Radclyffe - Honor Guards

"Good," Cam said. "Don't hesitate to fire, even on one of us. Let's go."

Blair gripped the gun tightly, swallowed back the bile that rose in her throat, and nodded. "All right."

With Stark in the lead, Cam took Blair's arm and kept her close as they rushed to the stairwell and started down. Their footsteps clattered eerily, amplified by the utter stillness in the stairwell after the thundering sound of the gunshot in the foyer. As they approached each landing, Stark trained her weapon on the door until Cam and Blair had passed, then skirted around them to lead the way down to the next floor.

The journey seemed endless, but it was only minutes before they reached the basement level that opened into a small service area at the rear of the building.

"Stay inside against the wall," Cam said curtly as she swept her arm across Blair's chest and pressed her lover against the concrete. "Do not come out unless you hear the order from me or Stark. If you don't get an all clear, go back upstairs and lock yourself in the command center." Cam held Blair's gaze for one fierce moment, then turned to Stark, who had taken a position on the opposite side of the door. "On three."

Stark two-fisted her weapon, raised it to chest level, and nodded.

Blair knew what the two women were going to do. They were going to go through that door, not knowing what was on the other side, prepared to fire or be fired upon. Neither woman was wearing body armor. In a matter of seconds, they could both be dead. She knew it, but she couldn't fathom it. Life couldn't be that precarious, could it? But of course, she knew that it could. "I love you."

Blair thought she'd spoken the words aloud, but she wasn't certain as she heard Cam begin the count in a strong, steady voice.

"One...two...three."

Cam and Stark pushed through the door together, Stark swinging her arms in an arc to the left as Cam swung right. The small turnaround was empty. Just as two black Suburbans careened up the alley, Cam heard a muted blast from somewhere inside the building and felt a faint tremor. She turned back into the basement, grasped Blair's arm and pulled her outside, handing her over to Stark.

"They just blew the stairwell doors from the lobby. Get her into the vehicle. Move. Move!"

The vehicles screeched to a halt, and Mac and Felicia jumped out. Stark herded Blair toward the open rear doors of the nearest vehicle. Blair looked over her shoulder for Cam, who covered their retreat, and caught the hint of movement in the doorway.

"Cam!" Blair screamed in warning.

Moving as one, Cam and Stark closed ranks, shoulder to shoulder, putting themselves between the building and Blair, while Felicia grabbed the president's daughter around the waist and threw her bodily into the rear of the vehicle. Then the air erupted with the sound of gunfire and the acrid smell of cordite.

The first man to exit the building, automatic rifle blasting, went down amidst a fusillade of bullets. Out of the corner of her eye, Cam saw Mac drop his weapon and fly backward against the other Suburban before sliding to the ground. She fired in the direction of the building while backing toward the vehicle that held the president's daughter. Beside her, Stark did the same. They'd almost reached the cover of the open Suburban doors when Stark uttered a sharp cry, staggered a few steps, and then regained her footing.

Cam emptied her weapon in the direction of the last man standing and, reaching for the extra clip on her belt, blinked sweat from her eyes. No one returned fire. Her vision was blurry and the air in her lungs burned with every breath. She turned, afraid of what she might see. Stark leaned against the vehicle, partially shielding the interior with her body, a red stain high on the right arm of her T-shirt. The tension in Cam's chest eased when she saw Blair, kneeling on the backseat of the Suburban, Foster's automatic trained on the rear of the building.

Oh, Jesus, she's all right. Panting, Cam rasped hoarsely, "Davis, you hit?"

"No, I'm okay," Felicia shouted, already running toward Mac. He lay on his back, both hands clamped to his side. Blood ran in rivulets between his fingers, soaking his shirt and pants, and dripped into a spreading pool beneath his body. His face was white, his eyes glazed. "Oh my God, Mac."

"Davis," Cam commanded, stopping Felicia in her tracks. "Get in the car. You're driving."

Evacuating Egret had to be her priority. Everything and everyone else was secondary. Felicia looked up from Mac's body, eyes wide with shock, as Cam appeared beside her.

"Now, Davis," Cam snapped. Then she leaned down next to Mac and put her reloaded automatic into his hand. "Mac. Can you hear me?"

"Yes." His voice was hollow, but he focused on her face.

"I'll radio your location. You just have to hold on."

"Yes, ma'am." He closed his fingers weakly around the automatic. "Go."

"Stay awake, Mac." Cam gripped his shoulder for a second, then ran back toward the Suburban, which Felicia was edging around the second vehicle that Mac had been driving. Cam threw herself into the backseat, pulled the door closed, and shouted, "Get us out of here, Davis."

"Where?" Davis's voice was steady, her hands clenched on the wheel.

Cam focused on her lover. "Blair. Are you hurt?"

"No." Blair felt calm. Far too calm. "You are. So is Stark. You're both bleeding."

"Commander, extraction plan?" Davis inquired again from the front seat. She was driving north on First Avenue. The air reverberated with the wail of sirens. It sounded as if every emergency vehicle in the city was in motion.

"Just keep going—we have to get out of the city." As she spoke, Cam fumbled for her cell phone and took Foster's gun from Blair. "And Davis, raise emergency services. Get someone down there for Mac—Priority One."

"I'll do that, Commander," Stark said hoarsely. Her right arm shook and burned, but she had feeling in her fingers, and the pain wasn't much worse than the ache in her legs after a ten-mile run. She cradled the phone in the palm of her right hand and punched in numbers with her left. Every agent on Blair's team was familiar with the priority numbers in the event of an emergency involving the first daughter.

"Good," Cam responded. Thinking of the devastation at the World Trade Center, she could only imagine the chaos that must be overtaking not just the city, but the entire nation. "I'll try to raise Landers and secure an NYPD escort, but we may be on our own."

0912 11 September 2001

: The Port Authority of New York and New Jersey has ordered that all bridges and tunnels in the metropolitan area be closed.

0918 11 September 2001

"Cam, let me look at you." Blair put her fingers beneath Cam's chin and turned her lover's head toward her. Her stomach lurched at the sight of blood running down the right side of her face. "You need medical attention."

"I'm all right." Cam clenched her teeth as she held the phone to her left ear. The dispatcher who had picked up the priority line at Captain Stacy Landers's extension had sounded breathless and close to panic. She'd put Cam on hold. "Davis, turn on the scanner."

"Darling," Blair insisted quietly. "I think you've been shot."

"Ricochet probably. See to Stark, would you?" Across from them, Stark enunciated Blair's address in clear, sharp tones. "Rear of the building, federal agent down. Repeat, federal agent' down. ETA?" Her face lost all remaining color. "What?...Yes. Yes. Copy."

Stark closed the phone and stared, stunned, at Cam. "He said that both towers of the World Trade Center have been hit by hijacked airliners."

"Yes. Right before the assault on the command center."

"All those people," Blair gasped. "Cam, what's happening?"