“Fuck!” I yell, my pace naturally picking up. I reach the back of the hangar, just as Goldie flies out of the door.
“Time’s up.”
“I’m not leaving without all of them.”
“You’ll get us all killed, Danny.”
I hold up my gun, looking at her, and I see the moment she realizes I’m unmoving. She blinks slowly, inhales, and matches my pose. She could go. Tell me to go fuck myself. What the fuck does she care about those women? Her life, James’s life, all of our lives are precious. But, and it’s a small mercy, we’re not animals. Inhumane.Rapists. “There’s two doors fifty feet from the beds,” she says. “One’s bolted, the other ajar. They’ll come through there.”
“How many?”
“Fifteen, at least.”
“Go,” I order, and she runs back inside, covering the door, while we go to the final bed. James heaves a blonde onto his shoulder, Ringo a brunette, and Brad moves in on a black-haired girl, and all I can think is that these fuckers are clearly trying to cater for every taste. I look down at the pasty, washed-out face of the blonde before me, and her eyes flutter open. The glassy pools are blank.
“Brace,” Goldie says lowly, prompting me to get moving, lifting her floppy body onto my shoulder and turning to face the door, holding up my gun. I hear laughter from the other side, rough foreign voices. I sneer, willing them through the door so I can blow out their sick minds.
“We have one more,” Brad hisses, going to the final bed. “Fuck!”
“I can’t carryandcover.” Goldie looks between us and the door.
“She’s awake.” Brad dips. “Can you walk for me?” he asks. “I’ll help you.”
She nods, it’s strained, and she starts to push herself up, losing her balance constantly, her arms lifting to steady herself. I wince and look away when her ragged tank slips down her arms, revealing breasts tinged purple and yellow.Fuck me.I swallow, blinking away the vision of the bruises decorating Rose’s back when I met her. Brad helps the redhead, easing her top up to save her dignity, all the while holding the other woman on his shoulder, leaving him unarmed.
“Let’s go,” James grunts, leading the way out, looking back at Goldie. She’s closed the door and pushed a nearby bed up against it, buying us some time. “Goldie, move it.”
“I’m coming.” She jogs across the open space, the thuds of her boots echoing around the vast room, and just as she reaches us, the sound of metal scrapping concrete sounds along with a collection of rushed, foreign words.
Curses.
Then, gunfire.
Then, screams.
I spin, raising my gun, having a split-second check that everyone is behind me before I squeeze the trigger and send bullets raining as I walk backward. It’s our only option with no cover. Nothing to shield us. I roar, the muscles in my arm burning from holding my position, my shoulder aching from holding the woman.
“Back up,” James yells, appearing beside me, his shoulder bare. A quick glance to Goldie tells me he’s handed her the woman he was carrying. He has two machine guns. Two belts. Endless bullets, and he sprays them, the guns drifting effortlessly from side to side, ensuring he covers every inch of space. Men drop like flies before me as they run through the doorway, too eager to be a hero, insufficiently armed.
The yells and screams persist, chaos at every turn. It’s all happening in slow motion but at lightning speed. I make it outside and drop my gun, using both hands to hold the woman as I jerk my shoulder, getting her slipping body back into place. I look back and see Brad helping the stumbling, dazed, redhead along while struggling to keep another unconscious woman on his shoulder.
“Get moving, Danny,” Ringo barks as he jogs past, the woman on his shoulder now awake, alert, and crying.
James appears out of the hangar, slamming the door and pushing his back up against it while he reloads. “There’s five more,” he pants, knackered. “I can hold them.”
“Fuck that,” I say over a labored laugh. “Get your Rambo arse in gear now.”
He turns a snarl onto me. “I work better alone, now fuck off and let me deal with this.” His eyes meet mine, and I try so fucking hard to push friendship aside and remember who James is.The Enigma.
“Fuck!” I bark. “Brad, you good?” I go back to him, taking over with the redhead so he can get a better hold of the woman he’s carrying.
“We need to up our game in the gym,” he pants, shifting, reclaiming the woman from me and breaking out in a steady jog, taking the lead. He looks down at her bare feet. At the rocks and uneven ground we’re treading.
“Blank it out,” he says, and she looks at him. “You can do it.”
She frowns, and it occurs to me that she probably can’t even understand him. But her pace increases, so perhaps she does. I look back, seeing James still against the metal door, his body jerking with every jar from the other side. He looks up at me, just as I round a corner, losing sight of him.
And then, gunfire.