Scott bolted up the stairs faster than he knew he could move. Fear could speed up even the slowest legs, he guessed. Within seconds, he was sprinting down the hall and into the master bedroom. He leapt through the door and immediately slammed it shut behind him. He tried to find a locking mechanism, but there wasn’t one. God damned old houses. He at once dismissed the idea of locked doors. They wouldn’t do much, anyway, he figured.
The room was dark, but his eyes were swiftly adjusting to the lack of light. He easily saw the bed, which held the still sleeping form of Bam. She stirred. The slamming of the door must have startled her awake. Scott rushed over to her and began to force her to a sitting position. “You have to get up. You have to get up now, Bam.” Holding her hands, he was trying to pull her to her feet, but she moved sluggishly, still partially asleep. “Wake up, Bam. Some bad people are here. We have to move.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Cops?”
“No,” he answered. “Someone else…for your dad.”
Bam suddenly became awake and aware, out of the bed and onto her bare feet. She instantly understood what the words meant, that some people had come for her dad. It also meant that those people had come for them as well. That could not be good. “That ain’t good,” she said, speaking her mind. “We have to move. But where are we going to go?”
Scott snatched the handgun from stand at the side of the bed. He checked it, making sure that it was loaded, off safety, and primed to shoot at people. Pointing it at the closed door, he considered standing his ground right there. The door was the only entrance and exit. He could shoot at any one that attempted entry into the room. But would that work? He didn’t know. He wasn’t a cop. He wasn’t a soldier. He was just a college kid. And he couldn’t risk having a shootout in such tight spaces, especially with Bam in that same tight space. She would most likely get hit during the exchange of bullets.
Instead, he went to the room’s single window. Through the glass, the night was laid out before him, calm and seemingly harmless. Scott couldn’t see anything suspicious at the front of the house. There was only the peaceful street, the other homes, and the neighbors well kempt lawns. No black SUV. No armed men standing and aiming assault rifles up at him. Only pouring rain. Only the illusion of safety.
He was sure that the safety was fake, but Scott knew that he had to take a chance.
He reached out his hand to Bam. “Let’s go.”
“Out the window?” She took a step back from him.
“We don’t have a choice,” Scott urged her. “Men with guns will be at that door any second.” Unlocking the window, he slid the glass upward and then waved Bam over. She came to him and then peered out. Her nerves were on edge and her fear was written in sweat and goosebumps all over the surface of her skin. Scott handed her the pistol, forcing her to grip its butt. “If we get separated…I want you to have this. Don’t argue. No time.”
Before Bam could attempt to hand the gun back, Scott took a hold of her waist and began to help her in climbing out. He slowly managed to lower her down onto the slightly arched top of the porch, which sat three feet below the window. While finding footing on the wooden surface of the porch top, Bam tried to keep the gun close to her chest.
A loud gunshot exploded from behind the house. The shot startled Bam and her bare feet, which had just touched down onto the top of the slick porch, started to slip and slid on the wet wood. She tried to regain her composure in order to gain a solid stance, but the smooth skin of feet couldn’t find a grip. She stumbled atop the slight arch of the porch and fell sideways toward the ground.
“Bam!” Scott shouted, cringing as his girlfriend, his love, hit the concrete of the wide sidewalk.
Scott went to put one leg out of the window but never got the chance. The door behind him busted open. He turned as a darkly clothed assassin, dressed in black from head to gun, entered the room. Before the assassin could fire his weapon at Scott, Scott went into action. He jumped to the bed and grabbed a thick pillow. Without stopping, he tossed the pillow at man’s face. The man flinched with uncontrollable reflex, granting Scott a fleeting advantage. Scott lunged his full body at the assassin, but the professional killer recovered in a fraction of a second and intercepted Scott’s attack by using the butt of the gun as a blunt weapon. He struck Scott across the face, causing Scott to immediately stumble backward. The man didn’t shoot Scott, as Scott expected, but kicked him swiftly in the stomach. Breath was forced from Scott’s lungs and he couldn’t stop himself from falling to his knees. He tried to get back up and strike with a punch, but the assassin easily batted away Scott’s attempt before putting a left-cross to the side of Scott’s head, causing Scott to become dizzy.
Another strike with the bottom of the assassin’s gun caught Scott at his right temple, causing consciousness to leave the overpowered college student.