A few seconds later, Amanda felt Carmen move behind her. Amanda realized that the Italian was reaching into her coat. Seconds later, a loud blast reverberated off of the walls.
As screams broke out, Carmen shouted in French at the top of her lungs, “He has a gun!”
What happened next could only be described as sheer pandemonium. People threw aside any semblance of courtesy or decorum, pushing and clawing at those around them in order to push back up the steps. The mob was so panicked that the upper portion of the stairs became clogged, and progress slowed to a standstill.
As the mob continued to push upwards, Carmen yanked Amanda down the stairs against the flow. Amanda stayed close behind the Italian, who was violently shoving people out of the way.
When they reached the bottom, Carmen turned right and entered a cave. The main room was hewn out of rock, and the ceiling was braced with stone archways through which there were several other rooms. “Where in the heck are we?” asked Amanda.
The screaming continued in the stairwell. Carmen waited until the final person had left the room before responding. “A medieval prison. Quick, over here.”
Amanda followed her to an opening that had likely served as a window in the Middle Ages. It was rectangular, two feet wide, and ran through the ten-foot stone wall to the exterior of the castle.
She shook her head. “You’re not seriously—”
“I am. Get up there before those guys get here.”
Just the mention of the men set Amanda into motion. Using a boost from Carmen, she climbed into the opening. There was barely enough room for her to wiggle forward through the slot. “What’s on the other side?”
“Rocks. Keep moving.”
When she was about halfway through, Carmen scrambled up and followed her.
“Stop it! What are you doing?” shouted a lady from the stairwell. Her question was followed by a gunshot and more screaming.
Soon thereafter, Amanda heard two voices speaking in Russian. Looking back, she saw that Carmen kept her gun pointed back toward the room.
When Amanda finally reached the other end, she found herself looking out over the lake. At first she thought they might have to jump in and swim, but she remembered what Carmen had said about the rocks. The rocks below formed the foundation of the castle. There was an area of about two feet on which to land, which gave very little room for error.
Realizing that the more she thought about it, the worse it would get, Amanda said a quick prayer and hopped out, trying to keep her feet flat for landing. When she hit the rock ledge, she teetered before regaining her balance. Thank you, dear Lord.
A few moments later, Amanda looked up and saw Carmen gesturing for her to move over.
With agility that would put a Siamese cat to shame, the Italian landed softly on both feet without the slightest bit of teetering. “Go. That way,” she said, pointing to the left.
Amanda turned and began to walk gingerly across the rock foundation, which curved around the side of the castle.
Carmen didn’t like being so exposed. If the pursuers discovered their escape route, they’d be sitting ducks. But in the end it was their only choice. She could’ve waited and tried to shoot it out with the Russians, but there was no telling who else might get killed in the process.
“How far are we from the front?” Amanda asked.
“You’re doing great. Just keep moving.”
After a final turn, the rock foundation came to an end. To their left was the front entrance of the castle, where chaos had broken out. People flooded the covered bridge, yelling and screaming. With the proliferation of mobile phones, Carmen knew it would only be a matter of minutes before the police showed up. That could be good or bad, but she didn’t want to stick around to find out what the bad might entail.
“Are we walking on that?” Amanda asked, pointing toward a low concrete wall that ran across the water to the parking area. The top of the wall was narrow, almost like a balance beam used by gymnasts.
“We are.” Carmen hopped onto it and directed Amanda to do likewise. Despite the difficultly in staying balanced, they made it to the other end and jumped off onto solid ground. “This way.” They ran across a landscaped garden toward the eastern end of the parking lot. When they arrived, the Italian stopped at a motor scooter rack. Amanda saw a key in the ignition of the closest one, but like all of the other scooters, it was affixed to the iron rail with a lock.
“I think our luck just ran out,” Amanda said.
“Fortunately, we’re not relying on luck.”
Carmen lifted her gun, pointed it at the lock, and fired, blasting the cheap metal into pieces. “Get on.” She ripped the chain off the bike and tossed it aside.
As the two mounted the bike, shouting could be heard from the front of the castle. The gunshot had drawn the attention of the goons, who had broken from the crowd and were sprinting in their direction.
Carmen turned the key to the right and made sure the kill switch was in the Run position before pressing the Start button. The motor coughed and sputtered in response but then died.
Lovely, she muttered.
Two more shots rang out, and one of them glanced off the nearby rail. Amanda screamed and ducked her head.
Carmen could hear the steps of the men running across the pavement. She pressed the Start button a second time. The motor coughed and sputtered longer, only to die once again. “Really? Davvero?”
Yet another shot rang out and ricocheted off the plastic fender on the front. The question was not if they’d be hit, but when they’d be hit. Even a running man could hit a stationary target if he got close enough. Letting loose a string of expletives in Italian, Carmen pressed the Start button a third time. If it failed, she’d have no choice but to turn and fight. There was more coughing and, after a moment of silence, a loud popping from the muffler as the engine hummed to life.
“Ti amo!” she exclaimed as she patted the plastic casing below the handlebars.
Two more shots rang out, but Carmen refused to look back. Not feeling any hits to her body and hearing no reaction from Amanda, she twisted the throttle, and the scooter jumped in response. As they sped off, Carmen knew that it would be more than fast enough to elude pursuers on foot.
At the exit, the Italian leaned into the turn, her long hair flapping in the air. She twisted the throttle once again, guiding the scooter out of the parking lot and onto the highway. As they sped away, she heard sirens in the distance. For the first time that day, the hint of a smile crossed her face.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
At first there was only black, the deepest black in which the eye can discern no difference. Then pinpoints of gray appeared, so small that the man couldn’t tell if they were truly gray or just lighter patches of black.
Shortly after, the points of gray began to move, eventually growing into patches that blended together to form shapes. The man had the vague sensation of blinking, and the more he blinked, the more vivid the shapes became. They were faces that closed in from all around. They seemed familiar, as though he had seen them before, but he didn’t truly know them.
Eventually, the faces began to fuse together like a morning fog, and as the fog began to clear, a single face came into view. The face was that of an Asian woman. Perhaps Japanese, perhaps Korean, he really couldn’t say. The lines of the face were beautiful and smooth, almost perfect. And then the face spoke, “Are you there?”
The man blinked, unsure if the image in front of him was real.