I sat on the cold, wet ground for I suppose about an hour. I watched
my captor as he studied the maps in front of him, pausing accordingly
to speak into his radio. I scanned the room silently, looking for
anything to aid my escape. Pushed against a far wall was an old
office desk. Barely discernable in the darkness of the boiler room
were the outlines of the handheld radios I had seen earlier. They
must have been collected and placed down here for safe keeping after
the men switched over to the smaller radios. If I could get out of
this place, I would need to get one of the radios and find the right
channel to contact the police. I looked over at the young man
hovering over the building plans.
"How'd you meet Carter?" I asked hesitantly.
"Why do you care?" he shot back harshly.
"Just curious. I mean, you look a lot younger than most of these guys. I assume you haven't known him long."
"Well you're wrong. I've known him since I was a kid. He and his wife practically raised me. They kept me off the streets when I was a teenager; my parents weren't around much – drug addicts. Phil kept me straight."
"Straight? This is what you call straight? Murdering and torturing innocent people? If this is what you think straight means, I'd hate to see what you'd do if you went bad."
"Shut up! You don't know nothin'. You and all your little college preps. We're just doing what has to be done. It's the only way to get their attention. To let them know we're serious!"
"Please! What's with the 'we?' I can tell from the look in your eye that you're just as scared of him as the rest of these hostages. That's what you are, you know? You're his hostage, too. Only you're worse off than the rest of us. He's got us by gunpoint. He's got you by guilt."
"That's enough. You don't know what you're talking about, bitch!"
"Oh, I think I do. And I think you know it, too. You're just sticking with him because you think you owe him something. But you know what? You don't. I can't believe that anyone could do anything for you that was equivalent to the sacrifice you've made for him."
"What sacrifice?"
"Your freedom. He's got a chain around you. You think that because he makes you money, because he treats you like 'family,' you owe it to him to stick around. But you don't want to do you? I can see it right now. You're terrified and you want out. But you can't get out now. If you rat on them, Carter will kill you. If the police come storming in, they'll probably kill you. See that's really what your sacrifice will be. Your life."
"It'll be worth it."
"No it won't. It never is. You think you'll go down in a blaze of glory or something? It doesn't work that way, Wyatt Earp. You'll die and all the newspaper will say is that the police managed to effectively retrieve the hostages after taking down several of Carter's men. That's what you are. One of Carter's men. And after you're dead, that's all you'll ever be. So I guess you've also given up you own existence. To be what exactly? I mean, being as close to him as you are, do you have a job title or something? Besides, the jack ass with the floor plans."
"That's it. I've been patient enough. Keep your mouth shut from now on or the tape goes back over your mouth and I throw you back up from the beams. You understand?" he screamed, gesturing madly with an open pocketknife pulled from his side pocket, hoping to effectively scare me.
"Sorry. I'll shut up. Didn't know I hit a nerve," I said, calmly as I could, staring at him coldly, matching his eyes with my own. I was determined not to let him see my fear.
He huffed, trying to think of something to say, or trying to avoid saying something he'd regret, then turned back towards the table and jammed the knife into the tabletop. Allowing the echo of its impact to be the only expression of his frustration. He looked at me once more, his lips tensed, his eyes cold, and both fists clenched. Then he turned and walked to the end of the room, whispering into the earpiece to one of the other men.
The opportunity now present, I reached up slowly, scooting a little way across the floor, and grasped the knife handle tightly. Every muscle in my body screamed in protest as I worked the knife free from the desk and brought it down to rest by my side. I closed my eyes. Trying to summon all the energy I had for what I was planning to do next. After a few deep breaths, which hurt more than actual movement, I opened my eyes again. My target was still across the room talking into the radio intently. I slowly and painfully brought my legs up under me, now squatting against the post behind me. Placing one hand on post, and gripping tightly to the knife with the other, I slowly slid myself up to a standing position. The cold metal of the post felt like broken glass against the lash marks beneath my shirt. I winced at the sharpness of the pain but forced my body to stand. I paused a moment, my full weight against the post, almost blacking out from the pain and fatigue these simple motions caused. I watched the young man across the room for a while, hoping he wouldn't turn to see me before I was ready. He was talking to someone, laughing lightly, his back fully turned towards me. I waited silently, not really sure what I was waiting for, but in the next instant I heard it.
"Okay, Unit Two out," he said, reaching up towards his vest and turning the radio off.
Without a second thought, I launched myself across the room, straight towards to figure before me. The scream I that came from me as I attacked both motivated and frightened me. I hit his back with the full force of my body, knocking him onto his stomach. He struggled beneath me, his right elbow shooting up and landing straight into lower lip. Stunned, I shifted my weight to the left, leaving him enough room to roll over and grab my right arm at the wrist, trying to prevent the knife from falling into his chest. I reached over with my free hand but his shot up and grabbed my left wrist as well. I used all the weight I had to keep him from rolling me over while still trying to push the knife down to him. It scares me now to think of how much I wanted to hurt him. How badly I wanted him dead. He was just a child really, but a dangerous one and I knew that it was either he or I. We both fought with all we had, each trying to gain control of the metal blade in my hand, both grunting and growling like wild animals fighting over a kill. I could taste the blood welling up in my mouth from the blow he delivered, but the once sickening salty taste now only fueled my raging fire.
