Part 36
We moved like shadows through the maze of sheeted furniture, keeping our bodies low to avoid being seen.
Behind us, the beam of a powerful flashlight cut through the darkness, illuminating the dust motes in the air.
"Search the rows!" Julian ordered, his voice echoing sharply. "They couldn't have gone far. Watch the exits."
There were more of them; we could hear the heavy thud of combat boots spreading out across the concrete floor.
Derek led the way, his knowledge of his father's old layouts proving invaluable as we navigated the dark.
We reached the heavy metal door of the boiler room, the iron cold against my sweating palms.
Derek took a deep breath and pushed the door open, moving into a narrower, darker corridor filled with rusted pipes.
The air here was warmer, smelling of old oil and stagnant water, a claustrophobic tunnel beneath the warehouse.
Suddenly, a bright light flashed from the end of the corridor, blinding us instantly.
"Stop right there!" a voice shouted, the sound of a gun racking echoing off the brick walls.
Before I could even react, Derek lunged forward into the light, tackling the guard with a desperate, furious energy.
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The two bodies slammed into the concrete wall, the flashlight dropping to the floor and spinning wildly.
The guard fought back, his heavy fists striking Derek's ribs, but Derek refused to let go, fueled by pure survival.
