foyer.Then he realized the manager had changed direction, possibly suspecting Finn might still be around.The footsteps circled back.
Careful to remain unseen, Finn found a recessed area near a leftover coat rack.He spotted a bright red fire extinguisher mounted on the wall, still secured in its bracket.The manager’s footsteps drew closer, each one resonating in Finn’s chest.He removed the extinguisher as quietly as possible, his mind racing.We used one in training for small-scale fires, never as a weapon.But if he could blind or disorient the manager… it might give him an edge.
The manager emerged from around the corner, muzzle raised, scanning.The corridor was vacant aside from drifting bits of paper, flickering overhead lights, and the unrelenting siren.Finn crouched, hiding behind the coat rack.He waited until the manager was nearly upon him.
With a sudden lunge, he stepped forward and squeezed the extinguisher’s handle.A blast of thick white foam billowed out, hitting the manager in the face.The man screamed in shock, stumbling backward.He fired blindly, the bullet punching into a plaster wall.Finn pressed the advantage, batting the manager’s arm aside.They grappled, the manager trying to shake off the foam in his eyes.
Without a gun of his own, Finn had to rely on muscle.He managed to shove the manager into the hallway.They slammed into a table, sending an old vase crashing.The manager coughed, half-blinded, but refused to relinquish his weapon.He lurched sideways, hooking an arm around Finn’s waist.Finn gasped as the manager pressed the muzzle into his ribs.Finn pulled the hand away as hard as he could.
They thrashed for control of the pistol.The manager jammed it forward; Finn twisted his torso, forcing the muzzle away from vital organs.The fire alarm’s wail hammered Finn’s ears, fueling the sense of panic.If that trigger was pulled once more, he might not be so lucky.
Then, as if answering a silent prayer, Amelia reappeared behind the manager.She must have circled in through another corridor or a side door after ensuring staff evacuated.Her hair was disheveled, eyes blazing with determination.Before the manager could sense her, she kicked him square in the back of his knee.He buckled, the gun swinging wide.Finn seized that moment to wedge the man’s wrist with both hands, wrenching the weapon free.It clattered to the floor, spinning away.
