Jeff Abbott - Fear

Miles heard the locks click.

Miles shoved the guard to the floor, told him to lie flat and be still. The guard obeyed. Please, Jesus, let us out, be open. His fear was like a fire on his skin. They hit the doors, stumbled into the brisk cool of the dark night, ran hard toward the parking lot.

Sorenson advanced carefully to the lobby, listened, heard only the rattle of breathing of the frightened guard. He stepped into the lobby.

‘Front door,’ the guard said. ‘They went through the front door. There ought to be another gun in this drawer…’

Sorenson ran past the man, tested the door, decided they wouldn’t be waiting on the other side to ambush him and ran after them. He saw them fleeing in the low gleam of the lights and ran as silently as he could, his pistol stiff-armed in front of him, keeping Nathan Ruiz’s head in his sights.

‘This way.’ Miles pointed to the rear of the parking lot, and they weaved along, hunkering low.

Behind them an alarm shattered the quiet. ‘You got a car?’

‘Yes. We’ve got to be gone before the cops get here…’

‘They won’t call the cops,’ Nathan said. ‘Trust me…’

A bullet’s whine pierced the air and Nathan fell, frantic, a scream choked in his throat. Miles whirled and saw Sorenson two rows of cars away, aim pivoting toward him. Miles fired in answer and Sorenson dropped.

But not like he was hit.

The parking lot was a maze of cars, some slots filled, others empty. Miles grabbed Nathan, who probed at his hair, at his scalp, for evidence of a hit, and shoved him below the line of car windows.

‘I’m okay,’ Nathan mumbled.

‘Stay low.’

They worked their way through the cars, Miles panicking that Sorenson could simply step out into the row at the same time that they did and pick them both off. If Sorenson was close enough he’d hear them run into the parking aisle’s open space, kill them with two rapid-fire shots.

And if Celeste saw them coming, if she stood next to the car… Sorenson could gun her down.

He put a hand over Nathan’s mouth. Listened to the silence. The night’s quiet fell on them. He fought back the surge of fear.

I can’t let Sorenson just kill this kid. He forced himself to wait, to listen past the drumming of his own heart.

Eleven seconds later, he heard a scrabble of stone against a shoe, two cars to his right.

Miles dropped to the pavement, fired under the cars into the blackness. He heard a yell of fury, a body leaping onto a car in retreat.

Miles shoved Nathan and they ran. Miles turned and fired; he saw Sorenson drop off the trunk of a car, either hit or diving for cover. Miles stumbled but Nathan caught him, pulled him up to his feet.

Miles spotted Blaine’s car.

In the low dazzle of the lot’s lights, the car stood empty. Celeste was gone.

‘Celeste!’ he screamed. ‘Celeste?’

The trunk opened. She peered out at him.

‘What the hell?’ he yelled.

‘It’s nicer in here,’ she whispered.

‘Out, now, now, now, we got to go.’ And the crack of a bullet broke above him, demolishing a window in the car parked next to them. He whirled, saw dark figures – Sorenson and two guards – approaching. A blaze of fire from the barrel of two guns, bullets pocketing the trunk of the car next to him.

Shooting to kill, Miles dropped to a knee, trying to remember to breathe, aimed, his hand shaking, blinking past Andy’s face and pulled the trigger. Once, twice, three times, laying down a round of fire. He heard himself screaming, a crazy man.

Behind him Blaine’s old car roared into life. Miles flinched. But no bomb. Nathan was behind the wheel, Celeste ducking into the backseat.

Miles kept his wavering gun aimed at the darkness. He saw one guard running toward them. Miles shot out the window of the car closest to the man and the guard ducked and stayed down.

Miles followed Celeste into the backseat.

Nathan powered the car out of the slot; Miles fired at their pursuers until the clip emptied. They roared past Sorenson and the guards, through a sputtering hail of bullets, ricochets flying off the car roof. Miles covered Celeste with his body, protecting her. Nathan swung the car out fast and hard onto the narrow winding trail of Canyon Road. He hit sixty in ten seconds, crouched low next to the wheel. ‘Who are you, man?’

‘Miles Kendrick.’ His old name didn’t seem to fit him right anymore, like a shirt worn once, ill fitting and ugly, not to be worn again. He sat up, pulling up Celeste, looking behind him. No pursuit. Not yet.

‘Your driver’s license said your name was Michael.’

‘It needs updating. My name’s Miles. But I really am a patient of Doctor Vance’s. So is this woman. Her name is Celeste.’

Nathan’s gaze flickered to Celeste in the rearview. ‘Why’d you come get me?’

‘I need you. I want to know the truth about why Allison died.’

‘I’ll drop you off but the car stays with me. I got to get far away from them.’

‘Wrong. We should stay together,’ Miles said.

‘I don’t like Nathan,’ Andy said from the other side of Celeste. ‘I like him even less than I like you. Go ahead and shoot him before he hurts you. You think you can trust this guy? You better find out what the hell Sorenson meant by Mr. Explosives.’

Nathan veered onto Cerro Gordo – the road that led past Allison’s house – and Miles expected to hear the scream of police sirens. But nothing, and the road behind them was black and empty. The night lay quiet, closing its dark fist around the car.

‘Stay together,’ Nathan said. ‘Why?’

‘We can fight better together.’

‘I don’t want to fight…’ he started, then stopped. ‘But I don’t want to hide the rest of my life either.’

‘I have a place we can hide. Where we can decide how to stop these people.’

‘Stop them from what?’

‘Killing us.’

Nathan shook his head. ‘I can’t go to the police. My folks – they’ll just send me to another loony bin. I don’t need it anymore.’

‘Neither do we. I don’t know how Groote and Sorenson connect, but they’ll be after us. We know what Allison stole from the hospital, and I think we know how to find it before Groote and Sorenson do. We do that, they can’t hurt us.’

‘There’s another guy… Doctor Hurley.’

‘We know. He tried to kill me. Celeste… stopped him.’

‘Permanent stop?’

‘Permanent.’

Nathan gave her a thumbs-up. ‘Honey, I could kiss you.’

She shuddered.

‘But don’t worry,’ Nathan said, ‘I won’t.’ His grin, ecstatic at his freedom, went wide and manic. ‘So where do we go, dude? We’re free birds, free free free-’

Miles wondered, in helping Nathan, what dangerous genie he’d let out of the bottle.

‘You hit, sir?’ the guard asked.

‘He missed me,’ Sorenson said. ‘Barely.’ He imagined he could feel the heat where the bullet had just missed his ankle.

‘I think I hit one,’ the guard said, huffing for breath. He was the one who’d taken the blow to the guts. ‘The window, I got him, we should-’

‘You should have aimed for the tires.’ He’d emptied his own clip too soon and was furious with himself. ‘Is the alarm system keyed to the police?’

‘Absolutely not,’ the guard said. ‘We’re under orders not to call the police. Ever. Mr. Quantrill doesn’t want them around.’

Not calling the cops made sense. Sorenson had no desire to bring unwelcome, official attention to the hospital; it had served its purpose. He turned from the guards without another word and headed toward his car.

‘Hey! Mister, wait a goddamn second…’ One of the guards caught him by the arm and Sorenson swiftly stopped, levered his arm free, brought his elbow back into the guard’s face. The nose gave way with a sickening crack and the man collapsed with a howl.