Erasing Faith(64)

I wasn’t sure what the two of them were more surprised to see — me, standing there in the hallway, or the wall of smoke at my back, blocking every other viable exit. Marko opened his mouth to say something but before he could get a word out, Istvan grabbed hold of my wrist and pulled me in front of his body. With his free arm banded tightly around my ribs, he pressed my back to his front like a human shield. His other hand, still firmly gripping his gun, lifted so the barrel was poised against my temple.

Marko muttered a string of panicked Hungarian in Istvan’s direction, his voice laced with terror. I made out only a few words as I fought off the increasingly strong urge to cough up the smoke in my lungs. I held my breath and tried not to move.

“We don’t have time for this,” Marko hissed. “We have to get to the surveillance room exit before the fire does. Leave her, let’s go.”

Istvan turned me in his arms, gun still pressed against my temple, and looked into my eyes with such hatred it made my heart falter. Was this the same man who’d offered to take me to dinner only a week ago?

“Please,” I whispered. “Let me go, Istvan.”

“It was you,” he said, his voice cold. “You sold us out.”

“What?” I breathed, more confused than ever.

“You did this. That night after hours — I let you go. I should’ve known, then.” His eyes were crazed with fury. He shook me so hard my teeth rattled in my mouth.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I squeaked.

“How long were you working for them?” Istvan yelled in my face, spittle landing on my cheeks.

“Istvan, please.”

“Istvan,” Marko said, tugging at his partner’s sleeve.

“Shut up! Just shut up! Let me think.” Istvan had slipped over the edge of sane — I could see the madness in his eyes. There would be no reasoning with him. I heard the sound of splintering wood, and knew the fire was practically on top of us.

“Screw this, I’m getting out of here.” Marko sprinted down the hall into the smoke without another word.

Istvan watched his friend flee, then turned back to me. Lifting his gun, he brought it down on my temple so hard I fell to my knees and nearly lost consciousness. Dark spots exploded behind my eyes, even as I lifted them to look up at Istvan. Awaiting the final blow that would knock me out and seal my fate.

But he wasn’t even looking at me. His head was cocked to the side, as if listening for something. My mind, still reeling from the blow, felt sluggish as I tried to tune my ears to whatever he was hearing. I blinked a few times and the fog cleared.

Footsteps.

A lot of them, growing closer by the second. If I had to wager a guess, I’d say they were just on the other side of the door, crossing the atrium quickly. Whether they were bringing me help or harm remained to be seen.

Before I could so much as regain my feet, Istvan was gone — running toward the flames as Marko had done mere moments earlier. I scrambled upright, ignoring the pounding in my head, and cast my gaze back and forth from the door to the gathering smoke. Everything seemed to slip into slow motion as I stood there like the ghost of a girl — waiting, coughing, dying. It played out before my eyes like I was a spectator, watching the act from the sidelines.

The guard sprinting away, a cloud of smoke engulfing him like death’s embrace.

The door swinging open, men in black commando gear rushing into the hallway.

The sharp crack of bullets, loosed from the swinging barrel of the fleeing guard’s handgun.

The men shouting orders, taking cover from the fire.

The girl reacting too slow, too late.

The shock of pain, searing into flesh like a hot brand to the gut.

The blood, hot and sticky, flooding over her fingers like a river as they tried uselessly to stem its flow.

The girl, falling to her knees in a hallway, clutching her stomach with grim acceptance as the world weaved in and out of focus.

It couldn’t be me. Surely, I wasn’t that girl. Not the one there, dying in the hallway. Bleeding out on cheap carpet.

I heard more shouting, but it seemed distant now.

“Thompson! Go after those last two guards. Renley, watch his back.”

“This place is a powder-keg. Time to bail, boys. It’s too late — anything that was here won’t be salvageable. Bastards torched everything with gas as soon as they saw us coming.”

“We need body bags — we took out about six of Szekely’s men in the lobby.”

“Someone call Abbott.”

“Looks like there’s a civilian down over here. We need an ambulance.”

Someone was prodding at my stomach. It still hurt, but not like before. Everything seemed numb. Dull around the edges, like listening to someone yelling messages deep underwater.

“How you doin’ down there, darlin’?” The new voice was closer than the rest, but still seemed far away. I tried to open my eyes to look at whoever was speaking to me, but I couldn’t quite muster the strength.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you out of here,” the voice said. Hands were squeezing my abdomen like a vise. I heard the sound of fabric ripping.

I tried to nod but the tiny movement was lost as I felt my body lifted off the ground into a strong set of arms. I tried to remain conscious but I was tired — so, so tired. I was drifting away, a balloon without a tether. Everything on earth was fading as I floated into the sky.