The sting of his face on my palm is like being stung by hundreds of tiny ants, but it brings back all the adrenaline and training my body spent years honing into a fighting machine. I need to trust my training, going against every instinct I have, and let him lunge at me, maybe even let him connect with something before I fight back. It is vitally important for him to step further into the cell than closer to the door.
It works.
He flails out at me, fingers digging into my skin as he rips at my shirt, yanking me closer to him. His other hand balls into a fist and makes a long arc toward my face. I turn just in time for it to land on the side of my head instead, and I crumple to the ground, partially because of the force of the hit and partially to lull him further. He lords over me, his shoulders raised and wide, doing his best to intimidate me into submission.
I look up, tears welling in my eyes.
“Please,” I half-whisper, and a smirk crosses his lips.
“Please, don’t–“ I begin, but don’t finish.
Instead, I leap up, smashing my fist in his unprotected jaw, uppercutting him hard and sending him sprawling to the ground. I leap onto his chest and smash my fist in his face again, and he turns, trying to get onto his knees. I roll against the turn and wrap myself around his back, pulling my arms around his neck in a choke.
He gurgles and claws at my arms, but I have the hold locked in, and slowly his fighting subsides. A few seconds of no movement let me know he is out, and I release him, letting his head thud against the ground hard. He’s still breathing, but out cold, and it gives me enough time to try to escape.
I stand up, taking a second to catch my breath. I poke my head out of the cell door and look down the hallway. It’s empty. I break for it, going the direction I remember being brought, and slam the cell door behind me. I hear it click into place as I get a few steps away.
I dart up the steps two at a time for a floor and round a corner. I get up to an entrance but press myself against the wall, carefully scanning the hall before. No one is there, but I don’t trust it. The shadows are long and dark, and I could be being monitored on security cameras somewhere. I have to keep hidden as best as possible and move quickly.
I duck behind a couch, making my way across the room and to the door on the far side. I place my ear against it and hear a voice, faint in the distance, as if the person was walking away. There is no echo, which tells me this door leads to the outside. I wait until the voices have disappeared and open the door as carefully and quietly as I can.
The cool breeze of the evening rushes in, chilling the beads of sweat running down my back. I step out into the courtyard and try to orient myself. The door has led me to an area I briefly remember seeing when I was here earlier with Sam. It must be the back door of The Tower.
I slide behind some bushes against the building and breathe to calm myself. I need to stay focused and not let the adrenaline cause me to do anything stupid. I have to get help to me, rather than try to escape the compound.
I stay there for several long minutes. All I need to do is wait and stay out of sight. Eric and Creagan are coming to get me. Aren’t they? Eric got all my information. What’s taking them so long?
I duck down even lower when another pair of men pass by. My heart is hammering. Another minute passes, and then another. But I can’t wait any longer. For all I know, it could still be hours before they show up, and I don’t have that kind of time. I have to find some way out of here. Now.
An idea pops into my head, and I run for the row of cars parked behind The Tower. My hands slam onto the drivers’ side window of the nearest car. A sleek, brand new model. Exactly what I’m looking for. No keyhole for the ignition, which means it’s activated by key fob. A car like this has got to be equipped with a variety of safety measures. My eyes slide over the dash and to the mirror. It has a button on it, large and white. An emergency button. One connected to GPS and EMS. Perfect.
I turn and look around frantically for something I can smash the window with. Anything that could break through the glass will do. There are no large rocks or poles or anything lying around, so I scope out a little farther. Finally, the moon shifts, giving me more visibility, illuminating my way ahead. And then I see it.
On the side of The Tower, just yards from the parking lot is a gardener’s shed. And it is open.
I run to it and grab a sledgehammer hanging on the wall. I snatch it from its place, heave it onto my shoulder, and run back to the car. I look around one last time, making sure the area is empty and noting where I will hide once I get this done, and then I hoist the hammer into the air.
“You smash mine. I’ll smash yours,” I mutter.
With a hard swing, I crash through the window, sending a loud wail of a siren into the air. I scramble into the car, slamming my hand on the button. A pleasant voice announces itself and asks what my emergency is.
“This is FBI agent Emma Griffin,” I tell her as quickly and clearly as I can and rattle off my badge number. “Requesting immediate assistance at this location, repeat, immediate assistance, I am on the scene of multiple homicides and in imminent danger.”
Before the voice on the other end can answer me, I run to my hiding spot, diving beneath some bushes on the building next to The Tower. I can still hear the faint sound of the emergency responder asking for me through the car speakers, but I can’t call out to answer now. I just hope she’ll pass along the message.
I nestle further into the shadows, peering out directly at The Tower. With a slow creak, the back door opens. I brace myself, holding a deep breath.
But I let it out. It isn’t Ian or any of the men. It’s the frail form of a woman. She stumbles out and tries to run, but her feet tangle under her, and she hits the ground. I rush out of my hiding spot and scoop my arms under hers, pulling her up as best I can so I can drag her with me to the hiding spot.
“Please,” she whispers. “Please, help me. Please.”
“I’m here,” I tell her. “I’ve got you.”
“Take me with you.”
Her voice has nothing behind it, like the words are made up of breath and thought. Her eyes flutter closed, and her body sags against me.
“I have you. But you have to stay awake. Come on. Stay with me. We can’t stay right here. We have to move toward the gate.”
She nods weakly and manages to get to her feet. With me supporting her, she moves with me toward the shed. We get behind it just as I hear men shouting from The Tower. Ruth’s voice rises above it.
“Find her. I want her brought to me.”
The woman starts to sob, and I hold her closer, trying to quiet her.
“It’s going to be fine. We just need to keep moving. Come on. Tell me where to go next. You know this place,” I say.
“The fountain,” she finally manages.
I look around the other side of the shed. A short distance away, I see a fountain; its water turned off for the night.
“Okay. When I tell you, you need to run as fast as you can. I’m here to help you. Alright?”
She nods.
“Everything is going to be okay,” I tell her again. I really hope it will be.
I see the men now. They rush for the car I smashed, gathering around it and shouting at each other. We need to take advantage of their distraction. “Now.”
I run and drag the girl with me to the fountain. It casts a dark shadow on the ground, and we hunker down into it. We’re closer to the gate now, but not as close as I want to be. The girl is fading again. Her head lolls to the side, and she lets out a groan. All I can imagine is Everly and the strength it took to get out of here.
“Talk to me,” I whisper. “Stay with me. Talk to me. What’s your name?”