The Edge of Armageddon

CHAPTER THIRTY

Together, they passed through the still swinging front doors of the sports shop and into its vast, silent interior. Displays, shelving and clothes racks stood everywhere, along every aisle. Lighted tiles provided illumination, set up in the open-framework ceiling. Hayden stared at the reflective white floor and saw dust-smeared footprints leading into the heart of the store. Hurrying along she checked her mag and righted her vest. A face peeking out from under a clothes fixture made her flinch, but the fear etched into the features urged her to soften.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “Stay low and keep quiet.”

She didn’t have to ask for directions. Though they could follow the dirty footprints the noises ahead betrayed the positions of their targets. Price’s constant groans were an added boon. Hayden brushed under a metal arm full of leggings and squeezed around a bald dummy wearing a Nike running outfit into an area reserved for gym equipment. Barbell stands, weight trays, trampolines and treadmills lined up in uniform rows. Just passing into another section were the terrorist group.

One man saw her, raised a warning, and opened fire. Hayden ran hard and at an angle, hearing a bullet zing off the metal arm of a rower only inches to her left. Kinimaka jumped aside, landing heavily on the conveyor section of a treadmill and rolling through the gap. Hayden returned the legionnaire’s compliment, perforating a shelf of trainers above his head.

The man inched back as his colleagues spread out. Hayden threw a pink sports bag into the air to test their numbers, making a face when four separate shots took it down hard.

“Could be covering Ramses’ escape,” Kinimaka breathed.

“If ever we needed Torsten Dahl,” Hayden exhaled.

“You want me to try crazy mode?”

Hayden was unable to suppress a laugh. “I think it’s more of a lifestyle choice than a change of gear,” she said.

“Whatever it is,” Kinimaka said. “Let’s be quick.”

Hayden beat him to it, charging out of hiding and firing rapidly. One of the figures grunted and fell sideways, the others ducked down. Hayden stormed them, keeping obstacles in their way, but closing the gap as fast as she could. The legionnaires backed off, shooting high, and disappeared around the ceiling-height rack that sold every make and color of trainers available. Hayden and Kinimaka crouched down around the other side, pausing for a second.

“Ready?” Hayden breathed, relieving the fallen cell member of his weapon.

“Go,” Kinimaka said.

As they rose, automatic machine gun fire minced the trainer rack a fraction over their heads. Bits of metal and cardboard, canvas and plastic showered them. Hayden scrambled toward the edge even as the entire structure teetered.

“Oh…” Kinimaka began.

“Fuck!” Hayden finished and leapt.

The entire top half of the wide rack collapsed, torn apart, and fell toward them. A huge looming wall of shelves, it discarded metal struts, cardboard boxes and heaps of new canvas shoes as it came. Kinimaka held a hand up as if to ward off the edifice and continued to move steadily, but his bulk left him lagging behind the scuttling Hayden. As she rolled clear of the descending mass, her trailing foot clipped by a metal support, Kinimaka buried his head beneath his arms and braced as it fell on top of him.

Hayden finished her roll, gun in hand, and looked back. “Mano!”

But her troubles were only just beginning.

Four legionnaires descended upon her, kicking the gun away and slamming her body with their rifle butts. Hayden covered up and then rolled some more. A rack of basketballs tipped over and sent the orange spheres spilling in all directions. Hayden glanced over her shoulder, saw moving shadows and cast around for her Glock.

A shot rang out. She heard the bullet strike something close to her head.

“Stop right there,” a voice said.

Hayden froze and looked up as the shadows of Ramses’ men descended upon her.

“You are with us now.”