There was a faint glimmer of amber light ahead. I could see Sampson curled up on the floor. My heart was pounding so fast there was barely a space between the beats. My partner was badly hurt. This had never happened before, not even when we were kids on the streets of D.C.
“I’m here,” I said to Sampson, kneeling beside him. I touched his arm. “You bleed to death, I’ll be pissed off,” I told him. “Just be real still.”
“Don’t sweat it. I’m not going into shock, either. Nothing shocks me anymore,” he groaned.
“Don’t be a hero.” I held his head lightly against my side. “You’ve got a knife stuck in the middle of your back.”
“I am a hero… go on!… You can’t let them get away now. You already hit one. They headed toward the stairs. The same way we came in.”
“Go, Alex, you have to get them!” I turned at the sound of Naomi’s voice. She knelt over Sampson. “I’ll take care of him.”
“I’ll be back,” I said. Then I was gone.
I turned a dark comer of the long passageway in a low shooting crouch. I found myself entering the first corridor we’d come to. They headed toward the stairs, Sampson had said.
Light at the end of the tunnel? Monsters hiding along the way? I moved faster in the semidarkness. Nothing would stop me now. Well, maybe Casanova and Rudolph could. Two against one weren’t the odds I wanted on their home field.
I found the doorway out at last. There was no lock, no doorknob. I’d blown it away.
The stairway was clear, at least it looked that way. The trapdoor was open, and I could see dark pine trees and patches of blue sky overhead. Were they waiting up there for me? The two clever monsters!
I climbed the wooden steps as quickly as I could. My finger was light on the Glock’s trigger. Everything was surging out of control again.
I exploded up the final stairs like an all-pro fullback through a small hole in the line of scrimmage. I burst from the rectangular opening in the ground. Did a semiacrobatic roll. Came up firing the Glock. At the least, my combat routine might ruin somebody’s aim.
No one was there to shoot me, or applaud my performance, either. The deep woods were silent and appeared absolutely empty.
The monsters had disappeared… and so had the house.
CHAPTER 110
I CHOSE the same general direction that Sampson and I had come in. It was definitely one way out of the woods, and it might be the route Casanova and Will Rudolph would take. I hated leaving Sampson and the women, but there was no other choice, no other way.
I stuck the Glock into my shoulder holster and I started to run. Faster and faster as my legs began to work again, remembered how to run fast.
A trail of fresh blood on leaves led a few yards into the thick undergrowth. One of them was bleeding heavily. I hoped he would die soon. I was on the right trail, anyway.
Vines and thorny bushes tore at my arms and legs as I moved through the densely overgrown thicket. The leafy branches whipped across my face. I didn’t care about being whipped.
I ran for what must have been a mile, or seemed like it. I was perspiring, and searing pains ripped through my chest. My head felt as hot as the engine of an overheated car. Every footstep seemed heavier than the last.
For all I knew, I was putting distance between myself and the two of them. Or maybe they were right behind me? Maybe they had watched me come out? Trailed me? Circled around behind me? Two on one wasn’t how I wanted this to go down.
I looked for more signs of blood or torn clothing. Some sign that they had been through here. My lungs were on fire now, and I was soaked with perspiration. My legs ached and were tightening up.
I had a flashback, a rush of images. I was running with Marcus Daniels in my arms, in Washington, D.C. I saw the poor little boy’s face again now. I remembered hearing Sampson scream in shock and pain back at the house. I saw Naomi’s face.
Something was up ahead—two men were running. One of them was holding his shoulder. Was it Casanova? Or the Gentleman? Didn’t really matter—I wanted both of them. Wouldn’t settle for less.
The wounded monster showed no signs of slowing. He knew I was bearing down on him, and he unleashed a bloodcurdling yell. It reminded me that he was an unpredictable madman of the highest order. The scream—“Yaaaaahhhhhh!”—echoed through the fir woods like the howl of a wild animal.
Then another primal scream. “Yaaaaahhhhhh!” It was the other madman.
Twinning, I thought. They were both natural animals. They couldn’t survive anymore without each other.
The sudden sound of gunfire caught me off guard. A chip flew off the bark of a pine tree and whipped past my head. It came within an inch or two of cutting me down, killing me on the spot. One of the monsters had turned around that fast, fired off a shot.
I crouched behind the tree that had taken a bullet for me. I peered out through leafy branches. I couldn’t see either of them up ahead. I waited. Counted off the seconds. Tried to get my heart to start again. Which one of them had fired the shot? Which one was wounded?