Chapter 9 - The Fire Door
Emergency lights flashed red along the corridor.
Heavy security doors began closing one after another.
Marina pulled Sofía close.
“We need the stairwell.”
Patricia stood unsteadily.
“I can’t walk straight.”
“What did they give you?” Marina asked.
“I don’t know.”
Daniel disappeared into the darkness with Dr. Reeves.
A steel door slammed between us and the main exit.
Smoke began pouring from the ventilation system.
“This is not a fire,” Marina said.
“It is a containment procedure.”
I handed Sofía to Patricia.
“Stay behind Marina.”
Patricia looked at the weapon in my hand.
“Eduardo—”
“Not now.”
Marina found a manual release beside the fire door.
It required two people to pull separate handles at the same time.
One handle was above my reach.
“I’ll do both,” she said.
“You can’t.”
“I’ll find a way.”
A guard appeared at the end of the corridor.
He wore a respirator mask.
He carried a baton.
Marina stepped in front of Sofía.
I raised the pistol.
The guard stopped.
“Move away from the door.”
“No,” I said.
He continued toward us.
I fired into the ceiling.
Plaster fell across the hallway.
The guard dropped the baton and raised his hands.
“Open it.”
“I don’t have access.”
Marina pointed toward the upper handle.
“Then pull that.”
The guard obeyed.
I pulled the lower release.
The steel door lifted.
Smoke rolled toward us.
We moved into the stairwell.
Marina carried Sofía.
Patricia held the railing and followed.
I faced the stairs.
For the first time since my accident, the wheelchair became a cage.
The elevator had shut down.
The emergency exit waited one floor below us.
Marina looked at me.
“We transfer you down.”
“There is no time.”
“I can do it.”
“You’ll fall.”
“I won’t.”
She moved behind my chair and locked the wheels.
The guard returned.
“I can help.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because they told us the child was dangerous.”
He looked ashamed.
“She is five.”
Together, they lowered me one step at a time.
Every impact sent pain through my spine.
Smoke thickened above us.
Sofía cried silently against Patricia’s shoulder.
Halfway down, an explosion shook the building.
The guard lost his grip.
My chair tilted.
Marina caught the frame with both hands.
Her knee struck the concrete.
“Marina!”
“I have you.”
Blood appeared beneath her torn scrub pants.
Still, she did not let go.
They lowered me to the final landing.
Detective Mills and a tactical team broke through the exterior door.
Fresh air rushed inside.
Sofía screamed my name.
Mills lifted her and carried her outside.
Paramedics surrounded Patricia.
I turned toward Marina.
She was sitting on the ground, breathing hard.
“You’re hurt.”
“So are you.”
“Not like that.”
She laughed weakly.
“That is the first time you admitted someone else might be more injured than you.”
I reached for her hand.
Then Detective Mills ran back inside.
“Daniel escaped through the west service tunnel.”
“Where does it lead?”
“To an airfield.”
My phone vibrated.
Daniel had sent me one photograph.
It showed the Santana Logistics headquarters.
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Beneath it were six words.
COME ALONE OR THE FILES DISAPPEAR.
