Sure, it’s just a flowery, ancient ironing board, but if I can get that and block the space under the bed, it could be a makeshift shelter at least.
I just have to hold out until Mikhail gets here. That’s all. He’ll know how to take down these maniacs.
I rush to the closet, grabbing the ironing board. It’s unwieldy, and the legs seem really rusted somehow, but it’s still metal, and that’s gotta be better than these thin little walls.
Someone screams next door, and then goes deathly silent, and it sends a chill through me. Was that Eva? One of my protectors?
It’s only a matter of time...
I can’t think of that. Not now. There’s no escape, there’s just survival, so I crawl in under the bed, fixing the ironing board in place.
Not a moment too soon, because I hear a bullet strike the metal board right after. Whether it did anything to deflect it from me, I can’t tell, but I count myself lucky anyhow.
I curl up in a ball beneath the bed, clasping my wounded calf to stem the flow of blood. I rip some fabric from a dangling bedsheet and tie it around my leg before things go eerily quiet.
That silence is more blood curdling than the loud bangs of gunshots.
After a while I see a flicker of movement through a bullet hole in the wall. Then the door bursts open and I stifle a squeal before it can get out.
“Alicia?!” hisses Eva, looking for me.
“I’m here!” I rasp back from beneath the bed and she looks down, gun in hand as she shuts the door and reloads her gun.
“I plugged a few of these goons,” she says to me, looking primed and ready despite her disheveled state. “There’s more but help should be here at any moment,” she says, breathing heavily.
“Who are they?” I ask, as if it matters. They’re the bad guys. The ones with guns that are shooting at me and a woman who’s protecting me. “Is there anything I can do?” I ask, deciding that’s a much better question.
“Just stay hidden,” she says, running a hand back over her hair, “that’s the smartest thing you can do.” She fishes into the waistband of her jeans in back, pulling out a small revolver and a tiny black object, laying them down close to me. “Take these, hide this in your clothes, and shoot anyone who tries to take you. But for the love of God don’t blow my head off if I come racing back in here!”
“R-right,” I manage, staring for a second at the cold metal. I don’t want to touch it. I’m scared of it, and I tremble as I reach out, wrapping my hand around the grip. I can at least use it to frighten off anyone who tries to shoot at me, right?
Regardless, it’s better to have it. Makes me feel a tad stronger, now that it’s in my hands.
What really helps make me feel better, though, is the roar of motorcycle engines, because judging by the look on Eva’s face, help is here.
I quickly tuck the little black object into my sock, with nary a clue as to what it is or why.
“The cavalry has arrived,” she says with a cocky grin. But the daring woman doesn’t stop there; she bursts through the door and opens fire on the thugs after us, giving cover to her gang members as they pull up.
It doesn’t take long before the roar of motorcycle engines is drowned out by gunfire, though, as an even more intense firefight breaks out.
It feels like time is moving so fast and so slowly all at once. I can’t really see anything happening, as that’d defeat the purpose of hiding, but I can hear it all, and that’s just as bad.
“Please, Mikhail,” I whisper under my breath, trying desperately to summon him into existence. “Please hurry.”
I can see the silhouettes and shadows of figures fighting outside the room, and then suddenly, there’s a spray of blood right in front of me, and Eva falls to the ground, blood starting to pool beneath her.
The fighting doesn’t stop, but bodies start spilling into the room outside. I hold the gun, but I can’t tell if they’re friend or foe, and I don’t want to risk blowing away one of the gang members here to save me.
By the time heavy boots come stomping into the room and I can make out the mobbed up attire that looks nothing like what the biker gang would wear, it’s too late. They easily tear apart my makeshift shelter. They’ve got me!
15
Mikhail
Before the call even ended I was running. The nearest car will do, I tell myself before cracking the side window and reaching in to open the door.
The act didn’t go unnoticed, but it’s too late for that. I bust open the panel beneath the steering wheel and hotwire the vehicle, making it come to life in a heartbeat. There’s no time for a graceful getaway now, I’ll just have to trust that I’ve put enough distance between me and the scene of the hit to not be suspicious as I speed away.