I grab Sawyer and we move back around the pulpit, joining Felix, who’s still covering the inmates. Most of them are crying, wailing at Preacher’s death. We move along the aisle, Sawyer pausing to grab a Beretta from one of them, and duck through the door.
No way to lock it. We’ll have to run.
We move as fast as we can through the floodwater. No one follows us. Guess they’re too broken up about their holy prophet being killed by a crucifix.
We keep going for a couple more minutes, then turn a corner to find the exit to ACU right in front of us. I unlock the door. We slip through and I lock it behind us again.
We pause on the other side, staring at each other.
“Is this it?” asks Felix. “Northside?”
Sawyer nods. “This is it.”
We did it. I can hardly believe it. We actually made it through the prison units in one piece.
“You know where we are?” I ask Sawyer.
She nods. “Follow me.”
She leads the way through the corridors, Felix and I on either side.
“The hell was all that Bible stuff about?” I ask.
She glances at me. “I told you my mother was religious.”
“Yeah, but how did you remember it all?”
“She was really religious. Believe me, if your mother reads you the Bible every night for a bedtime story, it tends to stick in your head.”
“It was awesome,” says Felix. “It was like watching a tennis match or something. You, him. You, him.” He shakes his head. “Crazy.”
We turn into a narrow passage with doors to either side. The first opens into a small staff room, the next a bathroom, and the next few lead into offices.
Sawyer glances over her shoulder, a smile on her face. “It’s just around the—”
She’s cut off by the sound of gunfire.
The wall next to my head explodes, sharp fragments cutting into my cheek.
Sawyer and Felix, about five steps ahead, make it around the corner to the next passage. I throw myself through the closest door into one of the offices, and swing the Ruger around from my back, holding it at the ready.
“Jack?” shouts Felix.
“Go!” I shout. “Just leave the door open.”
“Hey, Jackie-boy!” It’s Kincaid’s voice. “What’s the word?”
Jesus Christ. Why won’t he just fuck off ? “Nothing much!” I shout.
I wait.
“Jack?” Felix’s voice again.
“Fuck sake, Felix. Go!”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll take care of this asshole.”
Kincaid laughs. “What a hero,” he says. “How you gonna take care of me, boy?”
Another burst of gunfire erupts in the hallway. The water explodes into fountains just outside the door.
“You ever going to leave me alone?” I shout.
“Don’t think so.”
There’s another burst of gunfire. I wait for it to stop, then duck my head quickly through the door and back in again. I see the barrel of a rifle one room down. In the staff kitchen.
I point my own rifle at the wall inside the office. I aim it toward where I think Kincaid is standing and open fire.
The bullets rip through the internal walls. I hear a heavy splash in the passage outside the room and instantly dive to the side. Bullets punch through the wall, shredding the shelves and books behind me.
I fire back, keeping my aim low.
I take my finger off the trigger. I hold my breath, listening.
Silence. Did I get him? I push myself to my feet, head for the door. I pause just inside the room. Listening.
Nothing.
I peer around the doorway and the butt of Kincaid’s rifle hits me in the temple. I stumble back, falling into the water. Kincaid comes after me, rifle raised to strike again.
I kick out, sweeping his legs out from under him. I push myself to my feet, fighting off waves of dizziness. I realize I’ve lost my rifle. I look around. Where the hell did I drop it?
Kincaid launches himself at me, grabbing me around the stomach and sending us both flying backward. I hit the edge of the desk, pain exploding up and down my spine. He forces me back, hand pushing at my chin, then shifts his weight, both hands coming up around my neck. He digs his fingers in. I try to pull away, but he won’t let go. I reach out to grab something from the desk, anything I can use as a weapon. My fingers curl around the desk lamp and I smash it against his head.
Kincaid grunts and loosens his grip. I bring my knees up and shove him back, then launch myself after him, splashing through the water. He is still on his feet. I lash out and hit him in the jaw. That’s the only punch I land before he raises his fists to protect his face.
He jabs at me. I block, but he follows it with a lightning-fast uppercut I don’t even see coming. It smashes into my chin. My mouth slams shut, pain and blood blossoming in my mouth as I bite my tongue. Rapid body punches connect with my ribs, my kidneys. I try to keep myself protected, but every time I shift my guard, Kincaid finds an opening and lands another punch.
I can’t keep this up. I drop my guard and grab him around the body, pinning his arms to his side. I lash out with my head, slamming it into his face. Then I bring my knee up into his stomach. I feel the explosion of breath against my neck and shove him away. He stumbles into the wall, his face contorted in pain as he tries to catch a breath.
My arm is killing me. The makeshift bandage has come loose and the wounds are bleeding freely again.
The building suddenly starts to shake, the walls trembling. The remaining books fall off the shelf, splashing into the water. I stagger, steadying myself against the desk.
I glance out the window, and what I see makes my stomach lurch with fear. The eye has almost passed completely over us. The hurricane wall is only a few hundred feet away.
I dive toward where I think I
