There’s a light casting from somewhere ahead that makes it easy to see
which turns to take in the corridors of the basement. Just follow
the light. We get to the room where the light is coming from &
it’s a room about thirty feet by forty feet. There’s a freight elevator
that could probably hold two cars across from the hallway & there are
two guys standing guard. They’re wearing police uniforms & flak
jackets. One is about six inches taller & more muscular, so I
take my rifle & shoot him in the head & shoot the shorter one three
times, once in the stomach & once at the joints of each shoulder.
The shoulder shots break his collarbone sending his arms behind him like
useless wings.
Steve’s yelling, “What the fuck are you doing!” as they’re falling to the
ground.
The guy with the wings lands with both arms behind him & is bleeding
fast & screaming like a bitch. There’s not enough time to calm
him down to talk before he’ll bleed to death, so I kick him in the head
to shut him up while I pull my knife out & shove it through his eye
to kill the brain.
“Jesus-fucking-Christ! What the fuck was that man?”
I just turn & stare at Steve while I take my coat off & replace
it with the winged guard’s flak jacket.
“Fuck! How are we supposed to know what we’re up against down there?”
He takes his pint out & takes a shot. “Jesus.”
“Here’s the key to the elevator,” I say pulling it out of the pocket of
the winged guard.
“So much for a delicate touch,” Steve says pulling out a submachine gun
we found when we took out the topside of Chicago. He grabs the vest
off the other guard & we get in the elevator.
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