Hunted (A Sinners Series Book 2)

by Abi Ketner

  “Jeep? Tank? They decide that, not me. Besides, usually they take the jeep,” Bill says. He runs past the side doors and we see Bruno and Grace just as Bruno swings the butt of his gun into a window alongside the hospital. The crashing of glass splits the air. He lowers his equipment in and slides through afterward, waiting for the rest of us to do the same. Cole is through next, then Roméo.

  Zeus sprints in front of me, corralling Grace and dancing around her. Zeus knows. I hurry to her side, relieved to see her. Her face is coated with sweat, and her shirt’s stained around the collar. We push our equipment through first, buying time so we can talk.

  “Hey, how are you holding up?”

  “Almost peed myself about a thousand times, but otherwise, peachy,” she says. She steps back and clasps her hands over her belly. Her eyes drift downward quickly and then we both jump through the opening. Zeus follows and then Bill.

  Once we’re all inside the basement, chills chase up my spine, causing goose bumps on my arms. I let my feet settle beneath me before grabbing my flashlight and looking around. It’s still a mess. Boxes are piled up in heaps. The tables, beds, and chairs are in the same places I remember. I feel Cole’s eyes on me as I walk a few feet away from everyone.

  This is where it was, this very spot.

  I stand in the exact area where guards dragged me just a few months before. If it weren’t for Cole and Zeus, they would’ve raped me right here. And probably murdered me afterward. I clear my throat and take a deep breath, feeling a twinge of guilt for being angry at Cole. He grabs my arm, and my hands reflexively come up.

  “I’m right here,” he says.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “Come on, faster people,” Bruno says.

  I straighten my shoulders, put the flashlight away, and focus. “The stairs are that way.”

  Cole leads, flipping on his night-vision goggles as we get further in. He steps over things we can’t see and tries to lead us safely away from them. He stops. He’s maneuvering in the darkness, and I wonder what he’s doing. Then a flashlight flips on, and I notice he’s pulled off his night-vision goggles He points the light toward the wall and nods for me to follow it.

  The doorway to the staircase. Next to it is a sign that reads STAIRCASE/8 WEST. An eerie feeling washes over me. The morgue is only next door. It’s too bad we can’t take the elevator, but I know the cameras would probably pick us up immediately.

  “This is it,” I say in a flat voice.

  He jiggles the handle, which doesn’t budge. He slams his shoulder into the door, but it won’t open. Another flashlight flicks on, and Bruno comes to the front of the line.

  “Never get lucky,” he says. “Everyone back up.”

  “Seriously?” I ask.

  “Yeah, I’m going to blow this sucker.”

  “Oh, hell,” I say, covering my ears.

  Cole pushes us away from the door and holds the flashlight as Bruno fires at the lock. Next thing I know, the handle’s dangling from the door. When Bruno pushes the door open, it squeals in protest.

  They have to know we’re in the building now.

  “Run, Forest!” Bill says. But I have no idea what he’s talking about.

  Cole flashes his light up the dark stairwell. “Follow me.”

  We move in procession up the first flight. I do my best to be quiet, even as Zeus’s nails tap along the floor.

  Two flights. Roméo stops to catch his breath. He gasps and coughs.

  “Come on, we’re almost there,” Bruno says. He pulls Roméo forward.

  Three flights. Grace bends over, placing her hands on her knees. I run to her side and put my hand on the back of her backpack.

  “What do you need?”

  “Water, please.” She sounds raspy, so I grab her water and let her drink some before putting it away.

  Four flights. My lungs are on fire. My legs ache. I hope I don’t start cramping up.

  Five flights. Even Cole is breathing heavier now. He’s not running so much as jogging up the steps now. His flashlight bounces, and he checks every door along the way. So far, all of them are locked.

  Six flights. I’m pretty sure my backpack has completely stripped the skin off my shoulders. I glance back into the shadows. Roméo and Grace look worse. Bruno, on the other hand, looks like he could take another twenty flights carrying Grace and all her equipment on his shoulders.

  Seven flights. Bill chugs from his flask, then chucks it away. It clanks on the way down the stairs, making me want to punch him for being so thoughtless.

