I think with enough force, I might be able to…
I give it another strong pull, shuffling to my right and teasing it back a tiny bit at a time. I stop after a couple of minutes. The metal has left deep, red imprints in my palm. I flex it to get the blood flowing again.
I wish I could do this with both hands…
I’ve managed to make a decent-sized gap near the ground, but I don’t think it’s enough for me to fit through.
Kaitlyn walks over and stares at the fence. “I can’t believe you made me climb over the damn thing when we could’ve just done this… Unbelievable.”
I smile. “Let’s not dwell on the past, eh? Give me a hand with it, would you? I need you to push as I pull.”
“Whatever…” she mutters, not quite under her breath.
She crouches opposite me and grips the fence with both hands. I grab it again with my left.
“Okay, on three, you push, I’ll pull… Ready?”
She nods.
“Go.”
We manage to make a gap twice the size of the one I made on my own, which is perfect for me to fit through. She holds it up as much as she can, and I crouch as low as my legs will allow. I scuttle through the gap and get to my feet, standing beside her as I brush the dust off my shorts.
Kaitlyn looks at me. “I hate you.”
I smile. “I can live with that.”
We turn and look over at the site before us. This must be the planned extension to the airport they’ve been talking about. It seems to be split into three distinct parts. An assortment of construction vehicles are parked together over on the left, with some portable offices stacked two high next to them. Behind them, stretching almost the entire width of the site, is the half-built skeletal structure of what I imagine will one day be a seriously big building. Huge concrete blocks, laying both vertically and horizontally, form the meat, with wide metal girders and cabling acting as the bones. I read somewhere not so long ago that this was going to be a new terminal for the airport. It’s been in the pipeline for a couple of years. Some people were against the idea initially, but in the current climate, I think the fact it’s created so many jobs has made people embrace it.
We set off walking toward the new building. The crunch of our footsteps on the gravel echoes around the deserted site. The next work shift won’t start for a couple of hours, so we’re alone here for now.
Kaitlyn turns to me. “We can search these cabins for a first aid kit. It might be worth regrouping here for a short while, see if we can patch you up a little.”
I nod. “Yeah, that’s—”
I hear more crunching away to the left. Tires, this time. I look over, beyond the parked vehicles, away to the left of the site. I can see two Suburbans speeding through the entrance. They disappear out of sight, rounding a bend that will lead them to the far side of the new building.
“Shit.”
24
I point to the office cabins, which are less than fifty yards away. “Come on. Stay low and quiet.”
There are four of them in total, positioned in a tight U-shape. Two are sitting roughly side by side in front of us, with one jutting out at either end. They’re dark blue and covered in dust and dirt. A metal staircase has been fitted to the end of each one, running up to the second door above. We move along the front of the one on the right until we reach the door. I try the handle.
Locked.
“Damn it.”
I take a couple steps back and then kick out, pushing my right leg forward as hard and fast as I can. My foot connects with the door just below the handle. The thin wood splinters and cracks, and the door flies open. It bangs against something behind it. I gesture Kaitlyn inside. She doesn’t hesitate, and I follow her in and push the door closed again behind me.
Oh my God, it’s hot in here! It’s like I’ve just stepped inside the sun!
There’s a large desk on the left, with a few chairs standing around it. One of them has been knocked over — must’ve been the door. There’s a whiteboard on the wall facing the entrance, filled with writing and diagrams in a blue marker pen. To the right is a large metal shelving unit, like lockers without doors. There’s a small compartment running along the top and bottom, with safety helmets and work boots resting haphazardly in each one respectively. The middle section is long, and has safety apparel hanging there — reflective vests and coveralls, mostly.
I point to the corner of the room behind the table. “I want you to crouch there. Stay quiet and stay hidden. I’ll be back soon.”
She takes a step toward me, looking panicked. “Wh-where are you going?”
I gesture outside. “Worst case, there are eight guys just arriving, armed to the teeth and looking to kill us. I’m gonna go ask them real nice not to.”
“Adrian, you can’t. You’ll—”
I smile and shake my head. “No, I won’t. This is what I do. Back when it was twenty-on-one, yeah, that was stupid. But eight-on-one, I can handle. Trust me.”
She holds my gaze for a moment and then nods. She moves to the corner and crouches down behind the table. I walk back over to the lockers and search quickly through each section. I strike gold in the middle one. Behind the clothing that’s hanging down, on a small shelf, is a rusted, black metal toolbox. I open it up and immediately grab the claw hammer resting on top. It has a flat circular part on one side, for getting the nails in, and a curved, two-pronged hook on the other, for getting them back out again.
Perfect.
I look back at Kaitlyn and smile, trying my best to look reassuring. I don’t think it’s working though, because she looks terrified. I just nod to her and step outside before she starts trying to talk me out of this again.
I move along the front of the cabin and press my body against it as I reach the end. I stare ahead and see the smoke billowing into the sky in the mid-distance. A sea of flashing lights has surrounded the crash already.
Let’s hope no one comes looking for the survivors…
Holding the hammer low and close, I peer around the corner to my left. Straight ahead is a large, brick archway, which looks as if it might be the future entrance. Beyond that, the majority of the walls are no more than waist high, with taller pillars and girders sticking up periodically. There are at least two different levels of scaffolding, which forms a roof, of sorts, lined with walkways and ladders. There are plenty of opportunities for cover, but I’ll have to stay low and move quickly between them.
I strain to listen for any movement. I can’t hear the tires of the Suburbans anymore, so they’ve stopped somewhere. My guess is they’ll fan out and sweep through the site quickly. Orders will undoubtedly be to shoot on sight.
Eight highly trained operatives, employed by an organization of elite assassins, all armed with assault rifles. And me… holding a hammer, with my good hand in a cast and a head wound that’s bleeding so badly I can barely stand or see…
I’ll be fine.
Oh, which reminds me…
I crouch, rest the hammer on its head, and use my T-shirt to wipe more blood off my face and away from my eyes.
That’s helped a little.
I retrieve the hammer and make my way around the corner, jogging under the archway and into the main building site.
Dude, this is fucking nuts… You know that, right?
I do, which is why you’re going to help me, old friend. ‘Fucking nuts’ is your specialty.
As I duck to the left and press myself against one of the wide pillars, lyrics from an old song run through my head, which seem fitting, under the circumstances.