Abuse of Power - Michael Savage [86]
The good news: the ape was firing crazily into near darkness, making no attempt to aim—which wasn’t surprising, if he felt anything close to the way Jack did. The guy was running on rage and adrenaline.
The bad news: he had a gun and Jack didn’t. And a stray bullet didn’t discriminate. Jack had no idea where the gun had come from, but that didn’t really matter much at this point. He also guessed he should have tied the bastard up.
Hindsight.
Sara was on her belly and clambering down the stairs, Jack close behind her. As they tumbled onto the landing, he jumped to his feet and pulled her up. They took off running as fast as their wobbly legs could carry them. They hurried down several more flights, occasionally gripping the rusty metal rail, struggling not to fall as the ape thundered down the stairwell after them, shouting in fury.
One floor, two floors, three floors, four floors—
—and then they were at the bottom and Sara lost her footing and yelped as her legs flew out from under her. She went sprawling, grunting in pain as she skidded across the dilapidated tile.
Jack ran after her and pulled her to her feet. “You okay?”
“I’ll live,” she told him. “Which is more than I could say an hour ago.”
He thought he detected the faintest hint of gratitude in that remark; it gave his stamina a much-needed shot.
They heard the ape no more than two floors above. Jack glanced around, trying to get his bearings. It was marginally lighter down here, moonlight coming in through broken windows, and he saw they were in the hospital lobby, about twenty yards behind the reception counter. The place looked as if it had been hit by a hurricane, trash and debris strewn across the floors, the walls and ceiling battered by years of neglect and bad weather.
The main entrance was twenty yards to the left of the reception counter, at right angles. The doors that once filled the double-wide frame were missing, leaving behind a gaping rectangle, the floor in front of it littered with broken glass. Outside, punctuated by distant street lamps, the pale moonlight shone down on a gravel drive, three cars parked haphazardly near the entrance—two of which he recognized from the attack in the alley.
Three cars.
The ape wasn’t alone.
As if on cue they heard a crash in the long hallway behind them, light spilling through an open doorway as more of Swain’s men emerged from the room beyond. Glancing at the cars again, Jack remembered the keys he’d taken off the ape, then grabbed Sara’s hand.
“Come on!”
They stumbled toward the main entrance, Jack pulling her along, using momentum more than anything else to carry him. They passed the reception counter, ducking low to use it as a shield, just as a shot cracked, splintering wood. Sara yelped and Jack jerked her sideways, then started zigzagging, trying to make them as difficult a target as possible. He stayed close to the benches in the waiting area as they afforded some protection from the gunmen.
Shots gouged the seatbacks, causing the chairs to rattle on their metal bases. Their shoes crunched glass and then they were outside and headed for the cars—two SUVs and a BMW behind them. Jack yanked the keys from his pocket as they ran. He jabbed at the buttons on one of the keys and the BMW chirp-chirped as its doors unlocked.
Swain’s men were shouting behind them. More shots pinged off the asphalt and the SUVs as Jack instinctively darted toward the left side of the vehicle, then suddenly remembered he was in England. Swearing, he pulled open the rear door and shoved Sara in, then got into the front seat and scrambled across it. He got behind the wheel and jammed the key into the ignition.
A shot shattered the rear window and Sara yelped again, glass showering around her, as Jack started the engine and stomped on the accelerator.
He had no idea where they were. A wooded area, surrounded by thick trees that looked malevolent in the moonlight. From the outside the hospital looked old, very old. It was a majestic, neglected relic from another century, from