Chapter 15
Sands and Carter stood in the doorway of the old warehouse.
"What's it like?" Sands whispered.
"It's barely able to stand. The walls are just about to fall, and the floorboards have huge cracks in them. It smells musty." Carter whispered back. Sands would have rolled his eyes, if he could.
"I know it smells musty, fuck-nugget, they took my eyes, not my nose." Sands replied, "Now, where do you think Barillo's office is?"
"Well," Carter said, looking around, "there's light at the end of the hallway."
"Good enough for me." Sands quipped.
They crept down the hallway, guns ready, not making a noise. That is, until Sands banged his shin into a crate.
"Carter you little fuck! You're supposed to tell me if there's anything close to where I'm planning on putting my foot!" Sands yelled.
Carter opened his mouth to retaliate, but quickly stopped himself at the sound of people approaching. Soon, three guys entered the hallway.
"Well, what have we here?" One of them spoke with a heavy Mexican accent.
"Are they armed?" Sands turned to Carter.
"I don't know. I don't think so." Thankfully, Carter still had an iota of balls and didn't break down crying at that moment exactly.
"Good." Sands drawled.
"Who are you guys?" The one with the Mexican accent asked.
"Sheldon Jeffrey Sands, CIA." Sands then shot into the hallway, not caring about anything but finding Maggie and getting her home.
He stopped firing once his guns rang empty. A few drops of blood ran down his cheek. He turned to Carter, who stood there stunned.
"They dead?" Sands asked to the immobile figure he presumed was still at his side. Maybe I shot him. Oh well.
"……Yeah. They're dead." Carter whispered, trying to regain control of his shaky voice.
"What the hell is going on?"
