Chapter 7 - The Final Stand
When I opened my eyes, the roaring in my ears sounded like a freight train barreling down an empty track.
The house was dead silent, save for the crackling of a small fire starting near the front curtains where a stray incendiary round had caught the drapery.
I pushed myself up onto my elbows, groaning as a wave of intense dizziness washed over me. Warm blood had dried across the left side of my face, caking my eyelashes and sticking to my collar.
Evelyn.
The thought cut through the haze of concussion like a lightning bolt.
I scrambled to my feet, leaning heavily against the kitchen counter for support. My service weapon had been kicked several feet away into the broken glass. I ignored it, lunging toward the pantry door.
The heavy steel door of the panic room was shut.
And standing directly in front of it was the last surviving mercenary.
He was trying to wedge a portable thermal cutting torch into the electronic locking mechanism of the steel door, sparks flying in a bright, blinding shower of blue-white light.
"Open up, little girl!" the mercenary growled, kicking the steel frame with his heavy boot. "Your old man is out of commission!"
I didn't hesitate. I grabbed a heavy cast-iron skillet resting on the kitchen stove and sprinted across the room.
Before the mercenary could turn around, I brought the heavy iron skillet down with every ounce of remaining strength in my body, smashing it squarely across the back of his tactical helmet.
CRACK.
The man staggered forward, his knees buckling beneath him as he collapsed face-first onto the kitchen tiles, unconscious.
I dropped the skillet, falling to my knees in front of the pantry door, my hands shaking uncontrollably.
"Evie?" I whispered, my voice cracking. "Evie, it’s Dad. It’s over."
Inside the vault, there was dead silence.
Panic gripped my throat so tightly I couldn't breathe. I slammed my fist against the steel door. "Evie! Open the door! It's safe!"
A soft, mechanical click echoed from within.
Slowly, the pneumatic seal released, and the heavy steel door swung inward.
Evelyn was sitting huddled in the corner of the small panic room, clutching her backup laptop to her chest like a shield. Her eyes were wide, bloodshot, and filled with tears, but when she saw me standing there bleeding and battered, her face crumpled into a sob.
May you like
She crawled out of the vault as fast as her arms could pull her, throwing herself directly into my arms.
I wrapped my arms around her tightly, burying my face in her hair, weeping openly as the distant sirens of backup police cruisers and state troopers finally wailed up Maple Street, their red and blue lights flashing through the shattered windows of our broken home.
