Turbinio

Tobacco and Coffee

Lucy. You stood still, perplexed, for a moment, watching the dinosaur's lifeless body, deaf to your internal screams. Finally, you snapped out of your stupor and tried to think. The door was locked, surely the key was somewhere and it wasn't too difficult to find it in the pocket of the president's overcoat, who was watching your movements with clear awareness, but paralyzed by the poison coursing through his veins. You avoided looking at him - you didn't want to imagine that in a few minutes you'd be next.

Valentine was the president; there was probably no one with more authority in the Independence Hall. So he could certainly use the premises to create a sanctuary for himself as he pleased. But as far as you knew, there wasn't any kind of infirmary in the place; so where could Lucy Steel be?

You took a deep breath, resolutely pushing out of your mind any thought of what might have happened since the morning and rushed to the door, unlocking it abruptly and then bumping into a soldier who was rushing in. The president had probably ordered him to ignore any unusual noises such as shouting or gunshots; that soldier had been ordered to do so before, for sure, so he wasn't bothered by the clear sounds of fighting inside the place.

The man staggered backward and tried to keep his balance with several zigzag steps. You also lost your balance and crashed into the doorframe, your left side going completely numb and hitting your head. You clung to the door for support, the ringing of a bell in your ears with the echoes of Diego's words: ''I have two plans, but that's not something you need to worry about... just know that I'll be there.''

It was hard to say, you thought dazedly, who was more surprised. You groped wildly for your pocket knife, cursing your stupidity for not having armed yourself before opening the door.

The guard, once he had regained his balance, stared at you in shock with his mouth open, but you could sense that your moment of surprise had already slipped from your grasp. You yanked out the pocketknife, leaning over and in a motion that continued upwards with all the force you could muster. The tip of the blade hit the soldier right under the chin as he brought his hand to his waist. His hands rose halfway to his throat, then, with a look of surprise and pain, he staggered back to the wall and slid down it slowly, as the life drained from his body. Like you, he went to investigate without bothering to draw his gun first and that little carelessness cost his life. God's grace had saved you from this mistake; you couldn't make any more. Feeling cold, you stepped over the writhing body. The sudden brightness came when you pulled a knife much sharper and much heavier than a pocketknife from his holster. A gun would be too noisy; you couldn't attract attention.

You ran back the way you came, to the bend in the stairs. There were no guards; the president's orders to deal with the press required every man in the building. There was a place by the wall where you couldn't be seen from either side; you leaned on the wall and allowed yourself a moment of nausea and trembling.

Wiping your sweaty hands on your clothes, you took a firm hold of the guard's tactical knife. It was now your only weapon; you had neither the time nor the stomach to retrieve the pocketknife that was at the man's throat. Maybe it would be better this way, you thought, rubbing your fingers on the handle of the knife; there was very little blood and you shrank at the thought of the gush that would follow if you had removed the knife.

With the knife firmly in your hand, you cautiously peered into the corridor. The guards who had inadvertently gone to control the crowd outside had gone to the left, down the stairs, and you did the same, returning to the second floor. You had no idea how long it would take them to complete the task, but you certainly knew that there must be some guards with Lucy. With no reason to prefer one direction over the other for your search, it made sense to approach any whispers you heard.