Chapter 8 - The Siege of Room 4
A deafening klaxon roared through the dispatch floor as bright red strobe lights replaced the amber emergency lighting. From the ceiling tiles, high-pressure carbon dioxide fire-suppression fog burst forth in violent, freezing clouds, instantly blinding the room and plunging the temperature to near freezing.
Vance cursed loudly, firing two blind shots toward Ethan's position.
*Pft! Pft!*
The suppressed rounds shattered a computer monitor behind Ethan, sending plastic shards flying.
Ethan had already dropped to his knees, using his intimate knowledge of the room’s layout to navigate through the thick, freezing fog. He crawled along the base of the desk rows, his heavy pry bar gripped tightly in his right hand.
Vance coughed hysterically as the CO2 fog stripped the oxygen from the air around him. "Miller!" he roared, firing another wild shot into the mist. "You think this saves you?!"
Ethan came up behind Vance like a ghost. He swung the heavy steel pry bar with all the strength in his arms, striking Vance sharply across his wrist.
*Crack!*
Vance screamed in pain as his silenced handgun was knocked from his grip, clattering across the floor and sliding into the dark space beneath the central server rack.
Vance spun around with predatory speed, slashing wild with his tactical knife. The blade caught Ethan across his left forearm, slicing through his jacket and skin. Ethan gasped as hot blood welled up, but he didn't stop. He slammed the heavy head of his flashlight directly into Vance's jaw.
Vance stumbled backward, crashing into a rolling desk chair and collapsing to the floor.
Ethan lunged for the server room door, slamming his hand against the bio-metric keypad. "Janet! Open the secondary door! Out the emergency fire exit! NOW!"
The glass door slid open, and the terrified dispatchers poured out into the rear emergency stairwell, sprinting down the stairs toward the street level.
Ethan turned back to see Vance pushing himself off the floor, blood streaming from his lip, his knife still gripped tightly in his hand. Vance’s face was transformed into a mask of pure, unadulterated fury.
"I’m going to cut you to pieces, Miller!" Vance spat, lunging forward.
Before Vance could reach the threshold of the stairwell, a sudden, heavy impact echoed through the glass doors behind him.
The main security doors of the dispatch center were smashed open with a hydraulic breacher.
"POLICE! DON'T MOVE!"
Sergeant Ray Cordero burst through the thick CO2 fog, flanked by four heavily armed SWAT officers with red tactical laser beams cutting through the mist.
Vance froze, the red laser dots dancing across his chest and forehead.
"Drop the knife! DROP IT NOW!" Cordero roared, his shotgun leveled directly at Vance's chest.
Vance stood frozen in the freezing fog, breathing heavily, his eyes darting from Cordero to Ethan. For three agonizing seconds, it looked as though the convicted killer was going to choose death by cop, bracing his weight to lunge forward with the knife.
"Do it," Ethan said softly from the stairwell door, clutching his bleeding arm. "Give them a reason, Marcus. Please."
Vance looked into Ethan’s cold, unflinching eyes. The madness in Vance's expression slowly washed away, replaced by a bitter, defeated resignation.
He opened his hand. The tactical knife clattered to the floor.
"Get on the ground! Face down!" the SWAT officers barked, instantly swarming Vance, driving him to the linoleum floor and securing his arms behind his back with heavy plastic flex-cuffs.
Cordero lowered his shotgun, walking over to Ethan. He looked at Ethan’s bloody arm, then at the sprawling, fog-filled room.
"You alright, Miller?" Cordero asked, his voice shaking slightly.
Ethan took a deep, shuddering breath, wrapping a clean shop towel around his bleeding forearm. "I’m fine, Ray. Where’s Kane?"
"State Police K-9 unit picked up his trail in the woods twenty minutes ago," Cordero said, pulling his radio up. "He tried to cross the flooded creek. The dog pinned him against a culvert. Kane’s in cuffs. Brody’s dead. It’s over, Ethan. We got all three."
Ethan looked over at Vance, who was being dragged to his feet by two SWAT officers. As they marched the bruised and bloody fugitive toward the exit, Vance turned his head and locked eyes with Ethan one last time.
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"It doesn't change anything, Miller," Vance sneered, blood spilling over his teeth. "She’s still going to hear noises in the dark. You can't fix what we put inside her head."
Ethan looked Vance dead in the eye and said nothing. He didn't need to.