  Eighth and final floor—where Sutton’s office is. Once again, the door’s bolted shut. I feel all jumpy as Bruno and Cole try to get through it without using their guns. It’s no use. Cole shakes his head. Bruno aims his gun.

  “Stop,” Bill says from the back. “Let me try.”

  Bruno pulls his finger away from the trigger and allows Bill to step in front of him. In his hands, Bill holds two tools that look like small bobby pins, except one of them is curved. First, he sticks one in the hole and jiggles it up and down, pulling it back out. Then he puts the curved end of the other one at the bottom while shoving the first tool back in. He pulls the bottom tool left, while flicking the other up.

  With a click, he pulls the door handle, and it opens.

  “What the hell was that?” Bruno asks. “Why didn’t you tell me you could do that?”

  “You didn’t ask.”

  Bruno slowly opens the door an inch. Nothing happens. He slides in, Cole moving in behind him. I give cover as the others enter, following shortly after. I can tell the sun’s rising because the hallway’s a strange hue of light blue. The doors to the patient rooms hang open, but I don’t hear a sound.

  This seems too easy.

  Bruno moves toward the first room, clearing it. Cole moves to the next.

  “Clear,” Cole says.

  “Clear,” Bruno says.

  They head into the next rooms as Grace, Bill, and I move farther down. I kick in a door and shove inside with my gun raised. I scan the room. My nerves are taut, but my hands are steady. The bed’s undone, sheets half on the floor. The chairs are overturned, and the bathroom’s dark. I slowly walk to the bathroom door and push it open. Nothing.

  “Clear,” I say, turning and walking out.

  Bill’s in the room next door, and Grace goes into the one beyond that. Four more rooms to go, and then we’ll head to the office to raid it.

  Suddenly, Zeus howls. The hair on my neck stands straight up.

  I hear it. There’s no mistaking the sound of a gun banging away. I sprint down the hallway, trying to find where it’s coming from. Then I hear more shots, and my throat constricts. Bruno stumbles backward into the hallway with a man on top of him. In the guard’s hand is a knife.

  “No!” I scream.

  But Cole comes to his aid, shooting the guy in the torso. His body jerks, and his hands slip, so Bruno shoves him off. More guards pile into the hallway from another room.

  Oh my God, it’s an ambush.

  Hell rains down in the form of bullets. Zeus barks, snarls, and rips at the guard lying on the floor. Drywall from the ceiling begins collapsing in chunks around me. The clatter of quick rounds sounding off deafens my ears. Pop, pop, pop! Bang! Bang!

  My ears ring. My heart sprints. I dive into the doorway of a previously cleared room and fire from there. I can barely see the white tiles of the floor anymore as men go down.

  Zeus and Cole hop into the room with me. I squat so Cole can fire off more rounds from above me. He empties a mag and slams in another. We can’t keep firing at this rate, or we’ll run out of ammo.

  As Roméo and Bruno sprint by, I grab Roméo. The melee is so loud that I have to scream in his face.

  “Find Sutton’s office now!” He gives me a blank look. “Sutton’s office!”

  Bruno grabs Roméo’s shoulder and drags him down the hallway, past the elevators and in the direction of the office. A few guards close in, but we give
cover fire, pushing them back down the hall. Pretty soon, they’re imbedded in rooms, trying to take shots at our heads. I’d throw a grenade, but I don’t think it’d go off fast enough before they’d toss it back at us.

  The inside of the hallway’s gutted and smells of sulfur. Dust peppers the air, making visibility almost zero. I cough and then shoot, cough more, and then shoot. Pretty soon, no one fires back. All I hear is the crunch of boots on debris and coughing from the other side. Hurry up, Roméo.

  At this point, I’m not sure how we’re going to get out now that the guards know we’re here. We could be surrounded, for all we know. I slide back into the room and watch as Cole slams in another mag. He glances at me, puts his hand on my knee, and beckons me with his eyes.

  “I’m okay,” I mouth. He nods, strokes my cheek, and then his dark eyes move back to the doorway.

  Sunlight filters in, magnifying the thick, white cloud in the hallway. Adrenaline explodes through me, despite the fact I’ve slept only four hours in the past two days. I’m keyed up, waiting in the doorway.

