Fish slammed the door shut behind him and started the engine. He stepped on the brake and put the car in gear. He looked around and stepped on the gas; gingerly at first, then like he meant it.

He pulled the car out into the street. A sudden dinging inside the car frightened him. He looked around, then realized it was the alert to put his seatbelt on. Fish composed himself, belted himself in, and started concentrating on the road.

He made a quick turn, drove down the street, turned again, and headed toward the front of the building he’d just escaped. Fish slowed down and looked at the parking lot as he drove by. He saw Radford’s car and another car he didn’t recognize. He also saw some movement inside the building’s first floor but couldn’t see what was being done.

Fish faced forward and stepped on the gas. The sooner he got to the authorities, the sooner he could get Abdul the help he needed.

Abdul hadn’t moved from his spot. In addition to being ready to shoot anyone who came through the door, he was also trying think back to how many bullets he’d already fired. The problem was everything had happened so fast, he couldn’t remember exactly. His best approximation was he’d fired about five times, which meant he had about five bullets left… unless he had four… or maybe six.

He was still sitting there trying to figure it out when he smelled the unmistakable smell of smoke. Abdul sighed at the thought of his predicament getting even worse. “Bugger.”