He let go of my left wrist and grabbed my throat. The air began to escape from me, but I still fought. I smashed my now free hand into his face, clasping my fingers across his mouth, pressing the back of his head as hard as I could against the cold concrete beneath us. His groans were muffled beneath my hand. His face was red and his eyes were watering. I realized that he was suffocating but my own breathlessness from his chokehold prevented me from caring. His grasp on my throat loosened enough to allow me a few shallow breaths. The precious oxygen flooded my body, returning to normal my blurring vision. I pushed down on the hand holding the knife with a newfound strength, forcing his left arm down a couple of inches. His eyes closed and he screamed beneath my tight grip as I jabbed my knee into his stomach. My hand and the knife dropped a few more inches towards his body. He removed his clenched hand from my throat as his legs thrashed on the floor behind me. Straddling his body as I was made his legs useless, and his struggle with them was a waste of energy. He grabbed the forearm above the hand that was blocking his scream and forced it up along with the hand holding the knife. He gasped for air as he struggled to lift me off of him. As he pushed against my right arm, fighting off the knife, he allowed his other arm, still grasping my forearm, to fall back. This allowed me to shift my weight to the left more and opened the playing field between the two arms fighting for control of the blade.
I pushed as hard as I could against his upward thrust. As my arm began to give and the knife blade began to come slowly towards me, I lifted myself up slightly and felled my knee as hard as I could into his stomach one more time. As he gasped from the force of the lunge, his muscular reflex was to weaken his left arm against my weight. As he relaxed his arm, my own, still under the full strength of my push, fell hard and straight at his throat. As the blade sliced through his flesh, sectioning his jugular and trachea, every muscle in his body tensed for a single instant. Then, as the blood began to stream from his gashed throat and gasping mouth, his body relaxed and he choked out one last breath.
As his grip on my arms was released, I unclenched my hand from the knife and sat up, staring down into his face. His eyes were open, staring blankly towards the ceiling. I remained on top of him for a long time, staring down at the blood on the floor and my hand. I turned my right hand over and over; staring in disbelief at the lines of blood that trickled down it. I was suddenly aware of the warm tears flowing down my cheeks. I could not recall when I had started crying, but part of me knew it had been long before the knife fell upon the man's throat that now lay beneath me.
"Why did you do this?" I asked softly, fighting back the madness that was building within me. "Why couldn't you have just left us alone? Damn you! You were too young to die! Why did you make me do this?" I was stifling screams, my fists clenched and my jaw locked. I broke down into sobs, lowering my face into my bloody hands, trying to stop my body as it quaked beneath me, every muscle trembling. I brought my face up from my hands, as I tasted the acid building in my mouth. I crawled off of the body and managed to pull away a few feet before my stomach relieved it's tension onto the hard floor. I choked tears and saliva hitting the floor with equal violence. I curled up against the wall, too weak and disillusioned to move.
Moments later I heard the faint static of the radio the young man had used to keep in contact with the others. The communication device had been knocked from his ear and was lying next to his shoulder; the cord still attached to the pack strapped around his waist. I could not hear what the voice on the other end was saying but I knew that once they realized he was not going to answer them, they would come down to find out what was going on. I realized that I had to get out of there immediately. I ran to the table holding the floor plans. I shuffled through them, quickly locating the tunnel maps. The maps weren't as easy to read as I had hoped, but I soon saw that the entrance to the tunnels for the building I was in was on the other side of the boiler room. I memorized as much as I could, too afraid to take the map, thinking that if they saw it was missing, they would know exactly where to come looking for me. I grabbed one of the handheld radios off the other table and switched it on. I switched it on; scanning the channels for voices, but in the end heard nothing. I turned off the unit to save the batteries and decided to wait until I was some distance into the tunnels before trying to contact anyone.
I was making my way across the room, towards the tunnel entrance when I remembered what I had heard the young man say about guarding the tunnels. Carter's men were already in there. Probably not too far in from the perimeter of the building. I realized then that I would need a weapon. This game was going to be a lot more complicated than just hide-and-seek. I remembered the man saying he didn't want to have to shoot me. He'd had a gun. I looked back at the body. His holster was empty; I could not recall him even trying to reach for it during the struggle. He'd left it somewhere as carelessly as he had left the knife. I searched the room with my eyes, trying to make out the dark shape of a handgun. I saw it on the table he had been standing at during his last communication with Carter. I rushed over and grabbed it, turned off the safety, and tried to trick myself into thinking I knew more about weapons that what I had seen in the movies.
As I turned away from the table, I noticed again the young man's radio lying next to him on the floor. I knelt down, removed the pack from his waist, and attached the radio to myself. I thought that if I could monitor their communications, I could stay a few steps ahead of them. I also took form the body the small flashlight he had in one of the side pockets of his pants. As I pulled it out, a small piece of paper slid out with it and fell to the floor. I picked it up and turned it over. In the dim light I could see the lovely face of a young woman, about the age of the boy lying next to me. On the back was written: For Johnny, you don't know how much you mean to me. Love, Sarah. I closed my eyes, slowly released the breath I had been holding as I read the inscription. "So, you were in love," I said softly, looking down into the cold stare of the boy I now knew was Johnny. "I told you it wasn't worth it." The radio came to life in my ear, causing me to jump. The unknown voice was calling for Unit Two to answer, but Unit Two would never answer to anyone again. I knew that after another unresponsive call they would be heading down to the boiler room any second. I gently reached up and closed Johnny's eyes before I stood and quickly made my way to the other side of the room.
