Second Honeymoon

Chapter 97

WE GATHERED IN a horseshoe formation around the bed. I was on one end, Sarah was on the other.

“Grab the corner,” she said.

We each took hold of the top sheet, then lifted it up and back. I didn’t know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t what I saw.

What the…

It looked like oxygen tanks, the kind scuba divers wear. There were a half dozen of them lying down the length of the bed.

“What’s that writing on the side there?” asked the officer standing next to me.

I tilted my head to read the small print, only to be blinded by a ray of sunlight beaming off the metallic cylinders.

“Hey, will someone drop the blinds?” I asked. They were pulled all the way up, every inch of the windows exposed.

“Got it,” said another officer. He was a young Italian guy, his jet-black hair combed straight back. As he turned toward the window, his body blocked the sun for a second, just long enough for me to look back at the print along the tank closest to me. Only it didn’t say OXYGEN.

Oh, no! No! No! No!

But it was already too late.

The first shot smashed through the window, catching the young officer square in the chest, an explosion of blood and bone.

The second shot split the head of the officer next to Sarah.

“Down! Everyone down!”

But that’s what she wanted, everyone out of the way, now that she had us together. These were no ordinary bullets she was firing; they were large-caliber and incendiary.

In other words, just right for exploding a propane tank.

The third shot would’ve killed us all if it hadn’t been for someone bumping the bed as he dropped to the floor. That jostled the tanks just enough. The shell ripped through the box springs, but didn’t hit a tank.

I lunged for the queen-size mattress. I could feel the stitches in my shoulder ripping apart as I lifted as fast and hard as I could.

The tanks went flying, clanking onto the hardwood floor, rolling in every direction.

“Everybody out!” I yelled. “Now!”

The next shot echoed amid the mad dash from the bedroom, but there was no blast. She hadn’t hit one of the rolling tanks.

The entrance to the hallway was like a narrow, unforgiving funnel as we tried to clear the living room outside the bedroom. Feet scrambling, arms flailing, everyone was literally running for their lives.

I was last in line, Sarah right in front of me. If we could just make it out of the apartment before the next shot, then maybe, just maybe, we might be okay.

KABOOM!