A BAD IDEA

I pressed my hands to my face and stared down at Mac, so still, folded up on the floor. Brendan grabbed my arm. His mouth was open but he didn’t make a sound.

The two masked men dropped down beside Mac. They leaned over him, examining him, muttering to themselves.

Brendan squeezed my arm. He motioned with his head toward the door.

I was in such a panic, it took me a few seconds to figure out what he meant. This was our chance to escape.

The two men were huddled over Mac.

Brendan and I both moved. I darted forward, grabbed the hunting rifle from the floor, swung it in front of me, and ran. Brendan was already halfway to the door.

My heart thudded like a bass drum in my chest. My legs felt shaky and weak, but I forced myself to run. Into the dimly lit hallway. I turned to follow Brendan. Our shoes pounded the worn carpet.

I glanced back as we turned a corner. The gunmen weren’t coming after us yet. But I knew they would be.

I kept picturing Mac folded up on the floor. I couldn’t get the image from my mind.

Why did he do such a crazy thing? Why did he think he could make them stop and give up? I couldn’t think of an answer.

My brain was spinning as Brendan and I bolted around a corner. “Brendan, wait.” I grabbed his shoulder. My whole body was shaking. I was gripped with panic. “If we run into the woods, they’ll find us. They’ll keep searching till they find us. Where can we hide? Where?”

“The elevator,” Brendan said, motioning with his head. “It’s down here. They’ll expect us to run outside. Instead, we’ll hide upstairs and wait for help to come.”

Was this a bad idea? Were we making a big mistake?

I was too overcome by panic to think straight. Our shoes thudded the carpet as we ran down the long, dimly lit hall. I kept glancing back. No sign of the masked men. Yet.

Brendan pushed the button on the wall, the elevator door slid open slowly, and we squeezed inside.

I heard a shout. A man’s cry far down the hall.

Did they see us?

The elevator moved so slowly, making a scraping sound as it carried us up.

Faster. Please go faster, I urged it silently, my hands squeezed into tight fists.

The tiny car bounced, a hard bump that sent Brendan and me toppling into one another. For a second, I thought it stalled. But it continued its slow, noisy climb.

Brendan and I didn’t speak. The door slid open on the third floor. I followed him into the long hall. “Lots of rooms to hide in,” Brendan whispered. He put a hand on my back and guided me. “That room filled with cartons. They won’t see us in there.”

“Wait,” I said. I turned back to the elevator. It was already rumbling back down to the first floor. “If they saw us…”

Brendan kept his hand on my back. We both stared at the elevator door. And listened.

The air was hot and dry up here. I suddenly felt as if I was suffocating.

We both listened to the scrape of the elevator as it descended.

Were the gunmen down there? Waiting for the elevator? Waiting to come up and capture us?

I shut my eyes. Please … Please … let them go outside. Let them think we ran into the woods to hide.

I heard a hard bump as the elevator reached the first floor.

Brendan and I moved closer. Holding my breath, I pressed my ear against the elevator door. Listened hard.

Down below, I heard the scrape of the door sliding open. I stared at Brendan. He was frozen in place, jaw clamped tight, arms tensed at his sides.

We listened. Not breathing.

I heard the elevator door slide shut.

Silence.

Silence.

And then the hum and rumble as the little car began to climb.

“It … it’s coming back up,” I stammered. “They saw us. They’re coming. We’re trapped.”

33.

Дата добавления: 2015-07-20