I paused in front of the entrance to the tunnels. The light in the tunnel was sparse. Only a few fluorescent lights were sporadically hung down the length of tunnel I could see before me. I eased my way down the few steps from the boiler room into the tunnel itself. I pressed my back against the smooth stone wall. The hardness of it hurt, but the cool dampness of the wall eased the heat of the pain. I gripped the gun in my hand tightly. In front of me was a sharp right turn. In my mind, I knew one of Carter's men was lurking around that corner. I jumped a little as the hot pipes above me suddenly hissed, the cool condensation dripping on them. I pressed myself against the wall tighter as I raised my weapon, aiming at whatever might be ahead of me. I collected myself and stepped around corner. Standing there, with his back to me, was one of Carter's men. He was leaning against the left side of the tunnel watching directly ahead of him. He hadn't heard me approach, he was completely entranced in the task of preventing the police entrance to the building.
"She's gone! All units, one of the hostages is gone! She's killed Johnny!" the radio came to life in my ear. I jumped and so did the man in front of me. "Check the tunnels, make sure she didn't make it out," the bodiless voice commanded.
At that, the guard turned and faced directly into the barrel of my gun. The shock on his face, I'm sure, matched the terror in my own. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him reach for his own sidearm and with the reflexes of a seasoned officer, I squeezed the trigger. All I saw was the flash from the gun and then the instant redness on his chest. I had fired directly into his heart. He fell to his knees, clutching his chest, astonishment and pain intermingling in his expression. I kept the gun aimed on him, not moving until he fell over onto ground. I instinctually grabbed his weapon and tucked it into the waistband of my jeans and started to move away from him, further into the tunnel. I didn't even stop to think about the coldness I had felt when I had shot him. I had made an unconscious decision to kill any and all of Carter's men that got in my way. I had to get out of that place. I wasn't the only person in danger. I promised Vanessa that I would get her out, that she wouldn't have to die in that room that day.
"Was that gunfire?" a voice on the radio asked.
Another chimed in, "What was that?"
"All units check in. Now!" Carter's voice demanded through the airways.
I knew it wouldn't be long before they found out which unit was down. I picked up my pace, almost running, wanting to move ahead as quickly as possible, but still aware that there may be others ahead of me. I tried to bring up a mental image of the tunnel map, praying I wouldn't make a wrong turn and end up back in the Science Hall. I kept moving in the direction I thought was West, towards the campus chapel, the closest building to the Science Hall. I turned on the handheld radio, careful not to turn up the volume too far. I switched through the stations, stopping at each one announcing my name and where I was. I stopped walking, leaned up against the wall, and watching both ends of the tunnel for Carter's men, flipped through channel after channel, pausing only moments for a response. After a while I began to worry that maybe the radio didn't work or that Carter had rigged it to only work on certain channels for security purposes. Then, just as I was about to give up on one channel, a voice stopped me.
"Hello?" a woman's voice called from the device in my hand. "Hello? Is someone on here?"
"Hello! Yes. Please, I need the police. I'm one of the hostages at the college. I need to talk to the police!" I said into the microphone, wanting to scream the words in desperation.
"Okay. Just calm down honey. I'm on a walkie-talkie about a mile from campus, in the park. You have to give me time to find someone. Keep talking to me."
"I can't keep talking. I'm hiding, you need to hurry. I've killed a couple of their men, they're going to find me soon."
"You what? You killed…I mean, okay, I'll hurry. I'm in my car now, just leaving the park. I'll tell you when I reach the campus."
I had been half-listening to the chaos on Carter's radios. They were done searching the building and close to realizing one of the tunnel guards was down. If they saw that one of the radios were missing, they would know to try to monitor them as well. I had to keep as quiet as possible should they discover what channel I was on. I moved down the tunnel further, probing through the dim light, too afraid to use my flashlight, hoping not to alert anyone ahead of my presence.
"Okay, sweetie. I'm at the campus. The roads are blocked. I'm going to give the radio to one of the policemen up ahead. Good luck, honey."
"Thank you," I said without pushing the 'talk' button. I was thanking the Fates now, more than I was thanking her.
After a few more yards I saw a small alcove in the wall. There was a drain in the floor within it and a light trickle of water falling from an open pipe in the ceiling. It smelled almost like sewage, but it was the only place to hide in a straight tunnel and I needed a relatively safe place to rest. I pressed myself into the small space, the stinking water dripping onto my shoulder. Seconds later, the radio in my ear came to life.
"Alpha Team, move back. We can't find the woman. Secure the building perimeter, make sure she isn't in the tunnels." there was an acknowledgement from the team leader who asked each of his units to check in. It only took him a few seconds to find that one unit would not respond.
The call went out that I had made it to the tunnels. The tunnel team was working their way back towards the science building. That meant some of them were making their way towards me. I had no idea how many. I assumed only a couple, but one could prove to be enough. A few seconds later, the handheld broke it's silence and the voice of the man, who could have been until that time a figment of Carter's imagination, came through loud and clear.
