My heart fell through the adrenaline, and I slammed my body in to the door. Being lightweight usually worked in my favor, but this time it didn't. I cursed as my shoulder bounced painfully off the metal.
"Gill!" Lightman yelled. When I stepped back to re-analyze the situation - mainly the lock, grappling for the mutli-purpose tool I had stuck in my pocket - he stormed past me, trying the same move I did. The door rattled in its frame, and without hesitation, he did it again, the metal door breaking free of the lock and creaking open slowly. We both looked on in horror.
"Door." I pointed at him. He was frozen, staring at her. Gillian was tied to a chair, her wrists bound behind her back. She'd managed to spit out the gag, but her face was rubbed raw in several places, and her body was covered in rags and dried blood. She shivered in only an oversized white t-shirt and underwear.
"Dr. Lightman, I need you to WATCH THE DOOR." I repeated, bending down behind her and flipping open the knife. Her wrists were rubbed bright red but thankfully didn't seem to be bleeding, and they fell limply to her sides. Finally Lightman stepped back to the door, watching us over his shoulder every couple seconds. This was getting dangerous, fast.
"Leila." My name was soft and weak on her lips. I draped my field coat over her shoulders before bending down to free her legs.
"Dr. Foster, can you walk?" I asked seriously, sawing through the rope while trying to watch her skin. Her ankles weren't as lucky as her wrists, and the rope was soaked in blood. She'd lost so much blood. I wiped the back of my free hand across my forehead.
"I think..." She pulled the jacket around herself, startlng when she found the compact handgun in the pocket.
"You need that you use it." I said seriously, standing up and offering her my hand. "Come on."
"Gillian..." Lightman choked out her name when I led her out the door. Her steps were tenative.
"You have time for a reunion later." I snapped. "Here, you help her." My glock was balanced comfortably back in my hand. "Not slowly, either."
We limped down the hall, essentially a sitting duck, and I didn't have to fire until we had slipped out the exit door towards the van. One perfectly aimed shot took out the rooftop sniper as we clambered in to the back of the white van, and I emptied my clip at group who swarmed out of the building as we pulled away.
"Oh, God." Ria was crouched next to Gillian, pressing a wet washcloth at her face, which Cal held on his lap. He was running his fingers through her hair.
"Give her a glucose gel and a bottle of water." I said, trying to think as I climbed toward the front. The kevlar was tight around my heaving chest, holding a layer of sweat and heat next to my heart. "And start checking her for anything that's still bleeding. Try and get a prelim... Hospital, Eli." I braced myself against the passenger seat, prodding at the GPS and leaving dirty smears on it.
"Are you-" He started.
"I'm fine. I'm fine." I cut him off. "But hurry."
It was then that I caught a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror. My forehead had a smear of blood along it, and I could smell gunpowder residue on my hand.
"Hannah, we're coming in hot to West Arlington, can you get me priority clearance at an E.R.?" I leaned against the bench seat, pressing my phone between my shoulder and cheek as I carefully pulled up the hem of Gillian's shirt. "Yeah, yeah - I'd code it as a 236. Thank you. I'll see you there." Her ribs were bruised and there were lacerations on her stomach, but her chest seemed to be falling regularly, and there weren't any signs of breaks.
God, what had this become?