Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 140940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 705(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 705(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
No. They got out. I know they did.
Yet, death loomed over the club.
What if they didn’t make it out?
We hurried forward.
Please, let them have escaped. Let them be safe.
The stage itself—where I’d just been throwing dollars—was now a grotesque display.
Oh my God.
Bodies lay draped over the edges, slumped against the walls.
Contorted and lifeless.
Strewn haphazardly across the floor.
Their final moments, marked by poses of desperate escape or sudden demise. Some lay draped over the edges of tables, limbs askew. Others were slumped against the walls, their faces frozen in expressions of shock and agony. G-strings reduced to charred black lines on burning skin.
Flames licked at the stage’s surface. My nose drowned in the scent of burning flesh and hair. The crackle of fire mingled with the faint, distant echoes of emergency sirens.
Smoke billowed upwards in thick, choking columns, so dense and dark that parts of the ceiling were completely obscured.
I don’t see Max. . .
A solitary foot, charred and dismembered, lay on the path in front of us.
Kaz stepped over it and guided me along.
My eyes watered and I didn’t know if it was due to smoke or sadness.
He got out. I have to believe he got out.
Suddenly, the unmistakable sound of more intruders pierced the smoky haze, and they were definitely coming from the front. Through the dim light and the thick, choking smoke that filled the air, figures emerged like phantoms.
Fuck. Fuck.
Right on instinct, we both shifted our walking to this odd, slow duck-walking as we did our best to stay low and hidden.
Kaz whispered, “You see them too?”
“Yes. At least ten.” I spotted most wearing black masks and squinted to get a clearer view. They reminded me of the sort of face paint from the Day of the Dead—elaborate skulls and colorful floral designs.
Kaz and I ducked even lower, moving within the shadows and aiming our guns in their direction.
More entered.
Jesus Christ.
It wouldn’t make any damn sense to shoot at them now. There was at least twenty to thirty men now.
Fear clawed at my chest.
Kaz tensed beside me, his body coiling like a spring, ready to leap into action. His grip on my hand tightened even further.
He positioned us behind a partially overturned table, its surface scarred and burnt. “Hold on.”
The men spoke to each other in Spanish, yelling out commands here and there. A good bit of them nodded and rushed toward the hallway where we had just left.
Kaz was right. Glad he got us out of there.
More Spanish commands were shouted out, and then the group divided again. Some went behind the bar and shot. A man screamed in pain.
Yep. They’re searching for survivors to kill them.
With his free hand, Kaz signaled for us to move. “Continue to stay low.”
We zigzagged through the debris-laden floor.
Smoke swirled around us, tendrils reaching out to grasp our legs.
Thank God everyone’s visibility—theirs and ours—was reduced to mere shadows and silhouettes. Either way, trying to get out of there was still a gamble.
The masked men prowled around and shot at bodies.
My heart pumped out a morbid rhythm in my ears.
The path to the bathrooms seemed like an eternity away.
We ducked behind another overturned table.
The sound of our own breaths became indistinguishable from the soft whispers of flames consuming the club.
Far off by the entrance, another man rattled off Spanish.
The men hurried to the back, and then a sudden explosion rocked our world sideways. I was thrown against Kaz, who managed to keep me and his footing despite the blast.
I recovered and got back in my ducking position. Pain shot down my arm—nothing serious, but enough to jolt me back into laser-focus.
However, due to that new bomb, the heat shifted to suffocating, the smoke blinding, and this choking fog thickened, fueling my terror.
Kaz whispered, “We are close.”
“Good.”
Kaz’s grip on my hand tightened even more as he veered us towards the bathrooms.
Six exploded bodies blocked the female’s bathroom as if a line of women had been waiting outside of the door, and when the explosion came, the impact cut them into bits and sprayed them into a heap in front of the door.
Bile rose in my throat.
I stayed with Kaz as we passed.
Up ahead, the men’s room door hung off its hinges, half-obliterated by violence.
Dread washed over me.
What if our only escape route was blocked?
Kaz stopped us. “This will make some noise and signal them, so once we are in, move fast.”
“Got it.”
Kaz moved us forward, faster than when we were in the main room, and once we got close, he didn’t even slow down as he kicked at the remnants of the door with brute force.
I pointed the gun in the other direction just in case masked motherfuckers came our way.
The door gave out easily enough, and we stumbled into a bathroom that looked like it had been pulled straight from a war-torn city.