"Hello? This is special agent Frank Donovan. Is anyone there?" I stared at the radio for a while. Unable to comprehend that so far, my plan was working. "Hello?"
"Yes," I stuttered, the tears sneaking down my face, "I'm here."
"Who is this?" the voice calmly inquired.
"My name is Katherine Connor. I'm a biology instructor here at the school."
"Okay, Miss Connor, we have your name. Where are you?"
"In the tunnels. I think I'm between the Science Hall and the Chapel. You have to help me. They know I'm down here now. I've killed two of their men. Carter ordered the men in the tunnels back to the building. They're going to find me soon."
"How do you know he ordered them back?"
"I took one of their radios. I've been monitoring them."
"That was a very good move, Kate," Donovan said. His was the first human voice I had heard in hours that did not terrify me. "Okay, Kate, I assume you have a weapon, right?"
"Yes, handgun," I answered, unable to give him more information on the firearm.
"Good. Now listen, should anyone find you down there, do not hesitate to take whatever action you feel is necessary. I want you to do whatever it takes to stay alive."
"I already have," I answered, letting the hand with the radio fall to my side. I closed my eyes and rested my head against the wall. Every muscle in my body was pleading with me, trying to force me down. But I could not rest now. I was too close and Carter's men were coming back down the tunnel.
I could hear their heavy footsteps on the hard, wet floor as they neared me. I tightened my grip on my weapon and prepared for a confrontation. But in their haste to make it back to the building, they moved right past me, their eyes looking at nothing but the uncertain darkness ahead. I stuck my head out enough to watch them until they almost disappeared in the dim light. I quickly made my way from my hiding place and down the tunnel in the direction from which the men had come. I had just turned the corner when I heard one of Carter's men come over the radio.
"Come on, Tim. We just came through, there's no one back there."
"I know I heard something. Thought I saw something, too"
"What's going on, gentlemen?" Carter's voice broke in.
"I thought I heard someone in the tunnel behind us, sir," said the second voice.
"Probably just a rat," interjected the first.
"Well, check it out. Then get back here," Carter commanded.
Both men acknowledge the order.
"Okay, Tim, at least wait for me to catch up," came the first voice.
"Whatever. Hey, ain't we supposed to not use our real names?" the second voice teased. Only this time I didn't just hear his words in the earpiece. I heard it echo from around the corner. I threw myself against the wall, closely eyeing the edge of the corner for a shadow or the barrel of a gun.
"See anything Tim?" said the first voice over the radio.
"Nah. Guess I'm just being paranoid."
"Okay, then let's get back. These tunnels give me the creeps."
I heard the man around the corner begin to step away. As I began to relax, grateful for their departure, a voice came over the handheld louder than I would have liked.
"Miss Connor? Are you still there? Kate?" Donovan asked, searching the silence.
Before I could react, the man they had called Tim threw himself around the corner. His gun was up before mine and without a second thought, he fired. I dodged, but it was not enough. The bullet hit my left shoulder, knocking me to the ground. The radio fell next to me. I could still hear Donovan's voice calling for me to respond.
"Mr. Carter, sir, I have her," Tim shouted as I rolled onto my side. I had dropped my gun and was clutching my shoulder.
"Good," Carter replied, "Kill her." I heard the words exactly when Tim did over the radio. I saw him nod and position his weapon above me out of the corner of my eye.
"You got her Tim?" asked a voice close to us.
"Yeah," Tim answered, turning his head to watch his partner approach.
As he turned, I reached down and grabbed the gun tucked into my waistband. I pulled it out and pointed it at the man above me. As he began to look back at me, I pulled the trigger repeatedly, sending three bullets flailing into his chest and stomach. The force of each hit caused him to fall back, his body convulsing with each explosion. He hit the wall behind him and slid down as his legs gave way to his weight.
"Tim!" I heard the other man scream.
Too worried about his friend he came around the corner and fell to Tim's side. In shock, he turned towards me, his hands trembling as he tried to steady the rifle in their grasp. Before his hand was on the trigger, I unloaded three more bullets into him. He fell face down across his partner's legs.
I fell back against the wet ground, letting the gun slip from my grasp. I had done everything I could physically do at that point. I could hear Donovan's voice still pleading for a response. I rolled over, almost onto my stomach, and pushed the button on the radio. All I could say was, "The tunnel from the Chapel is clear." At that point, every muscle in my body went limp, and everything went dark.
I do not know how long I lay there waiting to die. But I eventually heard the sound of footsteps coming from what I thought was the direction of the Chapel. I could not bring myself to look up as they reached me. I could only see their shadows as they surveyed the scene. One of them knelt beside me. I jumped when the person reached out and touched my arm. As surprised as I was by the contact, the warmth of the hand on my skin comforted me. I was slowly rolled over onto my back. I opened my eyes to see a group of men standing above me. I looked at the hand on my arm. Following it up to the man by my side. He was of a large build, dark features. I couldn't get a clear picture of him in the dim light and my eyes wouldn't focus on anything clearly. Although the face eluded me, I recognized the voice immediately.
"Miss Connor? I'm Frank Donovan. You're safe now. A couple of my men are going to take you out of here. You need medical attention." I saw him raise his arm, apparently gesturing to his men. I threw my hand up, grabbing his extended arm. He looked down at me.
