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“No, I not think so.”

“Your foot is bleeding.”

“I step on something sharp and cut it. Is okay. Is not bad.”

“Come on,” I grabbed her hand. “That soda machine won’t hold him for long.”

“Da. It won’t.”

We ran into the darkness.

twenty

We fled down the hallway and back into the deserted machine shop. The room was full of smoke, but I still didn’t see any flames. Most of the building seemed to be made of concrete, so it was possible that it wouldn’t catch on fire. Maybe Whitey had been telling the truth when he said it was just the vehicles that were aflame. The smoke rushed towards us as we entered the room, clinging to our bodies and crawling up our noses and down our parched throats. We dropped to our knees, coughing and gagging. My eyes watered and it was hard to see.

“Is no good,” Sondra choked. “We will not breathe if we are to stay here.”

“You’re right. Let’s see if we can get out the way we came in.”

Sondra shook her head. “Is police there.”

“Not anymore. Whitey killed them all.”

“But more will come?”

“Yeah, I’m sure there are more cops on the way, along with firemen and Quick Response units and who knows what else, but if the fire is keeping them away, we might be able to squeeze past unnoticed.”

“I do not think it will work.”

“Well, if you’ve got a better idea, I’d love to hear it.”

When she didn’t respond, I crawled towards the first room. After a moment’s hesitation, Sondra followed me. I turned back to her and smiled in encouragement. Both of us were coughing, and snot ran down our faces. We weren’t a pretty sight, but Sondra was still the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, even in her current condition.

The first room was filled with a cloud of thick, black smoke, hovering just inches from the floor—an almost solid wall that obscured everything else. The sirens were louder here, and even though we couldn’t see, we knew there were a lot of cops and other personnel right outside the building. We heard them shouting to each other.

“So much for that,” I said. “They’ve probably got the fucking place surrounded. Now what?”

“Larry,” Sondra wheezed, “I am feeling sick. My throat…it burns.”

“Smoke inhalation. We need to get lower. Let’s try the basement.”

As we crawled towards the back room again, I noticed that Sondra’s foot had stopped bleeding. The bottom of her sock was red. I started to comment on it when behind us, we heard a series of muffled thumps, followed by a hissing sound. As I looked back, something soared through the smoke and landed on the floor in the main room. It was about the size of a baseball. As it rolled towards us, I saw that it was a grenade.

“Shit! Get down.”

Sondra flattened against the cement and I climbed overtop of her, shielding her body with mine. I squeezed my watering eyes shut and tensed, waiting for the explosion. Waited for the shrapnel. This was it. We were going to die.

But nothing happened.

The hissing grew louder. I opened my eyes. A cloudy substance was leaking out of the grenade, mixing with the smoke. I pulled my bloody shirt up over my mouth and nose, and motioned at Sondra to do the same.

“Gas,” I hissed. “Those motherfuckers gassed us. Head for the stairs and hold your breath as long as you can. Hurry!”

Holding our breath, we made it to the basement stairs. I glanced down the hallway, worried that Whitey might have already freed himself, but the smoke was too heavy and I couldn’t see the break room. My burning lungs felt like they were going to burst. We plunged down the stairs, taking them two at a time, and came out into a basement. The air was clearer, and we stood up, gasping for breath.

“Is dark,” Sondra said. “I can’t see.”

“Our eyes will adjust eventually. I’m betting that the cops are getting ready to storm the building. Keep going, while we still can.”

“You go first, yes?”

“Sure. Take my hand.”

“Don’t let go.”

“I won’t.”

We started forward. I went slowly, only able to see a few feet ahead of me. The basement level consisted of a long hallway with multiple doors on either side. The floor was covered with dust. Each door had its designation stenciled on it. We passed by the boiler room, the generator, the electrical room—Shock Hazard, the sign warned us—the pump room, a janitor’s closet, an HVAC room, and several storage areas. At the end of the hallway was a freight elevator. I hadn’t seen the elevator on the floor above us, and figured it must have been hidden behind debris.

“Dead end,” I said, feeling the walls in the darkness. “Can’t go this way.”

The air was still relatively clear, but my eyes were beginning to sting. It was simply a matter of time before the smoke made its way downstairs, bringing the tear gas with it. We reluctantly started back the way we’d come.

“I don’t know what to do,” I apologized. “I’m sorry.”

Sondra started to speak, but Whitey’s sudden and enraged cry cut her off.

“SONDAAAAAAA!!!”

“Oh shit,” I said. “Guess who’s back?”

“Is no guess. Is Whitey.”