Page 22 of Until You

I squeeze my eyes shut and grit my teeth to try and breathe through the pain.

I promise I’m coming home to you.

Justin groans from where he’s lying in the middle of the room. No cover. No help.

I can see his feet from my position where I’m slumped against the kitchen wall. My cell phone is across the dingy carpet against the opposing wall. It must have gotten knocked off my hip when I dove for cover. It keeps vibrating.

They’re trying to call me.

Trying to get info on how to get this bastard.

Think, Crew.

Think.

We need to get the fuck out of here.

“Hold on there, buddy. Backup is here. Outside.” Each whispered word is a painful pant. A statement I’m not sure is true.

There’s no flash of red and blue from the light bar coming in through the window.

But I know they’re coming.

I know they must be outside staging to save us. No man left behind.

They have to be.

But Justin’s dying. I’m not far fucking behind.

He groans again. My lungs rattle with each breath, and my pulse pounding in my ears almost drowns the sound out.

We’re fucking trapped in here. Trapped with nowhere to go. A madman behind the closed but splintered bedroom door who has nothing to lose.

He’s already shot two cops.

He’s already going to prison.

Why stop now?

The baby cries again. Somewhere.

I think.

I don’t know.

Am I hallucinating?

No. It’s real.

Is it real?

That’s why I hesitated.

That’s why when Justin stepped forward, when I saw the gun, I hesitated. The fucking baby. I shudder as I relive the image of Justin taking the first barrage of bullets. His body jerking. His barked yelp. The sound of his body thumping as it crumbled to the floor.

“Justin,” I say as quietly as I can to avoid giving our location away. But we’re in his apartment. He shot us. It’s not like there are many places we can hide at this point. “Think of Sheila. She’s going to be so pissed at you if you don’t make it home and finish that bathroom remodel.” I try to engage him. To continue the conversation we had earlier today before everything went to shit. Before my mind becomes so foggy I can’t remember anymore. “You can’t let her be right. You have to pull—”

A slam on the other side of the closed bedroom door on the far side of the room has me jolting in fear, my finger tightening on my trigger.