Chapter 7 - The Struggle
The faint hissing sound of gas immediately began echoing from the overhead vents.
David pulled a compact oxygen mask from his tactical vest and strapped it over his face.
He pointed his weapon at me, confident that we would suffocate in a matter of minutes.
Lauren, who had been leaning weakly against the support beam, suddenly lunged forward.
She grabbed a heavy glass mason jar from a nearby storage shelf and smashed it into David's face.
The thick glass shattered against his oxygen mask, cracking the plastic visor.
David stumbled backward, blindly firing a single suppressed shot into the dark.
The bullet hit the concrete wall, sending a shower of sharp debris raining down on us.
I used the momentary chaos to tackle him around the waist.
We crashed onto the hard floor, the heavy pistol skittering away under the washing machine.
David was much stronger than me, and he quickly rolled me onto my back.
His hands wrapped tightly around my throat, cutting off my air supply.
My vision began to blur as the toxic gas slowly filled the enclosed space.
I thrashed wildly, my hands searching the floor for any kind of weapon.
Bennett suddenly appeared from the shadows, holding a heavy iron wrench.
My seven-year-old son swung the wrench with all his might, striking David's shoulder.
David roared in pain and released his grip on my neck, reaching for the boy.
Before he could touch Bennett, Lauren grabbed the discarded pistol from under the machine.
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She aimed it directly at David's head and pulled the trigger with zero hesitation.
The gun clicked completely empty.