"Vanessa. I promised her I wouldn't leave her. I can't let her die here," I strained to say through heavy gasps.
"Don't worry about your friend. We'll get everyone out we can, I promise."
His voice was fading and my head began to feel heavy. The last thing I felt was strain in my neck as my head fell back.
"How'd you meet Carter?" I asked hesitantly.
"Why do you care?" he shot back harshly.
"Just curious. I mean, you look a lot younger than most of these guys. I assume you haven't known him long."
"Well you're wrong. I've known him since I was a kid. He and his wife practically raised me. They kept me off the streets when I was a teenager; my parents weren't around much – drug addicts. Phil kept me straight."
"Straight? This is what you call straight? Murdering and torturing innocent people? If this is what you think straight means, I'd hate to see what you'd do if you went bad."
"Shut up! You don't know nothin'. You and all your little college preps. We're just doing what has to be done. It's the only way to get their attention. To let them know we're serious!"
"Please! What's with the 'we?' I can tell from the look in your eye that you're just as scared of him as the rest of these hostages. That's what you are, you know? You're his hostage, too. Only you're worse off than the rest of us. He's got us by gunpoint. He's got you by guilt."
"That's enough. You don't know what you're talking about, bitch!"
"Oh, I think I do. And I think you know it, too. You're just sticking with him because you think you owe him something. But you know what? You don't. I can't believe that anyone could do anything for you that was equivalent to the sacrifice you've made for him."
"What sacrifice?"
"Your freedom. He's got a chain around you. You think that because he makes you money, because he treats you like 'family,' you owe it to him to stick around. But you don't want to do you? I can see it right now. You're terrified and you want out. But you can't get out now. If you rat on them, Carter will kill you. If the police come storming in, they'll probably kill you. See that's really what your sacrifice will be. Your life."
"It'll be worth it."
"No it won't. It never is. You think you'll go down in a blaze of glory or something? It doesn't work that way, Wyatt Earp. You'll die and all the newspaper will say is that the police managed to effectively retrieve the hostages after taking down several of Carter's men. That's what you are. One of Carter's men. And after you're dead, that's all you'll ever be. So I guess you've also given up you own existence. To be what exactly? I mean, being as close to him as you are, do you have a job title or something? Besides, the jack ass with the floor plans."
"That's it. I've been patient enough. Keep your mouth shut from now on or the tape goes back over your mouth and I throw you back up from the beams. You understand?" he screamed, gesturing madly with an open pocketknife pulled from his side pocket, hoping to effectively scare me.
"Sorry. I'll shut up. Didn't know I hit a nerve," I said, calmly as I could, staring at him coldly, matching his eyes with my own. I was determined not to let him see my fear.
He huffed, trying to think of something to say, or trying to avoid saying something he'd regret, then turned back towards the table and jammed the knife into the tabletop. Allowing the echo of its impact to be the only expression of his frustration. He looked at me once more, his lips tensed, his eyes cold, and both fists clenched. Then he turned and walked to the end of the room, whispering into the earpiece to one of the other men.
The opportunity now present, I reached up slowly, scooting a little way across the floor, and grasped the knife handle tightly. Every muscle in my body screamed in protest as I worked the knife free from the desk and brought it down to rest by my side. I closed my eyes. Trying to summon all the energy I had for what I was planning to do next. After a few deep breaths, which hurt more than actual movement, I opened my eyes again. My target was still across the room talking into the radio intently. I slowly and painfully brought my legs up under me, now squatting against the post behind me. Placing one hand on post, and gripping tightly to the knife with the other, I slowly slid myself up to a standing position. The cold metal of the post felt like broken glass against the lash marks beneath my shirt. I winced at the sharpness of the pain but forced my body to stand. I paused a moment, my full weight against the post, almost blacking out from the pain and fatigue these simple motions caused. I watched the young man across the room for a while, hoping he wouldn't turn to see me before I was ready. He was talking to someone, laughing lightly, his back fully turned towards me. I waited silently, not really sure what I was waiting for, but in the next instant I heard it.
"Okay, Unit Two out," he said, reaching up towards his vest and turning the radio off.
Without a second thought, I launched myself across the room, straight towards to figure before me. The scream I that came from me as I attacked both motivated and frightened me. I hit his back with the full force of my body, knocking him onto his stomach. He struggled beneath me, his right elbow shooting up and landing straight into lower lip. Stunned, I shifted my weight to the left, leaving him enough room to roll over and grab my right arm at the wrist, trying to prevent the knife from falling into his chest. I reached over with my free hand but his shot up and grabbed my left wrist as well. I used all the weight I had to keep him from rolling me over while still trying to push the knife down to him. It scares me now to think of how much I wanted to hurt him. How badly I wanted him dead. He was just a child really, but a dangerous one and I knew that it was either he or I. We both fought with all we had, each trying to gain control of the metal blade in my hand, both grunting and growling like wild animals fighting over a kill. I could taste the blood welling up in my mouth from the blow he delivered, but the once sickening salty taste now only fueled my raging fire.
