Chapter 5 - The Hostage
Sarah's eyes were cold and completely devoid of empathy.
She told us to step into the room and close the door behind us.
David stood rigidly, his fists clenched at his sides.
I moved slowly, bringing the baby closer to my chest while kicking the door shut.
Sarah pointed the gun down at the bundle in my arms.
She demanded that I place the baby on the sterile tray on the bed.
David yelled at her, asking what kind of monster would do this to an infant.
Sarah coldly replied that millions of dollars were locked behind the child's retina scan and blood sequence.
She explained they only needed to extract a tiny sample, but it had to be done here.
She cocked the pistol, the metallic click echoing loudly against the plastic walls.
She gave me three seconds to put the baby down.
I looked around desperately for any advantage.
My eyes landed on the heavy, metal ice bucket sitting on the dresser to my right.
Sarah counted to one.
She counted to two.
Instead of moving toward the bed, I grabbed the ice bucket with my uninjured hand.
I hurled it with all my strength directly at her face.
The heavy metal struck her squarely in the forehead.
She stumbled backward, the gun firing wildly into the ceiling.
David didn't waste a millisecond.
He charged forward like a freight train and tackled her into the plastic-covered wall.
They crashed to the floor in a tangle of limbs.
David wrestled the gun from her grip and tossed it sliding across the cheap carpet.
He pinned her arms behind her back, shouting at me to find something to tie her with.
I grabbed a roll of medical tape from the surgical tray.
I quickly bound her wrists and ankles, securing her tightly to a heavy wooden chair.
David stood up, panting heavily, looking down at his sister-in-law with pure disgust.
We had secured the room and removed the immediate threat.
I told David we needed to call the police and show them this evidence.
Sarah suddenly threw her head back and began to laugh hysterically.
She said calling the police wouldn't matter anymore.
She nodded her head toward an open laptop sitting on the desk.
I walked over and looked at the glowing screen.
It was a live video feed from a security camera.
I recognized the living room instantly.
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It was my house.
Marcus was standing in my living room, holding a knife to my younger sister's throat.
