Jeremy squinted in the darkness as his eyes started to adjust. He was curious what the owner of the voice looked like. To his vague disappointment, it was someone utterly boring. Twenty-something, plain dark jacket and jeans, clean shaven, short haircut, white. Paler than white, actually, with how nervous he looked. No identifying marks, and probably lower-middle-class. If he entered the guy into a search, Jeremy doubted he'd get a single useful result.

  Despite that, the young man still had a loaded gun pointed vaguely at Jeremy's chest. His finger hovered dangerously near the trigger.

  "I should take you to the guy now."

  Jeremy shook his head. Keep playing the supportive guy, keep them off their guard. "If you do that, no one's guardin' the back door. You gotta stay here, right?"

  "Oh. Right."

  "So just straight down the hall to the back room?"

  "How'd you know where it was?"

  Jeremy shrugged. "We downloaded a blueprint of the place when we got here. The internet's a hell of a thing."

  The guy's eyes widened. "So you could just break in from anywhere?"

  Come on, just let me go alone. "Maybe, but that's not gonna happen. I'm here to make sure no one gets hurt, remember?"

  "Right." The guy waved him off with the gun. Jeremy winced as the barrel swung upward past his face twice. "Go, then. I'll stay here and watch."

  "You got it."

  Jeremy turned, as uncomfortable as he was putting his back to the guy, and started down the dark hallway. There was an empty employee bathroom, door thrown wide with the lights on, and at the end of the hall were two doors on opposite sides. The left door was brightly lit, and Jeremy could make out the floor of the bar through the threshold. The right door, by process of elimination, had to be the store room where they expected the hostages to be.

  There was a pool of blood on the ground between the two, and splatter all over the wall.

  Fuck.

  Jeremy kept forward, one step at a time, his hands held up high. Call out now or try to get the drop on them? I'm unarmed, but if I can get one of them, can I flip the hostage situation? Nah, they don't seem to be a tight group. They'd probably just shoot us both. Gotta go in as myself.

  He took a deep breath, then bellowed down the hall. "Hey, whoever the fuck's in charge! Negotiator coming in!"

  A head immediately popped out of the store room, closely followed by a sawed-off shotgun. "How the hell—"

  "I'm just here to talk," Jeremy called back. He lifted his hands even higher with emphasis. "I'm totally unarmed. Your guy cleared me."

  "Go back," he growled. "We're almost done here, then we'll leave. You don't need to be involved."

  "Hate to break it to you, but they're getting ready to raid your asses. I'm the only dumb motherfucker standing between you and a sniper." Jeremy kept walking forward, since the shotgun apparently wasn't going off anytime soon. "Talking's the only way you're getting out of here in one piece."

  "Look, Agent Ashe. We're on the same damn side. So just shut up and let us finish, and everyone goes home happy." As soon as Jeremy was within a few steps of the doors, the man raised the shotgun threateningly. Jeremy froze in place. "No negotiation."

  On the same side? Sides of what? "This isn't the way to play this."

  "I know what I'm doing. We know what we're doing." Had to remember to say 'we'. This really isn't a unified group. The man jerked his head in the direction of the bar area. "Go in there and sit down. We're done talking."

  I'm losing him. "Talk to me, if we're on the same side. Maybe I can help you out."

  He shook his head. "Done talking."

  "But what if—"

  The man fired the shotgun directly into the ceiling, sending a shower of dust and debris through the room. Jeremy's ears were ringing, but he could still make out the screams from inside the store room. "Done talking!" the man shouted.

  Goddamnit. Jeremy reluctantly kept walking and entered the bar area. Terrified hostages and their uncertain guards awaited, all watching the doorway and wondering what the latest gunshot meant.

  "This is the last goddamn distraction!" the man shouted, turning back to the store room. Jeremy wished he could look inside and figure out what was going on, but there were too many guns ready to go. Every man he'd encountered so far had been willing to fire.

  I can't just give up now. These guys know something I don't. Why are they here?

  Jeremy glanced around the bar. None of the gunmen seemed to care where he sat, but they were getting antsy. No one was talking, so they'd probably been instructed not to. Jeremy couldn't hope to get information out of another hostage. Shit, I'm a hostage now too, aren't I? This went well. Lani, why weren't you here to talk me out of this shitty plan?

