Shavian screamed again, but there was a different tone to it, and everyone stopped to stare at the door. They exchanged looks among them, except Higgins who rocketed to his feet, sober in a twinkling. He leaned over Elliott and banged his fist against the door.
It opened, and Shavian was framed against the setting sun.
“Military!” she exclaimed, pointing behind her. “The military just pulled up! I saw them from the roof!” Her eyes were wide.
Elliott leapt to his feet, his heart pounding, reaching out for Shavian’s hand. She pulled away and stumbled drunkenly backwards, catching herself on the doorjamb. Elliott was too scared to be sad, but he was going to feel the sting of that later. “Come on everyone, we have to get out of here before they find us! We can’t get trapped here.”
Higgins nodded his agreement and waved everyone down the stairwell, bringing up the rear. They’d re-armed themselves when they returned from the Oregon border, and Elliott realized they’d all done it without even thinking. It was habit now.
Their footsteps echoed off the bare concrete walls of the stairwell as they trotted downward.
“Three armored tank looking things,” Shavian panted. “Fully loaded. A fourth for…transport.” Prisoner transport. She didn’t say it but they all heard it nonetheless. “I couldn’t tell from this high up but it doesn’t look like they’re in the building yet.”
“I still do not understand what your problem is with the military,” Aubrey exclaimed. “We might be safer with them.”
“Not safe, and not free,” Roger said, over his shoulder.
“What is it with you Scots and freedom?” she asked jokingly.
“Don’t bring up that movie with me…Ever.” He shuddered.
They were getting used to doing things as a tactical unit. Things seemed strangely quiet.
“They’ll probably be at the main entrance,” Aubrey whispered. “What do you think the best way out of here is?”
They all paused. Junie, Elliott, Roger and Shavian all exchanged looks. “Loading dock,” they all said as one.
“This way,” Aubrey said. “I know some back ways through the hotel that avoid the main areas.”
“Good lass,” Roger said, smiling at her. She returned it and followed closely behind Higgins who continued to check corners before giving the all-clear, directing him while she guided them.
Something was nagging at the back of Elliott’s mind. He kept expecting them to turn a corner and find an entire Seal Team waiting with water boards and iron maidens, or whatever they used for torture these days. But they didn’t: there were virtually no sounds coming from anywhere, though they were admittedly far (and getting further) from the main areas of the hotel where most of the people would be gathered. Aubrey led them into the kitchen and then back out, down another hallway and then they were face to face with the swinging doors of the warehouse. Higgins peered through and then waved them all on, his gun at the ready, holding the rear position.
The report of gunshots, at last, blasted out from somewhere in the hotel and Elliott jumped only a little. Hell, was he also getting used to hearing guns? Scary thought.
Roger raced ahead through the warehouse, the others close behind him, everyone now expecting an attack at every turn. Maybe their luck now was finally turning. Remembering their last experience with this receiving bay, Elliott waited until everyone had checked their ammo and was aimed at the door before hitting the button to lift it.
“Wait!” Aubrey cried. She walked over to Roger and put her hands on his chest. “Rog, my place is here. I can’t go with you.”
To Elliott’s surprise, Roger actually looked crestfallen; he cleared his throat and nodded, his eyes down. But when Aubrey jumped up, twining her arms around his neck and kissing him, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back.
When they at last separated, Roger looked a little dazed but he nodded at Elliott to push the button.
The door lifted, and there was an entire military unit waiting for them on the other side. No visible torture devices but plenty of raised guns.
An older man with thinning brown hair, green eyes and an air of command stood at the front of the crowd, the sleeves of his BDUs rolled up to reveal ropy muscles gone only a little to seed.
“You’re outgunned,” he said matter-of-factly. “I think it’s about time you folks come with us for your own safety.”
Standing next to him, looking smug and managing to glare at them at the same time, was Jackson. He nodded to the commander and said, “What did I tell you? Loading dock.”