Chelsea closed the door behind them as gently as she could. A fresh shock of gunfire rang from above as the latch closed.
Head leaning forward, arms out as if to catch a fall, Victoria moved in slow motion down the hallway, her head swiveling back and forth.
“Stay close to the wall,” Chelsea told her. She put her hand on her aunt’s shoulder, gently holding her back so she could take the lead.
“Careful,” said a male voice, so loud that she thought it was coming from behind her. She glanced back.
There was no one else in the hall. Chelsea lowered herself into a half crouch and began walking again, her right shoulder hugging the wall. The rooms along the hallway were laid out similarly to the ones in the restaurant — the stairwell at the end, a men’s room, a ladies’ room. Rather than opening into a larger room, however, this hall led to another passage. Chelsea went down on her knee, peering forward to scan the hall. It was only a few yards in either direction; each end gave way to another hall.
She listened, hoping to hear the voice again. There was strength in numbers.
“Which way do you think?” asked Victoria.
“Right, I think,” said Chelsea. “Toward the front of the hotel. Did you hear that voice?”
“No.”
“There must be other guests.”
“I hope they’re on our side.”
Chelsea peered around the corner, not sure what to expect. The hall ran for about six feet before giving way to a lounge area that rose above the main lobby. Seeing it, Chelsea knew where she was; the reservation desk was below and to her right. There was a small coffee kiosk around the corner from it. Most of the rest of the lobby area was a maze of low couches and chairs. A bank of elevators lined the hall on the left.
“This is kind of a balcony,” Chelsea told her aunt, leaning back. “It’s about eight feet wide, and it’s over the lobby. The front doors are just over there, and there are a couple of side entrances around that way.” She pointed to the section beyond the reservation desk. “It’s too high to jump down, but there are stairs at the far end. It’s like thirty yards.”
“OK.”
“The lobby is empty,” said Chelsea. She leaned back around the corner, making sure she was right. “Let’s go that way while we have a chance.”
“Out the front?”
“I think it’s our best bet.”
“Sneak or run?”
“Run… OK?”
Chelsea looked at her aunt’s face. Her eyes had narrowed, and while her lips were pressed together, she looked determined.
Chelsea started to get up.
“Wait,” said Victoria, grabbing her.
“What?”
“Do you have your phone?”
“Yes.”
“We should call and tell someone what’s going on.”
“God.” Chelsea dug into her pocket for her phone. She hadn’t thought of that.
But the phone couldn’t get a signal. Reception here was always iffy.
“Try yours,” she told her aunt.
“I left it in my pocketbook.”
“Forget it,” said Chelsea. “Let’s get out of here. On three.”
“On two.” Victoria raised her thumb.
Chelsea turned back toward the lobby, leaning forward to make sure the way was clear.
“One, two,” she whispered, and then she was off, flying across the long expanse. The deep carpet muffled her footsteps. The hotel remained eerily silent, without even mechanical noises, let alone people or guns or explosions.
As Chelsea reached the far side of the balcony, she spotted an alcove to the right. A red exit sign lit the corner. She decided that would be a safer route, since they wouldn’t be exposed.
“This way, come on,” she said, changing direction. She ran into the alcove and stopped at the door.
Just then the lights flickered and the place blackened. Emergency lights tripped on a moment later, casting the hall in a yellowish, almost sepia-toned hue.
“I just need to catch my breath,” said Victoria. “What’s this? I thought we were going out the front.”
“This might go directly outside,” said Chelsea. “Better not to be seen.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
But rather than leading to a separate entrance, the staircase came out on the side of the lobby, not far from the reservation desk. Chelsea took a step toward the desk, then quickly retreated as shadows moved across the floor.
She held her breath, waiting. There was no sound, and the shadows were gone.
“Ready?” she whispered to her aunt.
“Yes!”
“We go right to the door,” said Chelsea. “When we get outside, run left. I passed a Starbucks there, across the intersection. We’ll get help there.”
“And lattes,” said her aunt.
“Lattes, yes,” said Chelsea. “On three.”
Though they’d rested for only a moment, her legs muscles had tightened, and Chelsea felt her calves straining as she leaped forward, glancing both ways to make sure the lobby was empty. Heart pounding, she shot toward the row of doors.
A chain linked the bars of the set closest to her. Chelsea ran to the next set — another chain.
They were all chained.
Victoria either didn’t see it or didn’t quite realize what it meant. She continued past Chelsea and landed both hands on the crash bar. The door budged about an inch and a half before stopping abruptly. Victoria smacked hard against the glass.
Chelsea grabbed her aunt, holding her up.
“That hall,” she said. “Come on.”
The hallway off the lobby ran parallel to the front of the building. The right side rested against the building’s outer wall; the other was lined with offices. Chelsea wondered if people were hiding in some, but decided not to stop or check — they needed an exit, not allies.
There was an external door and a stairwell at the far end of the hall. This door, too, was chained, but the stairway was open. It led to the parking garage, which had several exits and entrances.
“The steps,” said Chelsea.
“More steps,” said Victoria, her voice resigned but almost comically so, as if they were running a steeplechase or some exercise course, not fleeing for their lives.
The steel doors to the garage were open. Exhaust mingled with fresh air, a good sign, thought Chelsea. She reached the bottom and ran into the garage proper. The ramp to the street was about forty yards away, the gate up, the entrance unblocked. The emergency lights were on, but there was also plenty of light coming from the street and skylights that were incorporated into the garden courtyard in the middle of the hotel.
“Aunt Vic, come on,” said Chelsea, helping Victoria as she entered the garage. The older woman was really straining now, and limping — she’d twisted her knee coming down the stairs.
“We’re out, we’re out,” said Chelsea, stooping down to take Victoria’s arm and shoulder her out. It was a three-legged race, a lark in the park — an old memory or maybe a dream flitting into Chelsea’s thoughts as they half jogged, half hobbled to the entrance.
Thank God! thought Chelsea.
They were maybe ten feet from the ramp when something darted from the left side. It moved quickly, so fast that Chelsea wasn’t sure what it was at first. It seemed unworldly, a wraith.
Then she saw it was a man.
Then she saw he held a rifle.
Then she realized the rifle was pointing at her and her aunt.
5
Massina listened intently as Bozzone described the situation as he knew it: there had been at least one explosion in the T, a car or truck bomb had detonated on the departure level of Airport Road, a group of terrorists had taken over the Patriot Hotel, another group had taken over the Boston Children’s Museum, and a suicide bomber had struck at the Back Bay Police Station. There were reports as well of an attack on a small restaurant in the North End and a disturbance of some sort at a bank on Massachusetts Avenue.