E = mc²

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Part 11
Page 1
 
 

    Shujuan hit a wall. Hard.
    She was panting. Shaking. Her arms were trembling so much she could barely feel them. Hands still so numb they didn't even register the gun in their grip. Hot and smoking, two shells spent.
    Two down. Three left. Two left, and one for when your shit was all gone to hell.
    They said that after the first shot, it would be easy.
    Fuck.
    She didn't even know where the first one had gone. She'd seen a man, Triad, coming at her, right around a corner. Felt her stomach twist at the bottom of her gut and her lungs hang frozen and her arms moved of their own power, and with the hammer back the trigger squeeze was nothing. But the kick. The recoil. The shake, violent jerk, felt like something was going to rip her hand clear off.
    The explosion had filled her head and thrown everything else out. For a second she couldn't even see, didn't know what she was looking at, couldn't understand the heat of the metal, the acrid smell, the smoke so biting she squeezed her eyes tight shut.
    Someone had laughed at her. Someone had said something to her in Cantonese, barely coherent. 'Take your toy and go home, boy.'
    She'd seen faces. Grinning faces and flashing black magnums and something had turned over inside her and she'd ducked and rolled as the first boom sounded, and then came another, explosion after shattering explosion and the walls behind her splintered and sound turned into a waterfall roar.
    The second bullet had gone through someone's leg, and his scream was still banging around inside her head.
    Now she was somewhere else, god knew where, a hallway or a room, and she could hear them even now, their murmured voices as they searched for her or her body, whatever they found first. And she was leaning on a wall, shaking so hard her vision blurred and her breaths coming out like dry sobs.
    People said after the first shot it would be easy. Like they knew what the fuck they were talking about.
    Shujuan could hear their voices closer now. On the other side of the wall, just over the doors. If she got the jump on them, got the gun up before they did...
    Her thumb moved to pull back the hammer and stopped halfway, still trembling. She didn't want to cock it. Didn't want the urge to fire again. Didn't want to have to do that.
    She closed her eyes until the nausea passed. Her heart still pounded. Drum didn't even cover it.
    When she opened them again, her gaze settled on the opposite wall. A stack of crates, leading to the rafters, gutted crawlspace between the floors. Leading right over the wall partitions. If she got up those...
    Shujuan nodded to herself. Swallowed a little to keep her breath normal.
    Right. Right, okay. She could do this.
    No pockets in the leather. She bit down along the gun barrel like a buccaneer knife, hitching up the trail of her coat as she started to climb. Find a hold and haul up, arms burning, shaking, warm metal getting wet in her mouth.
    Up. Pull up. Come on.
    She saw him from the catwalk. The nearest man. All alone, away from the others, bearded and grinning like he'd been handed some dinnertime entertainment. He shouted things to the others that she couldn't focus enough to catch, as he looked around, checked corners, checked everywhere but up.
    If she timed it right, if she hit right, if she landed and focused and steeled herself against the pain, if she could just make it. If she jumped. If she could jump. If she could quell her stomach and move to the edge of the beam and hold and lean and stop thinking about that gunpowder taste in her mouth. If she could just do this.
    Now. Now. Go.
    Go.
 

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