  Someone stumbles over a pile of crumbling tiles. He curses as he falls forward, landing on his hands about five feet from our room. He wrangles himself up and into position faster than I expect. Suddenly, he points his gun in my direction, and I wonder why Cole hasn’t yet taken this guy down. Fear ripples through me.

  “Don’t move,” I think he says. But a flash of dark fur knocks him sideways.

  Thank you, Zeus.

  I take aim and shoot the man in the side. Blood bubbles out in a slow trickle at first, but I don’t have time to stop. I flick my head around as another guard charges Cole with a knife. Pure panic erupts in me like a volcano. I grit my teeth. Before I even think of the consequences, I throw myself in front of him.

  “No!” I say.

  The figure screeches to a halt. He squints at me. His knife’s leveled at my chest. Another inch closer, and it’d be through my sternum.

  “Go ahead!” I scream at him.

  “Wish I could,” he says with slanted eyes. He pulls the knife away from my chest and tries to slash my face.

  I sidestep him, using his own arm’s momentum to shove him off balance as Cole plows bullets into his torso. Zeus tears into him, and when he’s sure he’s dead, he looks up. Blood stains his muzzle.

  I suck in oxygen, trying to catch my breath. The air is thick with dust and death. Despite my muffled hearing, I think I hear my name being called. I glance at Cole. He points with two fingers down the hallway and fires off some rounds to discourage more guards from sneaking up on him.

  “Go,” he mouths. “Stay, Zeus,” he says aloud. Zeus parks himself next to Cole like a good watchdog. Then I turn on my heel and run down the hallway.

  “Lusty!”

  Bill calls me, and this time I know I’m not imagining it. Where is that coming from? I hop over debris, steadying myself along the wall, and look around for familiar faces.

  “Lusty!” He sounds desperate.

  I ground to a stop, my feet sliding on the dust. My hands shoot out, and I catch myself before my face meets the floor. It’s like a bloody jungle gym. A trail of blood leads into a room on my left. I peek in. My hearing’s starting to clear up when I see his face.

  Bill kneels on the floor near the entrance. He shakes his head, his hands trembling. His eyes bulge, and when he motions me to come in farther, I notice his hand’s covered in blood. My heart stops.

  I don’t want to see.

  I hear more shooting in Cole’s direction, and the urge to run comes over me.

  “No! Don’t leave,” Bill says sharply. His rigid posture and trembling lips tell me something more is going on in the room. “You gotta help me.” Locking my eyes onto his face, I step in.

  At first, I only see a foot.

  A hand.

  Oh my God.

  No.

  With each step, I get a clearer image of what’s going on.

  My throat tightens.

  I cover my mouth with one hand to crush the scream that burns inside my throat.

  No, please, God. No. No. No.

  Grace lies on the floor, blood slowly amassing around her tiny frame.

  My legs give out, and I fall to her side, dropping my gun beside me.

  She whimpers with each breath, tears streaming from her eyes.

  “Oh my God. Grace, no.” I shake my head fast. This is not happening. I fling my backpack off and unzip the top zipper. My hands fumble until I find the medical kit. I’m shaking so much Bill has to open it for me.

  “Lusty, what do we do?” he asks. His face radiates pain. “You’re gonna help her, right?”

  I nod my head and use the scissors to cut away her bloodstained shirt. There’s a bullet hole on the right side of her chest right below her bra. Blood’s bubbling out of it. Oh, Grace. I pause. Hold on. Please. Just hold on.

  My eyes snap to Bill, who is blinking rapidly, holding back tears. My mind spins; I don’t know what to do for her, other than pack the wound with gauze. But what good would that do? Using the stethoscope, I listen to her injured lung. Nothing. No air moving in or out. I’m guessing her lung’s collapsed. Without medical intervention, she’s going to die, and we have nothing here to help her. No doctor. Nothing.

  My heart races so fast, it pounds in my ears. A shooting pain runs down between my shoulder blades, and I bite down on my tongue. My shoulders slump forward, and I look into Grace’s eyes.

  “How bad?” she asks. “It doesn’t hurt; it just burns.”

