The sound of the men breaking through the door echoed through the entire mansion. It curved up the stairs and haunted the countless corridors. They had entered, they were here, and you best stay out of their way.
Mary hurried over to Ellie and pulled the girl close against her bosom. Together they walked toward the corner where the maids were sitting and joined them on the floor.
“Don’t be afraid, Ellie,” Mary whispered to her as she stroked the girl’s hair. “Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid.”
Ellie knew that Mary’s new mantra was as much for herself as for Ellie’s benefit. Still, she found a strange comfort in the strong woman’s arms. Sitting like this, shielded by a woman much bigger and stronger than she was, almost felt like having a mother again.
Reality struck Ellie’s mind when gunshots started to echo through the air. They tore at the girl’s soul and her body froze up. A mortal fear gripped her throat and choked the life out of her.Then, violent roars echoed through the mansion.
“Who the fuck is that?!”
“Where is he coming from?!”
“Huddle up! Huddle up!”
And then Agent Bradford’s voice. “Hold him off me! Just hold him off me! We only need the girl!”
More gunshots ruptured the air, followed by shouts carried in an undertone of shock and confusion.
“Stokely?! Stokely?! He fucking got Stokely!”
“We’re sitting ducks here! This house is a fucking maze!”
Agent Bradford’s voice. “Move forward! We’re not leaving without the girl!”
A single pair of footsteps came running up the stairs. It echoed through the hallway and when it neared the bedroom Ellie’s heart almost exploded.
He was here. A man with a gun. A man that wasn’t afraid to kill. A man that was so powerful, none of the women in the room would be able to resist him. He would kick in the door, he would see them, hate them, and fill their weak bodies with countless bullets. Ellie’s death was on the floor, in the corner of a bedroom, huddled up with Mary Holsworth.
Somebody yanked at the door, concluded it was locked, and moved on to the next room.
Mary whispered in Ellie’s ear, “It’s okay…. It’s okay…. We’re safe here. They won’t get in here….”
Slowly Ellie shook her head. She had believed in Jane Elring but, underneath the horrible pressure of the gunshots and the violent shouting, that faith was quickly deserting her.
Agent Bradford ran through the hallway on the second floor, pulling at doors left and right. He knew that the room he was looking for wouldn’t be locked. Jane Elring had wanted a confrontation and she wouldn’t skip out on him now.
Downstairs the gunshots ripped through the air. Excited voices boomed through the mansion.
Stokely was dead; Agent Bradford had known it as soon as he saw him hit the ground. Which meant there were now four left. Three, really, because Jones had taken a bullet to the knee that shattered most of his leg.
Agent Bradford went from door to door until he reached the end of the hallway. There he found the last room on this side of the second floor. He pulled the handle, felt that it budged underneath the weight of his grip, and opened the door. Immediately his hand slipped into his pocket.
He stepped inside and found Jane Elring standing in the middle of the room. Her face was bloody, with red stains across her lips and cheeks, and he could only guess at what kind of strain she had put on herself. The girl’s eyes were a deep red, full of tears, and entirely exhausted. This was easy pickings, Agent Bradford thought.
Another round of gunshots sounded from downstairs and this time the voices that followed could no longer mask their concern.
“Captain?! Captain?! He shot the captain! This is insane! We have to get the fuck out of here!”
“No, I shot him! I drew blood! I know it!”
Agent Bradford pulled his mind away from the events downstairs, events that he could barely reconstruct.
Jane said with a tired and broken voice, “Only two left. He might actually do it….”
Agent Bradford shook his head. “This is fucking crazy! How many people have to die so you can get what you want?”
The special agent saw no emotion on the girl’s bloodstained face. He saw only the ghastly red stare that never seemed to waver.
“Tell me! How many have to fucking die, you selfish piece of shit?!”
It was then that he noticed the office chair in the corner of the room. It stood next to the window and on it sat the pale corpse of Arthur Toaves.
“You’ve lost it…. You’ve completely lost it. What did he ever do to you?! Why the fuck did you have to kill him?!”
Jane Elring said nothing and Agent Bradford wasn’t sure why. Was she unable to speak because the blood flowing from her brain flooded her throat? Or did she consider him so unimportant that she wouldn’t waste any more words on him?
Jane Elring’s rusty voice ignored his thoughts. “Agent Bradford… Just push the button….”
He wouldn’t let her get off that easy. Agent Bradford wanted an explanation. He demanded one. Not receiving an explanation would only underscore how poorly he felt about himself right now.
He had sent a group of five men into this forsaken building, only for three to be gunned down by the bodyguard he had vastly underestimated. His miscalculation, his mistake.
Jane said with a broken voice, “You… you give me a monster’s abilities. Then, when I use them to get what you take for granted—my freedom, a life of my own—I am the bad guy.
“I am very tired, Agent Bradford… and I don’t want to talk about it anymore. You’ll never understand and that’s okay…. I don’t hate you for it. I… forgive you.
“Please just… push the button?”
Agent Bradford looked at her bloodstained face one last time. He looked at the dead Arthur Toaves sitting in the corner of the room. He listened to the gunshots that came from downstairs and the panicked yells that followed them.
He had to move now. They wouldn’t be able to hold the bodyguard off forever.
Agent Bradford took the button from his pocket and held it out in front of him. All his anger, all his frustration, all his undeniable rage would explode into one single movement of his finger.
He pushed the button and a terrible scream came from Jane Elring’s bloody mouth. It was a scream filled with pain and fear. A pain he wanted her to feel. A fear he wanted her to experience. Agent Bradford wanted Jane Elring to be afraid, because he had always been afraid of her.
He watched as the girl collapsed and fell face-first to the ground.
Agent Bradford hurried over to her and picked her up. She was such a lightweight that it took him almost no effort.
Two more gunshots fired through the air and then all went silent. They weren’t followed by shouting. There was no sound of victory. Agent Bradford was afraid to guess at what it meant but deep down inside he already knew.
Caleb wasn’t feeling very well. They’d got him pretty good.
His right arm dangled next to his body; it was swollen and bloody and he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to use it again. He thought there might be muscle damage.
He’d got them pretty good, too. Three were dead. Two were incapacitated. Caleb didn’t know how, but he had somehow been the victor.
No time to celebrate, though. His blood loss meant that he could collapse any minute now and there was still the special agent to contend with. After that, if he got that far, he still had to drive out of here. Caleb had no idea how he was going to pull any of it off.