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Abby looked down to see a massive estate with rolling, perfectly manicured green fields and walkways lined with expensive-looking statues. A flower garden flanked the side of a huge mansion, blooming in all the colors of the rainbow. She’d always assumed her employer was wealthy, but she didn’t quite expect this. She’d figured out by now that Radley hadn’t been entirely truthful with her, not just about Beatty, but also his real identity. All signs pointed to him being the enigmatic man who’d wired her money for her kills all these years. She’d finally met him, only to be immediately burned by him. It didn’t bode well for their future working relationship.
The plane dropped altitude quickly, causing Abby to stretch her jaw to force her ears to pop. The world was suddenly jarringly loud, the plane’s engine deafening her even through the headset she wore.
A small runaway stretched out in front of them as they closed the distance with the ground. Derek expertly lined up the nose of the plane with a dotted line down the middle of the pavement. The plane rattled with force as they landed.
Abby surveyed the airfield but saw no sign of Beatty, or a woman whose voice might be Coleman’s.
“What now? Where is she?” Abby asked. Her direct address of Derek reminded her to raise the gun which had slowly fallen during the trip. He eyed it warily.
“She’s probably waiting in the hangar.” He pointed ahead to a large metal building. “Door’s open already.”
Abby nodded and waited as Derek maneuvered the plane into position, then slowly drove it along the tarmac towards the hangar. She didn’t expect trouble, but she preferred to be prepared for it, so she focused on seeing anyone in the fields, behind the statues, or otherwise hidden from view. Given that Radley wanted to keep Beatty’s health a secret, she couldn’t rule out the fact that she might not be wanted here. There certainly must have been a reason she’d never met her employer.
The sun overhead dimmed as the plane rolled into the hangar. Abby still didn’t see any sign of Coleman or Beatty.
“Where are they?” she demanded, tightening her grip on the gun.
Derek held up his hands, stammering, a bead of sweat on his forehead. “I don’t know. I swear. I don’t.”
Props still spinning, Abby threw open the door to the plane and climbed out. Her body protested, forcing a groan and a wobble, but she kept her balance. The rumble of the engine echoed into the small space. She looked up at Derek and drew her finger across her throat. He took the meaning and killed the engine.
Ears ringing, Abby looked once again around the hangar, hoping for some sign of Beatty. She saw nothing. The hangar consisted of nothing but a giant room with one open end. There was nowhere for anyone to hide.
“You know the grounds?” Abby asked Derek as he jumped down onto the concrete floor.
“Y-yeah,” he stammered.
“Where would they keep Beatty?”
“The infirmary, probably,” he said. “It’s in the mansion.”
“Well, then,” Abby said. “Lead the way.”
He didn’t seem keen on doing her bidding until she raised the gun again. Just the possibility of a threat seemed enough to get him moving, though. He walked towards the open hangar bay and out into the sun. The clouds had finally broken after days of dreary rain. The reflection of the tarmac flooded into her eyes so brightly that she could barely see.
Then she was running, back to the hangar. Her body reacted faster than her ears. Only when she’d dived back into the shade did she realize she’d heard a gunshot.
“What the hell, Derek?” she yelled.
The lack of response caused her to realize a lack of Derek. Looking out of the hangar doors, she found him, slumped against the tarmac either dead or close enough to it. He’d taken a bullet for her—though, she imagined, not entirely on purpose.
Gripping the pistol tightly, she peeked around the corner and squinted against the sunlight. She couldn’t see well, but two men stood next to ten-foot statues of satyrs. She took a deep breath and calculated her options. She’d never hunted humans before, but she was a crack shot. She could certainly take out at least one of them, if not both, before putting herself in mortal danger. But she didn’t want to kill. She just wanted Beatty.
She yelled from her corner, “I don’t want any trouble! I just want Beatty!”
The men didn’t give her the honor of a reply. Instead, she was answered by a bang behind her as the doors on either side of the hangar slammed open, revealing two more men dressed in black and ready for a gunfight. The term “surrounded” suddenly seemed like an understatement. She considered surrendering, but, given the situation, she had little hope of that ending well. So she acted.
Putting to use years of training, she glanced around the corner one last time, memorized the position of the men by the statues, and fired exactly two shots before juking to her left to protect herself from the retaliation of the ones in the hanger. Gunshots rang behind her, bullets hitting the pavement in front of her but none came from the front. It seemed she had hit her mark.
Knowing she didn’t have much time, Abby surged forward towards one of the statues, ducking behind it just before another round of gunshots rang through the air. Bits of the satyr chipped off, but she managed to dodge another volley. One of the guards she had shot lay on the ground next to her. Clearly dead. She swallowed hard. This was a matter of survival. A matter of saving the man she loved. She didn’t ask for this fight, but she damn sure wasn’t going to give up now.
She leaned out to survey her attackers—only to immediately duck back behind the statue at the sound of another gunshot. Clearly they weren’t going to give her any breathing room, so she reached around behind her and blind-fired two rounds before crawling forward a few feet, pushing up and sprinting to the next statue. They lined the entire walkway to the mansion, so she just needed to get to each one.
More gunshots rang out. None of them hit her. She expected more men to show up, but so far she only had to concern herself with the two giving chase. She blind-fired again, advanced again, one by one, statue after statue, somehow dodging fate with every move. Either those guys were bad shots, or she was faster than she gave herself credit for. She’d take either.
Before long, she found herself at her last bastion. There was nowhere else to hide between her and the mansion, and this run would be the longest by far. A few blind shots wouldn’t give her enough cover for this one. She sucked in a deep breath, knowing that if she didn’t move, they’d be on her too quickly. She fired behind her then took off in a sprint, weaving left and right as sporadically as she could. Gunshots rang. Grass and dirt flew up about her pant leg.
Up the stone stairs, she dropped down to a crawl, pushing left then right, then right again. Up the middle, she dove onto the porch and rolled behind a giant stone column flanking the front door. She’d lost count of the gunshots, but somehow she’d avoided them all to this point. Her lungs burned. The pain from all her wounds threatened to slow her progress, but she pushed on. She looked up at the door before her, wondering whether it would be locked. Out here, surrounded by nothing, she could only hope that locking doors was an unnecessary hassle.
First, she needed to shake the two guys bearing down on her, though. She used her location to her advantage, slowing her breath to listen. To get to her, they’d have to climb the stairs which would slow them down and mess up any chance of an aim. So she waited.
Nothing.
Clearly they hung back, waiting for her to make a move instead. But she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. Like baiting the curiosity of a cat, she stayed still and quiet, the minutes ticking by, confident they’d start to wonder if she’d given them the slip entirely. She left them no choice but to investigate.
And eventually, they did. She heard the scuffs of their boots along the concrete sidewalk.
Still she waited, until the distinctive sound of shoes on concrete turned to the thud of boots on stairs. She gripped the gun, moved fast, and spun out, tracking her aim quickly enough to kneecap one guy, which was all it took as his fall brought down the other. Both tumbled backward. Hesitant to kill two goons who were just trying to protect the property, she backed into the door, tried the handle, and smiled when it opened.
Abby ducked inside the mansion, slammed shut the solid, massive wooden doors, then flipped every lock she could see.