He let go of my left wrist and grabbed my throat. The air began to escape from me, but I still fought. I smashed my now free hand into his face, clasping my fingers across his mouth, pressing the back of his head as hard as I could against the cold concrete beneath us. His groans were muffled beneath my hand. His face was red and his eyes were watering. I realized that he was suffocating but my own breathlessness from his chokehold prevented me from caring. His grasp on my throat loosened enough to allow me a few shallow breaths. The precious oxygen flooded my body, returning to normal my blurring vision. I pushed down on the hand holding the knife with a newfound strength, forcing his left arm down a couple of inches. His eyes closed and he screamed beneath my tight grip as I jabbed my knee into his stomach. My hand and the knife dropped a few more inches towards his body. He removed his clenched hand from my throat as his legs thrashed on the floor behind me. Straddling his body as I was made his legs useless, and his struggle with them was a waste of energy. He grabbed the forearm above the hand that was blocking his scream and forced it up along with the hand holding the knife. He gasped for air as he struggled to lift me off of him. As he pushed against my right arm, fighting off the knife, he allowed his other arm, still grasping my forearm, to fall back. This allowed me to shift my weight to the left more and opened the playing field between the two arms fighting for control of the blade.
I pushed as hard as I could against his upward thrust. As my arm began to give and the knife blade began to come slowly towards me, I lifted myself up slightly and felled my knee as hard as I could into his stomach one more time. As he gasped from the force of the lunge, his muscular reflex was to weaken his left arm against my weight. As he relaxed his arm, my own, still under the full strength of my push, fell hard and straight at his throat. As the blade sliced through his flesh, sectioning his jugular and trachea, every muscle in his body tensed for a single instant. Then, as the blood began to stream from his gashed throat and gasping mouth, his body relaxed and he choked out one last breath.
As his grip on my arms was released, I unclenched my hand from the knife and sat up, staring down into his face. His eyes were open, staring blankly towards the ceiling. I remained on top of him for a long time, staring down at the blood on the floor and my hand. I turned my right hand over and over; staring in disbelief at the lines of blood that trickled down it. I was suddenly aware of the warm tears flowing down my cheeks. I could not recall when I had started crying, but part of me knew it had been long before the knife fell upon the man's throat that now lay beneath me.
"Why did you do this?" I asked softly, fighting back the madness that was building within me. "Why couldn't you have just left us alone? Damn you! You were too young to die! Why did you make me do this?" I was stifling screams, my fists clenched and my jaw locked. I broke down into sobs, lowering my face into my bloody hands, trying to stop my body as it quaked beneath me, every muscle trembling. I brought my face up from my hands, as I tasted the acid building in my mouth. I crawled off of the body and managed to pull away a few feet before my stomach relieved it's tension onto the hard floor. I choked tears and saliva hitting the floor with equal violence. I curled up against the wall, too weak and disillusioned to move.
Moments later I heard the faint static of the radio the young man had used to keep in contact with the others. The communication device had been knocked from his ear and was lying next to his shoulder; the cord still attached to the pack strapped around his waist. I could not hear what the voice on the other end was saying but I knew that once they realized he was not going to answer them, they would come down to find out what was going on. I realized that I had to get out of there immediately. I ran to the table holding the floor plans. I shuffled through them, quickly locating the tunnel maps. The maps weren't as easy to read as I had hoped, but I soon saw that the entrance to the tunnels for the building I was in was on the other side of the boiler room. I memorized as much as I could, too afraid to take the map, thinking that if they saw it was missing, they would know exactly where to come looking for me. I grabbed one of the handheld radios off the other table and switched it on. I switched it on; scanning the channels for voices, but in the end heard nothing. I turned off the unit to save the batteries and decided to wait until I was some distance into the tunnels before trying to contact anyone.
I was making my way across the room, towards the tunnel entrance when I remembered what I had heard the young man say about guarding the tunnels. Carter's men were already in there. Probably not too far in from the perimeter of the building. I realized then that I would need a weapon. This game was going to be a lot more complicated than just hide-and-seek. I remembered the man saying he didn't want to have to shoot me. He'd had a gun. I looked back at the body. His holster was empty; I could not recall him even trying to reach for it during the struggle. He'd left it somewhere as carelessly as he had left the knife. I searched the room with my eyes, trying to make out the dark shape of a handgun. I saw it on the table he had been standing at during his last communication with Carter. I rushed over and grabbed it, turned off the safety, and tried to trick myself into thinking I knew more about weapons that what I had seen in the movies.
As I turned away from the table, I noticed again the young man's radio lying next to him on the floor. I knelt down, removed the pack from his waist, and attached the radio to myself. I thought that if I could monitor their communications, I could stay a few steps ahead of them. I also took form the body the small flashlight he had in one of the side pockets of his pants. As I pulled it out, a small piece of paper slid out with it and fell to the floor. I picked it up and turned it over. In the dim light I could see the lovely face of a young woman, about the age of the boy lying next to me. On the back was written: For Johnny, you don't know how much you mean to me. Love, Sarah. I closed my eyes, slowly released the breath I had been holding as I read the inscription. "So, you were in love," I said softly, looking down into the cold stare of the boy I now knew was Johnny. "I told you it wasn't worth it." The radio came to life in my ear, causing me to jump. The unknown voice was calling for Unit Two to answer, but Unit Two would never answer to anyone again. I knew that after another unresponsive call they would be heading down to the boiler room any second. I gently reached up and closed Johnny's eyes before I stood and quickly made my way to the other side of the room.
