Chapter 6 - THE CLINIC RAID
“Get down!” Marcus roared, shoving Alexander and Santiago behind a concrete structural pillar as the first security guard raised his weapon.
I threw myself onto the floor beside Santiago, pulling the boy’s head into my chest as a deafening crack echoed down the hallway. A bullet shattered the glass panel of a nearby medical cart, sending a shower of sharp crystals raining across the linoleum.
Marcus didn't hesitate. Leveraging his years of tactical training before he took the estate security job, he vaulted over the nursing station desk, sweeping his leg out and catching the first rogue guard behind the knees. The man slammed hard into the floor, his weapon clattering away across the polished tile.
The second guard raised his pistol, aiming squarely at Marcus.
Before he could pull the trigger, a heavy steel medical oxygen tank came flying through the air, hurled with terrifying precision by Alexander. It struck the guard squarely in the chest, knocking the wind out of him and sending him crashing backward into the wall. He slumped unconscious to the floor.
The emergency red lights pulsed ominously overhead.
“Roger!” Alexander roared, scrambling to his feet and sprinting toward the bank of elevators.
I handed Santiago over to Mrs. Gable, who had just arrived via the freight elevator with backup hospital staff. “Keep him safe. Don't let anyone near him.”
I sprinted after Alexander.
We reached the elevator bank just as the doors to the private service shaft began to close. Through the narrowing gap, I saw Roger frantically punching the button for the subterranean parking garage.
“The stairs!” Marcus yelled, grabbing a heavy fire door marked EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY.
We tore down the concrete stairwell, our boots slamming against the steps in a chaotic rhythm. Four floors down, we hit the heavy metal basement door and burst out into the subterranean parking garage just as Roger’s sleek silver Mercedes screeched out of its parking space.
The tires squealed against the concrete, echoing wildly through the underground garage as Roger slammed on the gas, heading straight for the exit ramp.
“He’s getting away!” I shouted.
Marcus sprinted toward a parked hospital transport van with its keys left conveniently in the ignition by a panicked courier. He wrenched the door open, shoved the gear into drive, and stomped on the accelerator.
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“Get in!” Marcus yelled over the roaring engine.
Alexander and I scrambled into the passenger seats as Marcus tore after the Mercedes, blasting out of the subterranean garage and onto the bustling Los Angeles boulevard.