  The words stick in my throat. I can’t cough them out. The last thing I want is to tell her the truth, but what choice do I have? I glance down at my hands quickly, noting the blood covering my fingertips, and attempt to steady my breathing.

  “I’m not going to die, am I?” She takes a deep breath and coughs a few times. “Lexi, say something!” Her question stabs my core, smashing it with a hammer. “Lexi?”

  “Grace … I think the bullet … went through your lung.” My chest shakes because I can’t hold back my emotions. My friend is dying, and once again, I can’t do anything about it. “It’s collapsed.”

  Hopeless.

  Worthless.

  That’s what I am right now.

  Her breathing picks up pace, and she asks, “What does that mean?”

  “It’s not working.”

  Why her? It should be me, not her. She has everything to live for. A baby. A new life.

  I wipe tears with my forearm.

  “Hey, it’s okay, I still have another one … right?” Her eyes search mine, flitting back and forth between them. She’s making jokes, trying to cheer me up even now.

  “Yes, but … ”

  “Oh, dear God in heaven … I’m dying, aren’t I?”

  I swallow hard and choke out, “No! You’re not!” I gently hug her. “Just hang in there, you hear me?”

  She rubs the back of my head and says, “Okay.”

  “I’m sorry, Grace; this is all my fault,” Bill says, his voice cracking.

  “No.” She gasps. Tears spill over her eyes as she takes a few more gasps of air. “This wasn’t your fault.”

  Bill looks frantically through the medical supplies as I hold pressure to her wound.

  “What about this needle thing?” he asks, holding it in front of me.

  “I don’t know … I’m not a doctor, Bill.”

  Useless.

  Failure.

  Taking Grace’s wrist into my hand, I feel her clammy skin and take her pulse, but it’s so rapid, I don’t even bother trying to count, and that’s when she starts the dry, hacking cough.

  Her chest rises and falls faster each passing minute. Oh my God, please help her. Help me. I don’t have time to find help. She doesn’t have much time.

  “Grace, look at me.” I take her hands in mine, and her chin trembles. She bites her lip and shakes her head. There’s no holding back my tears. I’m losing her. I gag on my words, bury my face in her hand for a second, and ki
ss her cold skin. I swallow hard, clear my throat, and glance at her. Already the skin around her lips is turning bluish.

  “I need to get you to Bruno, right now. And you need to tell him.”

  “I can’t … ”

  “Yes, you can. You’re a strong woman, Grace.”

  “Lexi, whatever you do, protect my baby. I don’t want to lose him.”

  Bill’s eyes widen, and he slams his back against the wall. “What? No.” He throws his hands in the air. “Why didn’t they shoot me?”

  I reach for his hands, and he lowers them into his lap. They’re trembling, and I put a hand on his forearm for a second, silencing him with the shake of my head. We don’t have time for him to grieve just yet. She needs us to be strong.

  “Bill, listen to me. I need you to carry my stuff and cover me.”

  “Okay.”

  “Grace, I’m going to have to pick you up.”

  She nods.

  “Wait, let me take her,” Bill says, touching my arm.

  “No. I’m carrying her.” I pick her up, my right arm under her legs and my left arm cradling her back. She rests her head against my chest. Somehow, I get my legs moving and turn down the hall. My eyes fix on the doorway I need to reach. I pick up my pace and call out his name in a desperate tone.

  “Cole!”

  His footsteps echo behind me, and Zeus pants beside me before I have to say it again. My arms burn with her weight. Her head bobs against my chest.

  “Grace, stay awake,” I say. She moans in response.

  Cole’s breath catches when he sees me.

  “Shit,” he says. “How bad?”

  My eyes meet his briefly, and that’s all it takes. He closes his eyes, because he knows. I don’t need to say it out loud. He curses and then prays under his breath before saying, “How can I help?”

  “Open … the door,” I say breathlessly. I hook a right, and Sutton’s office looms in front of me. I step over the carnage of the hallway and stop at the door, panting and sweating.

  Grace is slipping away even as I hold her.

  Cole bangs on the door, pushing it open. At first, we don’t see anyone. But then I hear the rummaging of papers and boxes and know they must be in the closet.

  “Bruno?” I ask in a shaky voice.