Chapter 8 - The Chemistry of Combat
Elena had lured the remaining mercenaries into the science wing.
She used her environment with ruthless efficiency. She mixed concentrated potassium and water in a beaker, tossing it down the hallway to create a blinding, explosive smokescreen. In the chaos, she took down three more men, dislocating shoulders and shattering kneecaps. She didn't use lethal force unless absolutely necessary; dead men couldn't answer questions.
But she was taking hits. A bullet grazed her shoulder, tearing through her jacket. She ducked into the chemistry lab, breathing heavily, tying a makeshift tourniquet around her arm.
The door exploded inward.
The leader of the mercenaries, a giant of a man with a scarred face, stepped through the smoke. He leveled an assault rifle at her chest.
"End of the line, Commander," he growled.
Suddenly, a glass beaker shattered against the side of the mercenary's head.
He roared in pain, dropping his aim.
Elena looked up to see Julian Vance standing in the doorway, his arm still raised from throwing the glass.
"Run, Julian!" Elena screamed.
The mercenary backhanded Julian, sending the boy crashing into the lab tables. But the distraction was all Elena needed. She launched herself forward, sliding under the rifle barrel, and drove her elbow upward into the man's jaw. He staggered, and she followed up with a sweeping leg kick that sent him crashing through a glass display case.
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Elena aimed her weapon at his head. "It's over."
Sirens suddenly wailed in the distance. The state police, alerted by a dead-man's switch Elena had planted on her truck's radio, were finally arriving.
