“Come on!” I grasped the narrow file and shoved it into his arms so I’d have both hands free to fight.
He nodded and followed me, almost as though he was in shock. I couldn’t leave him there. I didn’t trust that he’d be okay once I was gone. How could his own father talk to him that way?
In the distance more footsteps pounded in our direction. Definitely time to go.
We hurried to the stairs and sprinted up. They weren't far behind. As we reached the next flight of stairs, the door above us clanged open, hitting the brick wall with a crash.
We pushed the nearest door open. Jake panted behind me. He could move swiftly, but his panic messed with his lung capacity.
“I need to get somewhere with no people,” I whispered, just loud enough for Jake to hear me.
He nodded. At the next intersection he veered to the right, to the morgue. The corridor was long and straight. We were almost there when I heard an ominous click.
I grabbed the fabric at the back of his neck and dragged him down with me. A feather-tailed dart sailed overhead. He froze, staring at the narrow metal needle buried deep within the door in front of us.
“Get up!” I dragged him to his feet and through the door.
I shoved him into the corner of the room with the folders and I stood to the side of the door as two of the men barged in after us. The third must have stayed down for the count. I let the first run past me but leaped as the second followed. I brought an elbow down on the top of his head, followed by a knee below his ribs. He dropped to the ground.
I found myself facing a wall of silver squares, with handles protruding from them. The other attacker ran directly at me from behind. I grasped a handle at waist height and yanked, hard. I slid to the floor and the steel tray trundled straight out, hitting the man in the stomach.
I rolled from beneath the tray and found my feet at the same time he pushed himself upright. He moved forward, hands high. He shielded his face with his fists, and his forearms protected his upper body. He was a boxer, perhaps a kick boxer, but he lumbered around a bit much for that.
He came within reach; I kicked out, straight to his knee. His leg buckled and he fell to the ground with a yell.
“You need to shut him up!” Jake panicked. I couldn’t blame him.
I leaned over the man and pushed the webbing between my thumb and finger against his windpipe to cut off his air supply. His eyes went wide with fear before his body went limp and he passed out.
As he stilled, I rose to my feet, surveying the damage. We dragged the two men to the corner of the room and tossed a sheet over them, then turned to push the tray holding the dead body back into the wall. As soon as I laid eyes on what was on the tray, I froze.