It’s a war-zone.
Thankfully, there doesn’t seem to be many victims, but their twisted bodies will be burnt into my memory for a while.
I know that must seem like a strange thing. Bearing in mind taking a life doesn’t bother me. But you have to understand the difference between killing someone who is ornately evil to the core versus a complete innocent.
This is such a waste of life.
I glance across to Owen, who is staring at the lifeless bodies of a couple caught in the explosion, both gripped in an everlasting embrace.
“Don’t look at them. Focus on the path in front of us.” I grab his hand and squeeze, trying to be reassuring. But how can I truly give him the reassurance he needs when I’m sitting here,holding a Glock in my hand, and he’s just watched me ruthlessly kill three people?
“Can you see the door?”
He nods, but my attention is ripped from Owen and the broken bodies as a team of six men fall into the room, all in black combat attire, gas masks over their heads. They enter in a tactical formation, fanning out in a search pattern.
Well…Shit.
These are trained and dangerous men.
“Get ready to move.” I take the safety off the gun and stand and pull the trigger before I order Owen to run.
He darts across the room, using the tables as cover as he zig zags across the carnage, running as fast as he can to the door. All the while, I empty the bullets from my gun, picking off the team one by one as I move across the room.
I’ve caught them by surprise, not realising someone would be here to meet them, to try to stop their mission.
My gun fires its last bullet when the first sound of their gun pops. A burning sensation on my right arm flares as a bullet grazes my flesh.
Blood bursts from the wound as I drop to the ground. I glance at Owen’s last location to see him disappear through the door before I roll to the table for cover.
I’ve got no bullets, and only a knife as a weapon. I’ve hit at least four of them, but I can’t engage with them, not when Owen is left unprotected. I have to hope he makes it to the car in one piece. The hotel will have been evacuated. The fire alarms are blaring, adding to the chaos.
I grab a fallen napkin and wrap it around my arm, thankful that it’s a flesh wound but it will still need stitches. I fold it quickly and tie it around the gash before I take out the knife.
I slice my dress giving me more movement, remove my shoes, and start crawling on my hands and knees towards thesecondary fire exit. I pause every few feet to listen for their commands, but amongst the noise, I can’t pinpoint anything or anyone.
“Help me.” A small voice grabs my attention, and I look over to see a woman who is similar in age staring through tear-streaked eyes. Her hands are bloody. I hold my finger up to my lips and she nods.
But I can’t help her.
I can’t stop and put pressure on her wound to stop her from bleeding out. I can’t reassure her that she’s going to be okay.
I can’t do anything but continue to get to Owen.
As I start to crawl past her, the broken whisper punches me in my gut.
“Please, don’t leave me.”
I wince and shake my head as I continue crawling. And I feel fucking horrific.
Like I said, I maybe emotionless when killing, but that woman is an innocent. I can’t do anything to help her. And it’s bullshit.
The safety systems of the hotel have finally kicked in, and the sprinklers overhead have come on. Using the momentary distraction, I stand up, locate my target, and throw my knife at one of the assailants.
I miss, but it’s made them duck, allowing me to run full pelt out the fire exit.
I skid out the room, my shoulder hitting the other side of the corridor, sending a sharp dagger of pain jolting through my grazed arm. I push off the wall, regaining my balance leaving a bloody smear in its wake.
Guests file out of the hotel tear stained. Workers evacuate through the halls, dust covered dinner guests all make their way to the safety of the exit, away from the death and destruction.