  "Hey, A— —she."

  Jeremy's ears perked up. It sounded like someone was whispering right next to him. He could feel the vague tickle of air on the curves of his ear, and their voice lacked any tone or substance. But no one was anywhere near him.

  "C— you he— m—"

  Jeremy slowly rotated his head, looking around the room. No one else had noticed. His radio had stopped working a few minutes ago, presumably blocked by whatever jammer the men were employing. The hostages were mostly looking down at their respective tables, too terrified to move, and none of the gunmen seemed more alert than usual.

  Am I finally cracking?

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  "—on, this has gotta work."

  It came through more clearly. A vaguely feminine voice, though it was hard to tell from only a whisper. Jeremy quickly glanced over only the female hostages, and he caught it. A college girl, with short brown hair and thin-rimmed glasses, sitting at the far corner booth with a gunman a few feet away.

  Her lips had just moved.

  Jeremy started making his way over to her, but she very slowly shook her head slightly in place. The man watching her didn't seem to notice.

  "If you can hear me, take a booth where you can see me. Nowhere nearby, and make sure they won't notice your mouth moving."

  Fuck it. Who knows what's going on anymore? Jeremy sat down at the nearest bench where he could clearly see the girl, but her dedicated man wouldn't have an angle on him.

  "God, finally. Sorry about that. It took me a second to figure out how to make it flow around the room."

  Jeremy raised his eyebrows as high as he could, but the girl seemed only to be casually glancing around the room. She wasn't actually looking at him.

  "If you're talking, hang on a sec. I need to make it two-directional." Well why the fuck didn't you say so before?

  Wait. Make what two directional?

  "Okay, try saying something. As quiet as you can."

  Jeremy had no clue what she was expecting to happen. They were halfway across the bar from each other, and it wasn't exactly silent in there. A couple of the gunmen were talking, and they could still hear the shouts of the leader in the store room. Not to mention the sirens and general chatter of the anxious cops surrounding the structure.

  "Something," Jeremy whispered, so low he could barely hear it himself.

  Immediately, he could hear her frustrated whisper in his ears again. "Not perfect yet. Gotta try something else. Can you say a bit more? Longer sentences."

  Jeremy sighed. "What the fuck is going on in this stupid-ass town? I fuckin' hate Tacoma."

  The girl laughed, although it sounded more like a loud exhale without any tone to her voice. "Everybody hates Tacoma, man."

  Jeremy nearly fell out of his chair in shock.

  "Stay cool, Agent Ashe," she said quickly. "Don't wanna give it away to our friends with the guns."

  "How the fuck can you hear me?"

  She winced. "A little quieter, please. That sounded like a stage whisper."

  "You're across the goddamn room!"

  "Yeah, but I'm carrying your voice. Also mine, and getting all those sound waves to bounce around the room is hard enough without trying to change their volume. I've never done this before." She shrugged. Jeremy wished he could see her face more clearly. Who the fuck is this girl?

  "What the hell are you talking about?"

  "Look, I'd love to play twenty questions with you, but we really don't have time." She tilted her head slightly at the doorway. "You saw the blood, right?"

  "...Yeah."

  "They killed one of us already. They're gonna find my friend in there sooner or later, and they're gonna shoot him too."

  Who the hell is 'us'? Why are they shooting them? Who are you? "Why?"

  She slowly shook her head one side to the other. "Not the time for that."

  Fuck you. "Fuck you."

  Her face fell. "You seemed like a smart guy on TV. I'm really underwhelmed. I need your help, okay? I can't get back into that room. They won't fall for my dumb pretty girl act again. I can beat them if I can get the drop on 'em."

  Boris Morozov popped into Jeremy's head. Their encounter in the woods, where Lani had been shot, warning of impossibly strong individuals lurking amongst them. Is this girl what he was talking about?

  She's not wrong. They're probably going to kill more people given the chance, if they already started. I've gotta do something about that. But fuck if I'm gonna let her leave without getting something out of her.

  Build up empathy. "I met Boris and Dan in Canada," he started.

  "Yeah, no kidding. I watch the news. You started a manhunt for them." Her face moved slightly, but Jeremy couldn't tell what she was doing from so far away. The gunman standing by her table glanced at her, but — seeing nothing out of the ordinary — looked away again. "You made our lives a hell of a lot more difficult."

