Chapter 4 - Escape Through the Service Wing
The confined space of the trauma suite erupted into a deafening roar of gunfire. Flashes of amber light illuminated the sterile white walls as Alessandro and Viktor unleashed a coordinated volley of suppressive fire toward the doorway.
Two masked assailants crumpled instantly, tumbling backward into the hallway and dragging a mobile IV pole down with a clatter of metal. The remaining intruders scrambled for cover behind the vending machines and structural pillars in the corridor, returning fire with high-caliber submachine guns. Chunks of drywall exploded into fine white dust, and the glass partition of the observation booth spider-webbed before shattering entirely.
“Suppressing fire! Keep them pinned!” Viktor bellowed, firing three rapid shots through the shattered door frame.
I clamped my hands over Logan’s ears, pressing my eyes shut as the acrid smell of cordite and burnt gunpowder filled the air. My ears were ringing so loudly that the world seemed muted, reduced to vibrations and flashes of light.
“Catherine! Now!” Alessandro shouted over the din.
I opened my eyes to see Alessandro gesturing frantically toward a secondary, internal service door at the back of the suite—a staff-only exit leading toward the hospital’s laundry chutes and service elevators.
Scooping Logan back into my arms, I sprinted across the room, ducking low as a stray bullet punched a clean, neat hole through the metal cabinet mere inches above my head. Viktor held the rear guard, firing methodical, controlled bursts down the hall while backing up step-for-step toward our exit.
We burst through the service door into a dimly lit concrete corridor lined with industrial linen carts. The hum of massive HVAC units vibrated through the floorboards.
“Where does this go?” I gasped, gasping for air as I jogged alongside Alessandro, whose face had gone dangerously pale from exertion, fresh blood beginning to seep through the dark leather of his coat.
“Sub-level three,” Alessandro grunted, pressing a button to summon a freight elevator. “From there, we have a private tunnel connecting to the parking garage. My extraction team should be waiting.”
“And David?” I demanded, stopping abruptly and blocking the elevator door. “You said he’s alive. You didn't just bring me down here to use as a shield, right? Where is he?”
Alessandro stopped, wincing as a wave of pain clearly wracked his stitched-up torso. He looked down at me, his expression unreadable, before reaching into his coat pocket once more. This time, he didn't pull out a weapon. He pulled out a worn, leather-bound notebook and a small, encrypted satellite phone.
He tossed the phone to me. It buzzed in my hand immediately, the screen lighting up with an incoming video call.
My hands shook violently as I pressed the green accept button.
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The screen flickered, grainily resolving into a dimly lit warehouse filled with server racks. And there, standing in front of a bank of glowing monitors with a look of absolute, soul-crushing shock on his face, was a man I had mourned for two years.
“Cathy?” David’s voice crackled through the tiny speaker, raspy and disbelieving. “Oh god... Cathy, is that really you? Where’s Logan?”
