“And I’ll be there to lend you one,” she assured him.
They shook then, a normally informal act which somehow held a powerful level of poignancy. Johnny had probably spent most of his life thinking about no one but himself. But when push came to shove, he was top-notch.
Holly was busy helping get Dillon’s things together when Dakota approached.
“Is it time?” Holly asked.
Dakota nodded. “You and Dillon go first. Five minutes later, it’ll be Amy, followed five minutes later by Lauren, the boys and the others.”
“What about you?”
“I’m last,” Dakota said. “Who do you think will be waving everyone on like a third base coach?”
Holly laughed and hugged her. “You’re wise beyond your years.”
“Wisdom comes from pain,” the girl said. “And I’ve had my fair share.”
“You and me both,” Holly replied as she watched Dakota turn and head to her designated position.
Holly gathered Dillon and headed for the southern platform.
“See you around, neighbor,” Brenda said, giving her the thumbs up. Holly returned the gesture.
After crossing from one platform to another, Holly spotted the others, sitting in their regular places. Their anxiety hung in the air about them like a fine mist, their faces wrought with tension.
Ahead was a narrow space―no more than two feet wide―at the end of the platform between the train and the wall. Beyond that point lay the subway tracks and one of the original objectives of this entire journey, Nate Bauer.
Dakota was leaning against the wall, scanning in the opposite direction for guards and anyone else who might give them away. The girl’s left hand dangled at her side. A small wiggle of her fingers there told Holly it was time to go. She climbed through first, throwing her suitcase onto the tracks below. She did the same with Dillon’s bag and then helped them both down. It was difficult and felt awkward, but they had made it. Now came the hard part, waiting around to help the others.
A few moments later, Amy was next, struggling to squeeze her swollen belly through the tight opening.
“Are you okay?” Holly asked, when Amy was down on the tracks next to her.
Amy ran her hands over her stomach. “A little scratched up, but no worse for wear.”
Lauren and the boys came next. That was when Holly heard loud voices from the platform. She went and propped herself up to see what was going on.
An older man was asking Carl and Liz where everyone was going. Dakota was telling him to mind his own business, but he didn’t seem to like being told to keep quiet by someone so young.
Holly helped Liz and Carl, who had opted to skip the drama and push on, climb down.
“That jerk’s gonna give us away,” Carl said, his cheeks flushed.
In the distance, a guard was heading toward them. Holly noticed his head perk up as he keyed in on the commotion. Dakota locked eyes with Holly and signaled for them to leave.
“She wants us to go,” Holly said.
Amy shook her head, adamant. “We aren’t leaving without her.”
Unburdened by any sense of loyalty, Lauren was already heading down the tracks. “Can’t she just catch up once the guard moves on?”
“You go,” Holly told them. “And take Dillon with you. Dakota and I will catch up.”
Emmitt removed his phone and cupped his light, giving them enough to navigate by without announcing their presence in the tunnel. Holly watched them recede into darkness as the argument above became more heated. The old guy wasn’t letting it go, while Dakota was trying to convince the guard the man was crazy and didn’t know what he was talking about. Predictably, this only infuriated the man even more.
Now the guard was playing referee, trying to untangle competing accusations. The man was pointing to the space the others had crawled through. Holly knew she had to move fast or risk being seen. The guard started heading her way, reaching into his utility belt for a flashlight.
Holly sprinted to the other side of the train, wedging herself between the wall and the wheel assembly.
The guard leaned into the tunnel, swinging his light around. In the distance, the sight of Emmitt’s flashlight was hardly visible. But hardly wasn’t good enough. The guard raised his flashlight, the beam swallowed in the tunnel’s darkness. “Hey,” he shouted in surprise and alarm as he began to raise his rifle. Holly stepped out, reaching into her jacket for her pistol. She was in the middle of pulling back the slide when the heel of Dakota’s boot struck the guard from behind, sending him pinwheeling onto the tracks below. He landed with a loud crack as his skull struck a support slab, killing him.
Holly ran over, grabbing his rifle and flashlight. Dakota slid through the opening and hopped down. From above came the harried voice of the man shouting for help. He ran to the opening and peered through. If they did nothing, he would direct every guard in the subway station after them. Holly raised her pistol and shot him in the head. His limp body fell next to the guard.
After that, pandemonium broke out on the southbound platform. Together, Holly and Dakota hurried along the tracks, aiming for the light up ahead. With her fear spiking, Holly’s mind was a flurry of frantic activity. Why had she shot the old man? To give them time to escape or had she simply lost her temper?
They ran for what felt like forever, fighting to keep their footing in this strange environment, only partially lit by the bobbing light in Holly’s hand. When at last they reached the others, the group turned toward them.
“We heard a gun go off,” Carl said, wheezing for air. “Did the guard fire at you?”
“He was about to,” Dakota said, without elaborating. She and Holly exchanged a knowing look. “Washington Station’s still a ways,” Dakota told them, pulling ahead. “We better hurry. The rest of the guards are surely close behind.”
“Perhaps closer than you think,” a strange voice said from out of the darkness. Laser pointers cut through the still air, illuminating each and every one of them. “Place your weapons on the ground or I’ll have you all killed. Do it now!”
There had to be at least ten of them. And Dakota and Holly were the only ones armed.
Slowly, they set their weapons down and raised their hands. A man in a sleek black suit stepped into the light. Apart from a missing left ear, his face was ruggedly handsome and distinctly European.
“Wise decision,” he told them, as two guards rushed forward and seized the guns they had dropped. The source of his accent was quickly becoming clear. He was probably Russian. And the expensive suit only boosted her suspicion he was an organized crime boss. “I’m afraid none of you were given permission to leave the shelter. There are rules and when rules are broken, chaos ensues.” In the distance, the faint sound of cries could be heard. “My operation was running just fine before this little stunt. I’m a businessman, which is to say, I’m very reasonable. I understand you would like to leave. I also understand you likely don’t have the fees required to purchase your freedom. That’s not a problem. If any of the women would like to pay with services, that can be deducted from what you owe. But as of now, whatever you thought you needed to pay has just tripled.”
Amy winced, holding Emmitt close to her.
“Except for the pregnant lady, of course,” he said, as if to reassure them. “Because we may be many things, but monsters we are not.” He turned to the guard standing next to him. “Dimitri, take them―”
Just then, Dimitri’s radio came to life, babbling in a foreign language none but the mobsters understood. He turned to his boss. “Sergei, Lev is dead. They found his body on the tracks.”
“Perhaps that was the shot we heard?”
Dimitri shook his head. “No, they executed an old man who was trying to report them.”