Chapter 8 - The Desperate Strike
Detective Miller collapsed heavily to the sterile floor, clutching his rapidly bleeding shoulder as a groan of pure agony escaped his lips.
Robert casually stepped over the wounded detective, his expensive leather shoes leaving bloody footprints on the pristine white tiles.
He raised the smoking barrel of the suppressed pistol and pointed it directly at the center of my forehead.
He calmly explained his final plan, stating that he would simply tell the local police an escaped, deranged fugitive broke into the clinic.
He gloated that he would claim he shot me in absolute self-defense while trying to protect his beloved wife and injured granddaughter.
With both me and Lily dead, he would finally possess the absolute power and limitless wealth he believed he rightfully deserved.
I slowly backed away from the bed, raising my hands high in the air in a gesture of absolute, terrifying surrender.
I begged him to take the money and the trust, promising to disappear forever if he just let my daughter live.
Robert laughed, a cold, metallic sound, stating that loose ends always have a nasty habit of coming back to ruin good investments.
As I backed up, my spine hit the cold metal edge of a heavy medical cart filled with emergency trauma equipment.
I did not look down, blindly reaching my hand behind my back toward the bottom shelf of the heavy steel cart.
My fingers curled around the solid metal handle of a portable, extremely heavy oxygen tank.
I waited until Robert took one more arrogant step forward, completely distracted by his own villainous monologue.
I swung the heavy metal oxygen tank with every single ounce of adrenaline and desperate strength my body possessed.
The solid cylinder struck Robert squarely in the jaw with a sickening crunch, sending him crashing violently into the expensive medical monitors.
He hit the ground instantly, the suppressed pistol skittering across the floor and landing near the door.
I lunged forward to grab the weapon, hoping to finally end this terrifying nightmare once and for all.
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But Patricia was significantly faster, instantly scooping the heavy gun off the floor with a terrifyingly calm demeanor.
She racked the slide, aiming the weapon squarely at Lily's fragile, sleeping chest.
