Getting Home

Part 22

Sean stayed low, gun drawn, turning left immediately after leaving the Sergeant's office and going towards the gunfire.

She'll be okay there, Sean thought.

Yeah, right—this is Ava we're talking about.

The side of his face stung—it felt strange when he touched it, marbled yet sharp and textured. Ava had said it was glass, but there was no blood to be found on his hand.

The gunshots continued as he hurried towards stairwell. Active shooter. Rifle-fire from the department's multiple M4 Carbines joined into the chorus of pistol shots as Sean started down.

What the hell could they be shooting at THAT much?

Even if some crazy group had tried to storm the station, they should have already been quelled by the amount of firepower—but even more department guns were joining the fray; big shotguns with deep, colossal BOOM!'s that Sean felt like a thud in his chest every time they went off.

He was halfway down the stairs when there was a massive crash that reverberated through the building. The lights in the stairwell flickered, then went off—leaving Sean in the dark.

He pulled out his flashlight from his belt, clicking it on as the fire alarm began to blare.

What the hell is going on?

As he neared the bottom of the stairs, holding his pistol out and flashlight tactically held underneath it, a low rumbling starting, vibrating the floor.

Jesus, is that... is that a TANK?

Sean gulped. Doesn't matter. Just find some other officers—group up.

He came out of the stairs into the darkened hallway. His flashlight lit up the labeling on the wall in front of him: CONFERENCE—BRIEFING—FORENSICS.

It was quiet and dark down here. Empty. There was no fire alarm blaring down here either. The gunshots still sounded far away, but they were finally beginning to slow down in frequency.

Good job, idiot—you went the WRONG way. Everyone must be on the other side of the station.

The lobby.

Sean turned that way, still staying low with his pistol out—everything was dead, quiet, and dark down here, but he knew to always be ready... and on guard.

There was a sound to his left.

He whipped the pistol in that direction, the flashlight aim landing on the door placard: FILES.

Something thudded against the door, making Sean jump. He saw the door bounce in the doorframe.

Great, Sean thought. What now?

Maybe someone was hurt behind the door.

There was a short burst of gunfire from somewhere far away—it faded away back to silence almost as quickly as it had risen.

Or a trap.

Don't run away, Sean thought... weakly. Whatever was in there, he was not going to run away this time.

Or so he told himself.

Just go back upstairs and check on Ava, his mind whispered. You can make sure she's safe... and then you'll be safe too.

Sean didn't move, frozen in his thoughts.

Just go back.

Then there was a noise that Sean thought was familiar...