Cassidy tried to calm her rapid breaths. She eyed the fixture again, steeling her resolve. I can do this, she thought as her left eyeball began to burn. After shifting slightly to create a different angle of attack, she focused every shred of energy on the red target, wound up her shoulder, and heaved her arm forward.
Ting! Having nailed her target, her body followed through, upending her balance. The box tipped underneath her and she began to topple forward while above her, a gushing, hissing sound filled the air. As she flew into space, cold water sprayed her back. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion: her hair and shoulders soaking with water, the dusty air filling her lungs, the ground yawning at her as she opened her mouth to scream.
She landed on her elbows and knees atop a jumble of boxes. One arm dangled over the side—the other still held the gun. The sound of the gushing water blared in her ears—she thought she heard the faint sound of an alarm but couldn’t be sure. Something hard was poking into her thigh, and something sharp stabbed her forehead. But she was okay. Nothing felt broken. Quickly, she repositioned herself as water cascaded down her face and arms and soaked into her t-shirt. She squinted at the scene, trying to get her bearings. Why couldn’t she see? She shut her left eye and things came back into focus, meaning she had lost her right contact after all. Opening both eyes, she knew that her good one would compensate, but her depth perception would be off, so she was careful to double check her descent before lowering over the side.
Water flowed down the metal posts, making them slippery, as if the decades-old grit and dust mixing with the water created some kind of lubricant. Purposefully not looking down, she gripped the post with her legs and shimmied shelf by shelf. All around her water sprayed down like rain. Cardboard boxes were now dark brown, the ground below shiny. When she reached the ground, she nearly lost her footing the on the slick surface. She took off running for the stairs, her bare feet splashing through a layer of water.
Taking the steps two at a time, she wondered if Saxon was waiting for her on the other side of the door. Had the men taken Izzy? Cassidy pushed through the entrance. The hallway was a tunnel of dark mist but she made out the shapes of people running, all of them feeling for the door at the end of the hall lit up by a red “EXIT” sign. Cold water seeped through her toes as Cassidy splashed across the flooded floor, the alarm’s peal ringing over the sound of gushing water pouring down from the ceiling. But she also heard another sound: someone screaming.
Cassidy burst into the room, calling Izzy’s name.
Her brain refused to make sense of the scene before her: black leather straps bound Izzy’s wrists to the bed frame while she kicked and squirmed, her cheeks smeared with black mascara.
Cassidy untied the restraints while Izzy sobbed. This time, the girl did not resist Cassidy’s hand.
The two women ran for the door. From the window, Cassidy heard the approaching whine of sirens.
But before they could reach it, Saxon burst through the doorway. His expression exploded with fury once he saw them. His black t-shirt was soaked and water dripped down his face.
Cassidy stopped in her tracks and pushed Izzy behind her. In doing so, she remembered the gun tucked in her waistband. Had she put it there before climbing down the shelves?
“I’m taking Izzy out of here!” Cassidy shouted over the gushing water. The sounds of the sirens were getting closer; there was more than one engine now.
With a roar, Saxon lunged for them.
Instantly, Cassidy drew the gun. She planted her feet firmly and extended her arms. She had no idea if the gun would fire after being exposed to so much water, but Saxon didn’t have to know that.
Saxon sneered at her. “You have no idea what you’re getting into,” he said, then looking past Cassidy, he added, “We made a deal, Izzy.”
“Your deal’s off!” Cassidy said, realizing that there was no way to keep him captive until the fire department arrived. He’s going to get away, she thought with agony.
“Not without what’s mine,” he said, and stepped toward Cassidy.
The gun went off, a thundering bang that exploded in her ears. Saxon jumped. Across the room, Cassidy saw the dark hole in the wall from her bullet.
Saxon eyed her shrewdly, like a tiger facing off his enemy. “This isn’t over,” he said, his tone icy.
Thirty-One
Cassidy held her ground. Outside, the sirens neared, they were seconds away.
In a flash, Saxon turned and fled.
Cassidy heard Izzy sobbing, but didn’t stop to look at her. She pulled her into the hallway, empty now, and raced to the back door. Water poured down from the ceiling, and with her compromised vision, everything looked dark and hazy. In an instant, they were half-sliding, half-running down the stairs. Sirens and air horns now mixed with high-pitched wails—so the police were coming too.
At the bottom of the stairs, they sprinted for the door. Outside, she grabbed her pack but couldn’t locate her flip flops. From the left, a giant fire
