I take position on the other side of the door frame. I know I'm severely under armed when it comes to the situation I'm in. Even if I'm holding a literal handcannon, all it takes is for a semi-accurate spray from an automatic to cut my unarmored ass down. Counting down from ten in my head.
There's no noise coming from the inside. Is it an ambush? I peer in. The lights are still on. The skylight's smashed out. I… don't see anyone. A cautious step inside. My boots crunch the remnants of the skylight. Another cautious step. Crunch. My heart could leap out of my ribcage with how hard it's beating. If they were in here, they'd have shot me by now. I take off into a dead sprint to the other side of the garage, shouldering the side door open.
Nothing.
No cars. Nobody.
Fuck.
I turn back inside, rushing up the stairs. Like I'm going to find someone. Down towards the quarters. Each and every single door looks like it's been kicked in. Including mine. Cursory glance doesn't show that anyone really put up a fight or struggle. Nothing's ajar, no bullet holes, no blood. They must've all been caught by surprise. I don't think any one of them would've gone down without a fight if they knew what was going on. Fuck. I step inside my room, noticing it's the only one that got turned upside down. They must've not been in here for long, because everything looks like it was simply tipped over or emptied out onto the floor. Like they were looking for some obvious clue to my whereabouts.
Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
Godsdammit. I wish they left an obvious clue to their whereabouts. Back down to the garage I go. My head's pounding too hard to even remotely think of what I should do right now. Until I notice a piece of paper under the Beast's windshield wiper.
“CHAMBERS, IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO SEE YOUR FRIENDS AGAIN, I WOULD SUGGEST THAT YOU TURN YOURSELF IN.”
I take a pause at this. This isn't handwritten. He took the effort to print this out.
“SIGNED, McNAMARA.”
Prick. My head is a slurry of emotions, and I can't fixate on any one of them. Until my brain decides that the best option is to ram my fist into the nearby support column.