Page 78 of Wrecked
He lifted his head just enough to see over large boxes stacked three wide, two deep, and four feet high. Gripping his gun in his right hand, he yanked the broom up and then quickly back down.
Shots zinged close to his left shoulder.
He returned fire. Heard a hiss of sound. He’d hit something but hadn’t heard a body fall. He moved to a new location, closer to the shooter if the guy hadn’t changed his position.
Something bumped metal way over on his left.
Sam would not go for the bait.
Then a noise in the area where he’d left Hailey yanked his head around.
Had that been her or the shooter?
Sam started back toward her. The broom handle tapped against the leg of a machine.
Shots pinged all around him. The killer was trying to herd them.
Sam lifted his weapon to return three shots and kept moving. The skin above his eyes burned. Hell. A shot must have ricocheted off equipment to skip across his forehead. He’d have blood running into his eyes soon.
Not slowing, he kept in the direction of where he’d left Hailey.
More shots rang out from straight back at the wall from where he squatted. Shooter was moving parallel with him. Sam had to get this guy before he closed in on Hailey’s location. If she’d made that noise, hoping to help Sam, the killer knew where she was.
Warm liquid ran into Sam’s eyes. The air filled with the smell of fresh blood. He swiped his forehead with the back of his hand.
Something skipped across the floor beyond where she hid.
Shots pounded that spot, tearing into the metal wall.
Sam took that opportunity to stand and unload five times where he’d seen muzzle flash. He heard a grunt then the sound of weight hitting the floor. Could be a trap to draw him in, but the fact the shooter went for what had to be Hailey’s decoy sound probably meant Sam’s first hit had done significant damage.
Sirens headed toward them from maybe a mile away.
They had no car, and this was not much of an urban area for finding a quick replacement.
Lifting the broom from where he’d left it, he moved it forward as he crouched. No shots. Lowering the broom, he pulled his shirt off, catching his fingers on holes shot through it. He rubbed his forehead and eyes then pulled on the shirt as he rushed to where he’d hidden Hailey.
Not there.
Keeping his voice down, he called out, “Hailey!”
“Here. On your right.”
Relieved to hear her voice, he hurried to her.
She stood halfway. “Did you stop him?”
“Think so. Cops coming and the car is gone.”
“We’re left with escaping on foot.”
He grabbed her hand. “Let’s try something else first.”
