Page 60 of Killaney Fire
I fire three times in quick succession. One shot to the head of the guy who saw me first. The other guy takes my bullet to the chest and shoulder. They both drop surrounded by people trampling and screaming over them.
I continue running, stepping over their bodies without looking down.
The stairwell is narrow, smoke clawing at my lungs, but I don't slow. I keep moving, pushing people out of the way if I haveto with my forearm, my right hand gripping my gun, my left keeping Keira pinned to me.
I burst through the doors and into the ground floor lobby. There's more people screaming, covered in blood and black soot, more chaos.
I kick and plant that fall over out of my way and I look around, trying to find another exit. The main one is crowded with people and it's bottlenecked and not moving.
As I race across the room, I see the man who'd passed us, who was sweating — the motherfucker who pulled out that remote and no doubt detonated the bomb.
He stops and looks directly at me and points.
"She's there. She's there," he yells to the left.
I follow his gaze and two people turn to face us with guns in their hands. I stop and jump to my right behind a marble column. A man running by gets hit and warm blood sprays against my hand gripping tightly to Keira.
I pop back out and fire twice. I hit one of them in the leg and he screams and falls to the ground. I pop around the other side of the column and catch the other one in the chest. He falls back, his gun sliding away. I come around and fire two shots at the man who's on the ground holding his leg and he falls back onto the floor, blood pooling under him.
I continue running; Keira's weight presses against my shoulder, her red hair spilling down my back, and I adjust my grip, making sure she's secure.
I see the man who set the bomb off now and he's looking around frantically trying to find others to alert. I see red and despite mybetter judgment I run at him furious. When I get close I plant my size 13 shoe into his chest and send him flying back.
In any other situation I'd probably take him, find out what the hell is going on, but I don't have that luxury.
That doesn't mean this piece of shit lives though.
I run up to him as he's scurrying back. Two shots to the face end his life and I'm torn between killing the one who put her in danger and not finding out why.
But the only thing that truly matters right now is getting her out alive.
I continue and find a side door the valet uses to run for cars. I move through it and out into the night.
Outside, sirens wail in the distance. People scatter across the street, their faces pale with terror.
I spot the SUV we took in the front and run for it. Every car I drive I have two sets of keys made and tonight I'm thanking for it, as I don't have to hunt down a valet person to get them.
As I run, my shoulder burns where debris hit me, and my lungs scream for air, but I don't stop. I'd never stop for her.
I reach the SUV and dig in my pocket for the keys to unlock it. I yank the back door open with one hand, my movements jerky, uncoordinated.
My hands are shaking, but I refuse to acknowledge it.
I lay Keira in the back seat, careful despite the chaos still raging around us.
I quickly rip my jacket off and fold it into a makeshift pillow and slide it under her head, my fingers brushing her hair back from her face.
Seeing her like this cracks something in my chest. She's so full of life and fire all the time; she's never meant to be like this.
I shut the door and slide behind the wheel. I start the car and floor the gas before I've even fastened my seatbelt.
The city blurs past me. Red lights, stop signs, traffic laws — none of it matters as I honk through intersections to stop everyone so I can pass.
I glance in the rearview mirror and see Keira. She's still unconscious, her red hair cradling her face on my jacket, the same one that still smells like her perfume.
Blood stains the fabric of her dress, and her skin is too pale.
But she's breathing and finally for the first time, so am I.
