Chapter 8 - The Spark
Malcolm checked the ammunition magazine of the stolen weapon and immediately sprinted after my fleeing parents.
I refused to be left behind again, so I forced my broken, bleeding body to stand up and follow him toward the elevators.
Mara ran closely beside me, physically supporting my entire body weight as we desperately chased the people who wanted to sell my baby.
We reached the elevator bank just in time to see the heavy metal doors closing firmly on my parents' terrified faces.
The digital floor indicator above the door aggressively lit up, proving they were heading straight for the rooftop helipad.
"The service stairs are right here," Malcolm yelled while kicking open a heavy red door adjacent to the elevator bank.
I looked up at the terrifying vertical climb of twenty steep flights of concrete stairs and almost completely gave up right there.
But Lily let out a tiny, soft coo against my chest, reminding me exactly why I had to keep fighting this agonizing battle.
I gritted my teeth, ignored the massive amount of blood soaking my slippers, and began the brutal climb upward.
Every single movement felt like my internal organs were being actively ripped apart by jagged, rusty knives.
Mara practically carried me up the final three flights of stairs as my vision began to blur dangerously from severe blood loss.
We finally kicked open the heavy steel rooftop access door and stumbled blindly out into the freezing, windy night air.
The massive hospital helipad was brightly illuminated by harsh landing lights, revealing a sleek, dark helicopter waiting with its rotors spinning loudly.
My mother was already sprinting aggressively across the painted tarmac, desperately holding a briefcase full of forged adoption papers.
My father was standing near the edge of the roof, aiming his pistol directly at the brave pilot to force his absolute compliance.
Malcolm raised his stolen weapon and fired a single, perfect warning shot directly into the tail rotor of the massive helicopter.
The heavy bullet completely shattered the delicate tail mechanism, rendering the expensive aircraft instantly and permanently grounded.
My mother screamed in absolute, devastating frustration as she realized her massive multi-million dollar escape plan was completely ruined.
She dropped the leather briefcase and turned to face me with a look of pure, unadulterated psychotic hatred in her eyes.
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"If I cannot have that money, then absolutely nobody will," my mother screamed over the deafening roar of the dying helicopter engine.
She suddenly pulled a small, silver switchblade from her designer coat and lunged aggressively directly toward my newborn baby.
