Chapter 6 - The Garage
The heavy thud of the steel doors sealing us inside echoed endlessly in the concrete cavern.
We were trapped.
"Drop the gun, Larkin, and I make it quick," Rossi said, tapping the machete against his leg.
Larkin raised his weapon and pulled the trigger.
The gun clicked empty.
Larkin swore under his breath and threw the useless pistol clattering across the floor.
"Run," Larkin whispered to me, pulling a small combat knife from his ankle holster.
I refused to move.
Rossi charged forward with terrifying speed for a man of his size.
He swung the massive blade in a brutal arc aimed directly at Larkin's neck.
Larkin ducked beneath the swing, slashing his knife across Rossi's thigh.
The giant roared in pain but spun around, backhanding Larkin across the face.
Larkin crashed hard onto the hood of a parked car, dropping his knife.
Rossi raised the machete high above his head with both hands, ready to deliver the killing blow.
I did not scream.
I ran toward the wall, where a bright red emergency fire axe was locked behind a glass panel.
I ripped off my steel-tipped stiletto and smashed the glass with the heavy heel.
I pulled the heavy axe free, my muscles screaming in protest.
"Hey!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.
Rossi paused mid-swing and turned his massive head to look at me.
I swung the axe with everything I had, burying the red blade deep into the back of Rossi's knee.
He let out an agonizing howl and collapsed to the floor, dropping his machete.
Larkin immediately lunged forward, grabbing Rossi's fallen blade.
With one swift, brutal motion, Larkin ended the enforcer's life.
Larkin stood up, chest heaving, his dark eyes fixed on me in absolute shock.
I dropped the bloody axe, my hands trembling violently.
"I guess you are not just a spreadsheet girl," Larkin panted, wiping blood from his eyes.
He walked over to Rossi's body and tore the remote detonator from his belt.
He pressed the open button, but the steel blast doors did not budge.
The remote sparked and died in his hand.
"The signal is jammed," Larkin coughed, noticing the thick smoke creeping down from the ceiling.
The fire from the kitchen was spreading into the ventilation shafts.
We had less than five minutes before the carbon monoxide killed us.
"We need a battering ram," Larkin said, running toward his armored SUV.
He jumped into the driver's seat and I scrambled into the passenger side.
Larkin floored the gas pedal, launching the massive vehicle directly at the reinforced steel doors.
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We braced for impact, but just before we hit, a blinding white light flooded the garage.
A heavy military-grade tank plowed through the steel doors from the outside, crushing the front of our SUV.