  "Who's we?"

  "I'm not answering that."

  Work with me, goddammit. I don't think we're supposed to be enemies. A young woman walked through the doorway from the store room. She made a beeline for a guy Jeremy assumed was her boyfriend with a tearful reunion. They sat huddled together at their table, while the gunmen shifted around uneasily.

  "These guys don't want to be doing this. This isn't at random, and most of these people don't matter. They're hunting you and your friends. Am I wrong?"

  "...No."

  "And I'm here to stop them. So we're on the same fuckin' side."

  "In this building, sure. What about tomorrow?"

  "I can't see the future, can you?"

  "Not yet." The girl glanced up at her personal guard, who was checking his watch. "They keep checking the time. They've got a schedule. It takes them a couple minutes to check every person before they send them through."

  "And they don't even know each other, do they?"

  "Huh?"

  "I haven't heard a single one of them use their name. The motherfucker at the door didn't know the plan and was stupid enough to let me in. This is not a coordinated fuckin' group."

  "They're coordinated enough." She glanced at the doorway with a worried expression, and if Jeremy could make it out from this far away, it must be bad. "I don't think they're gonna shoot anyone else though. Just us."

  "You wanna bet all our lives on that?"

  "I have to bet my life every day I step outside."

  Holy shit that was bitter. "Girl, you don't have to tell me that twice. But we're not the only two fucks in this mess."

  "Look, Mr. Ashe," she started, her voice getting a bit more harsh — and a bit louder. Jeremy felt weird that she was still trying to be polite despite everything. If ever there was a time to drop fuckin' formalities… "I'm on a clock here. As soon as they get to my friend, they're going to shoot him. I can't stall them anymore, so it's up to you. If you've got a brilliant idea to take them out, now's the time. If not, can I please beg you to just keep them busy long enough?"

  "...Long enough for what?"

  "For my backup."

  Well that's ominous as shit. Jeremy decided to go for a hail mary, hoping beyond hope it might convince her to trust him. "Jackie?"

  "...No? Wait, how do you know Jackie?"

  "Long-ass story. She used to be my partner. Boris told me she's still kickin'." He paused. "I'm trying to find her. I don't care about anything else."

  The girl hesitated. "We don't know where she is."

  Fucking hell. "Can you get her a message?"

  "...I can try."

  "I'll do anything you want, if you can tell her to call me."

  She nodded slowly. Another person walked through the doorway from the storeroom, reminding them both of the ticking clock. Jeremy tensed up, wondering what he'd just promised. "Do you think you can get one of their guns?"

  Jeremy shook his head. "I'm not killing anyone. Not unless they shoot first."

  "They already killed Harold!"

  "And if I open fire, this shit becomes a bloodbath. It's still nine against one."

  "Two."

  "One. You're a civilian."

  "I'm less of a civilian than you are. I can take 'em."

  Fuck me, I'm beginning to like this girl. "I need them alive so I can figure out what the fuck's going on."

  "...You said you'd do absolutely anything."

  "If you tell me to, but this is a bad idea."

  "So give me something better!"

  "You said you've got backup coming, right? Where from?" The girl hesitated. Jeremy didn't bother to wait for her to answer and filled in the gaps. "Rallsburg, right?"

  "...Yeah."

  God-fucking-dammit, I need to talk to her. Not these ass-clowns. "Called them right away?"

  "Yes."

  "How long til they get here?"

  "Soon."

  "Girl, if you don't give me anything to work with—"

  "I don't know how fast they can move. It's fast, though."

  Fast like they've got a fast car? Or something else? "Can we assume it's within the next ten minutes?"

  "Maybe? I don't think my friend has that long."

  "So we're back to stalling." Jeremy scratched his chin. "What if—"

  "Crap. We're out of time." Another person stumbled in from the store room as she spoke.

  "What?"

  "There's only one person left."

  "You can hear him too?"

  "Plan B time. Put your money where your mouth is, Mr. Ashe."

  "What do I do?"

  "Distract the guy next to me long enough for me to make my move. After that, get to the other room and don't let them kill anyone."

  "How the hell is this gonna—"

  "Now!"