I dropped and reloaded with ease, not questioning his count.
“When I tell you to go, run for the house, we’ll cover you.” He was talking while letting off rounds in the direction of muzzle flashes.
I turned, staying low, and readied myself to run to the house.
Once inside the house, I would be able to get to the armory of weapons Arjen had in the basement, spot the enemy using the security monitors and sensors, and help take out what they couldn’t see.
“Go now, Mecca!” Arjen shouted. His voice carried above the broken drumbeats of constant gun blasts. With my sights set on the front door, I took off like a bat out of hell, my finger kissing HB’s trigger, ready to release hot led if necessary.
Breaths getting away from me, I crouched low and twisted the doorknob with the strength of a linebacker. The air of danger behind me was like a person chasing me with a gun aimed at my back, but I knew it was my mind readying me for what may have strayed my way.
I tumbled into the living room, leaving the door open. There was no need to close it because anyone that wasn’t Arjen or his men were getting their brains blown out. I ran in the direction of the armory-security room, my hip bumping the couch in my haste and making me grunt.
When I turned the sharp corner into the small nook that would lead me down to the room, the air in my lungs released on a loud suffocating gasp. I had shoved HB down the back of my pants, assuming I was safe inside the house.
Standing in front of the door that led down to the security room was a graying, thin man dressed head to toe in black tactical gear. He stood as tall as Arjen, but was gangly like a starved dog. His haggard face with its sunken jaws was oddly familiar.
The nine-millimeter he aimed at my head was gripped tight by his boney fingers. His exploring eyes and sadistic smirk revealed part of the evil that lurked within him.
I didn’t need my danger senses to know that this man was pure evil, the kind that made me a saint when I was far from one. He was the kind of evil that tortured kids and small animals.
“Turn around,” he hissed between rotten and broken teeth. His voice was cast low, but the sound was like glass raking over my skin.
He had a deep and vicious scar across his throat like he was hung before and died, but even Death had turned him away. He was clearly blind in one eye, the sight reminding me of the original Terminator after he had surgically removed his prosthetic eye and revealed the cybernetic one.
“Turn the fuck around. I won’t say it again.” His eyes twitched like raising his voice had spurred a nervous tick.
“I’d rather face my death, you mangy diseased-looking asshole.” I spat what was likely my last words at him. I was a stubborn bitch, unwilling to bend to death no matter how it was presented. The itch to reach back and grab HB was so intense my hands shook.
His smile deepened and turned from sinister to teasing. With the speed of a striking cobra, it took him two quick steps to reach out and grip my arm. He swiveled me around with a strength that didn’t match his frail body.
A sinister laugh climbed out of his throat while he slung a boney arm around my neck. He jerked HB from the back of my pants, and his arm tightening around me was like being wrapped in razor wire.
Why the fuck were we just standing there, breathing and listening to the cadence of gunfire? The notion hit me that the monster behind me knew why I had come into the house. He didn’t want me to help the men.
He waited until the sound of gunfire lessened before he proceeded to shove me back towards the living room.
“Arjen! Arjen!”
His loud yell detonated like a boom, rumbling throughout the house. How was Arjen supposed to hear him yelling with weapons fire still sounding off?
Like the men were connected to his mind, the gunfire ceased. The silence hung heavily in the air, a willing participant in the chaotic drama unfolding. Arjen, along with two of his men stormed into the living room, M4’s jammed into their shoulders, aimed and primed to take down whoever and whatever.