I paused in front of the entrance to the tunnels. The light in the tunnel was sparse. Only a few fluorescent lights were sporadically hung down the length of tunnel I could see before me. I eased my way down the few steps from the boiler room into the tunnel itself. I pressed my back against the smooth stone wall. The hardness of it hurt, but the cool dampness of the wall eased the heat of the pain. I gripped the gun in my hand tightly. In front of me was a sharp right turn. In my mind, I knew one of Carter's men was lurking around that corner. I jumped a little as the hot pipes above me suddenly hissed, the cool condensation dripping on them. I pressed myself against the wall tighter as I raised my weapon, aiming at whatever might be ahead of me. I collected myself and stepped around corner. Standing there, with his back to me, was one of Carter's men. He was leaning against the left side of the tunnel watching directly ahead of him. He hadn't heard me approach, he was completely entranced in the task of preventing the police entrance to the building.
"She's gone! All units, one of the hostages is gone! She's killed Johnny!" the radio came to life in my ear. I jumped and so did the man in front of me. "Check the tunnels, make sure she didn't make it out," the bodiless voice commanded.
At that, the guard turned and faced directly into the barrel of my gun. The shock on his face, I'm sure, matched the terror in my own. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him reach for his own sidearm and with the reflexes of a seasoned officer, I squeezed the trigger. All I saw was the flash from the gun and then the instant redness on his chest. I had fired directly into his heart. He fell to his knees, clutching his chest, astonishment and pain intermingling in his expression. I kept the gun aimed on him, not moving until he fell over onto ground. I instinctually grabbed his weapon and tucked it into the waistband of my jeans and started to move away from him, further into the tunnel. I didn't even stop to think about the coldness I had felt when I had shot him. I had made an unconscious decision to kill any and all of Carter's men that got in my way. I had to get out of that place. I wasn't the only person in danger. I promised Vanessa that I would get her out, that she wouldn't have to die in that room that day.
"Was that gunfire?" a voice on the radio asked.
Another chimed in, "What was that?"
"All units check in. Now!" Carter's voice demanded through the airways.
I knew it wouldn't be long before they found out which unit was down. I picked up my pace, almost running, wanting to move ahead as quickly as possible, but still aware that there may be others ahead of me. I tried to bring up a mental image of the tunnel map, praying I wouldn't make a wrong turn and end up back in the Science Hall. I kept moving in the direction I thought was West, towards the campus chapel, the closest building to the Science Hall. I turned on the handheld radio, careful not to turn up the volume too far. I switched through the stations, stopping at each one announcing my name and where I was. I stopped walking, leaned up against the wall, and watching both ends of the tunnel for Carter's men, flipped through channel after channel, pausing only moments for a response. After a while I began to worry that maybe the radio didn't work or that Carter had rigged it to only work on certain channels for security purposes. Then, just as I was about to give up on one channel, a voice stopped me.
"Hello?" a woman's voice called from the device in my hand. "Hello? Is someone on here?"
"Hello! Yes. Please, I need the police. I'm one of the hostages at the college. I need to talk to the police!" I said into the microphone, wanting to scream the words in desperation.
"Okay. Just calm down honey. I'm on a walkie-talkie about a mile from campus, in the park. You have to give me time to find someone. Keep talking to me."
"I can't keep talking. I'm hiding, you need to hurry. I've killed a couple of their men, they're going to find me soon."
"You what? You killed…I mean, okay, I'll hurry. I'm in my car now, just leaving the park. I'll tell you when I reach the campus."
I had been half-listening to the chaos on Carter's radios. They were done searching the building and close to realizing one of the tunnel guards was down. If they saw that one of the radios were missing, they would know to try to monitor them as well. I had to keep as quiet as possible should they discover what channel I was on. I moved down the tunnel further, probing through the dim light, too afraid to use my flashlight, hoping not to alert anyone ahead of my presence.
"Okay, sweetie. I'm at the campus. The roads are blocked. I'm going to give the radio to one of the policemen up ahead. Good luck, honey."
"Thank you," I said without pushing the 'talk' button. I was thanking the Fates now, more than I was thanking her.
After a few more yards I saw a small alcove in the wall. There was a drain in the floor within it and a light trickle of water falling from an open pipe in the ceiling. It smelled almost like sewage, but it was the only place to hide in a straight tunnel and I needed a relatively safe place to rest. I pressed myself into the small space, the stinking water dripping onto my shoulder. Seconds later, the radio in my ear came to life.
"Alpha Team, move back. We can't find the woman. Secure the building perimeter, make sure she isn't in the tunnels." there was an acknowledgement from the team leader who asked each of his units to check in. It only took him a few seconds to find that one unit would not respond.
The call went out that I had made it to the tunnels. The tunnel team was working their way back towards the science building. That meant some of them were making their way towards me. I had no idea how many. I assumed only a couple, but one could prove to be enough. A few seconds later, the handheld broke it's silence and the voice of the man, who could have been until that time a figment of Carter's imagination, came through loud and clear.
"Hello? This is special agent Frank Donovan. Is anyone there?" I stared at the radio for a while. Unable to comprehend that so far, my plan was working. "Hello?"
"Yes," I stuttered, the tears sneaking down my face, "I'm here."
"Who is this?" the voice calmly inquired.
"My name is Katherine Connor. I'm a biology instructor here at the school."
"Okay, Miss Connor, we have your name. Where are you?"
"In the tunnels. I think I'm between the Science Hall and the Chapel. You have to help me. They know I'm down here now. I've killed two of their men. Carter ordered the men in the tunnels back to the building. They're going to find me soon."
"How do you know he ordered them back?"
"I took one of their radios. I've been monitoring them."
"That was a very good move, Kate," Donovan said. His was the first human voice I had heard in hours that did not terrify me. "Okay, Kate, I assume you have a weapon, right?"
"Yes, handgun," I answered, unable to give him more information on the firearm.
"Good. Now listen, should anyone find you down there, do not hesitate to take whatever action you feel is necessary. I want you to do whatever it takes to stay alive."
"I already have," I answered, letting the hand with the radio fall to my side. I closed my eyes and rested my head against the wall. Every muscle in my body was pleading with me, trying to force me down. But I could not rest now. I was too close and Carter's men were coming back down the tunnel.
I could hear their heavy footsteps on the hard, wet floor as they neared me. I tightened my grip on my weapon and prepared for a confrontation. But in their haste to make it back to the building, they moved right past me, their eyes looking at nothing but the uncertain darkness ahead. I stuck my head out enough to watch them until they almost disappeared in the dim light. I quickly made my way from my hiding place and down the tunnel in the direction from which the men had come. I had just turned the corner when I heard one of Carter's men come over the radio.
"Come on, Tim. We just came through, there's no one back there."
"I know I heard something. Thought I saw something, too"
"What's going on, gentlemen?" Carter's voice broke in.
"I thought I heard someone in the tunnel behind us, sir," said the second voice.
"Probably just a rat," interjected the first.
"Well, check it out. Then get back here," Carter commanded.
Both men acknowledge the order.
"Okay, Tim, at least wait for me to catch up," came the first voice.
"Whatever. Hey, ain't we supposed to not use our real names?" the second voice teased. Only this time I didn't just hear his words in the earpiece. I heard it echo from around the corner. I threw myself against the wall, closely eyeing the edge of the corner for a shadow or the barrel of a gun.
"See anything Tim?" said the first voice over the radio.
"Nah. Guess I'm just being paranoid."
"Okay, then let's get back. These tunnels give me the creeps."
I heard the man around the corner begin to step away. As I began to relax, grateful for their departure, a voice came over the handheld louder than I would have liked.
"Miss Connor? Are you still there? Kate?" Donovan asked, searching the silence.
Before I could react, the man they had called Tim threw himself around the corner. His gun was up before mine and without a second thought, he fired. I dodged, but it was not enough. The bullet hit my left shoulder, knocking me to the ground. The radio fell next to me. I could still hear Donovan's voice calling for me to respond.
"Mr. Carter, sir, I have her," Tim shouted as I rolled onto my side. I had dropped my gun and was clutching my shoulder.
"Good," Carter replied, "Kill her." I heard the words exactly when Tim did over the radio. I saw him nod and position his weapon above me out of the corner of my eye.
"You got her Tim?" asked a voice close to us.
"Yeah," Tim answered, turning his head to watch his partner approach.
As he turned, I reached down and grabbed the gun tucked into my waistband. I pulled it out and pointed it at the man above me. As he began to look back at me, I pulled the trigger repeatedly, sending three bullets flailing into his chest and stomach. The force of each hit caused him to fall back, his body convulsing with each explosion. He hit the wall behind him and slid down as his legs gave way to his weight.
"Tim!" I heard the other man scream.
Too worried about his friend he came around the corner and fell to Tim's side. In shock, he turned towards me, his hands trembling as he tried to steady the rifle in their grasp. Before his hand was on the trigger, I unloaded three more bullets into him. He fell face down across his partner's legs.
I fell back against the wet ground, letting the gun slip from my grasp. I had done everything I could physically do at that point. I could hear Donovan's voice still pleading for a response. I rolled over, almost onto my stomach, and pushed the button on the radio. All I could say was, "The tunnel from the Chapel is clear." At that point, every muscle in my body went limp, and everything went dark.
I do not know how long I lay there waiting to die. But I eventually heard the sound of footsteps coming from what I thought was the direction of the Chapel. I could not bring myself to look up as they reached me. I could only see their shadows as they surveyed the scene. One of them knelt beside me. I jumped when the person reached out and touched my arm. As surprised as I was by the contact, the warmth of the hand on my skin comforted me. I was slowly rolled over onto my back. I opened my eyes to see a group of men standing above me. I looked at the hand on my arm. Following it up to the man by my side. He was of a large build, dark features. I couldn't get a clear picture of him in the dim light and my eyes wouldn't focus on anything clearly. Although the face eluded me, I recognized the voice immediately.
"Miss Connor? I'm Frank Donovan. You're safe now. A couple of my men are going to take you out of here. You need medical attention." I saw him raise his arm, apparently gesturing to his men. I threw my hand up, grabbing his extended arm. He looked down at me.
"Vanessa. I promised her I wouldn't leave her. I can't let her die here," I strained to say through heavy gasps.
"Don't worry about your friend. We'll get everyone out we can, I promise."
His voice was fading and my head began to feel heavy. The last thing I felt was strain in my neck as my head fell back.