Last time... Steve, Jan, and Isaiah are surrounded by Stu and his men, the lot of them confused, scared, and angry - and all of them packing heat. Heath the cook steps out to see what the ruckus is about and then Heath is just snatched by something and pulled back into the Dambuster. Is it Lola or something worse?
Stu fixed him with a stare and then Heath’s legs were pulled
into the dark recesses of the bar. “Flashlights!” Stu looked ready to lead the
pack when he stopped and turned towards Steve. “You’re the cop. You go first.”
Jan shook her head slowly and her eyes were actually filled
with concern. He looked from the armed mob to the still and quiet Dambuster.
Isaiah was smothered in his mother’s embrace but a single eye watched his
father intently.
“Let’s go.” He went up the steps and peeked into the
darkness. The room beyond was a mess of turned over tables, chairs, and the
rubble from the collapsed ceiling - light from outside filtered in from the
gaping hole giving enough light to see faintly in. Heath’s body was draped over
a table in the middle of the room, still.
“Lola,” he called out. Silence.
“Get in there,” Stu whispered. Refusing to look back he
pushed himself into the gloom. Shadows were deep in the corners and further
into the bar, especially in the kitchen. Stu lit a flashlight and started to
sweep it across the room. The two of them crept up to Heath’s body.
“The head’s missing,” Stu said with an almost clinic tone as
if such a thing was a regular occurrence.
“I need a gun,” he whispered.
“Lola,” Stu ignored him. Something fell in the kitchen.
“Kitchen.”
“At least give me the flashlight.” Stu seemed to weigh the
decision, but then relinquished the flashlight. Feeling only the slightest bit
of comfort from the plastic handle and yellow light, he started towards the back
of the bar. He took his time, stepping carefully around the rubble, sweeping
the light slowly and methodically. He didn't want to betray his fear by
throwing the light at every sound he heard. Carefully he used the light to
check behind the bar and down the hallway to the bathroom. That left the
hallway to the back with the kitchen off the side. He put his back on the
opposite wall and inched his way along it. The light traveled down the opposite
wall and then bent over the doorway of the kitchen; lighting a countertop and
some cabinets.
He took a deep breath, thought of Jan and Isaiah, and then
slipped across the wall so that he passed the doorway and with the flashlight
lit the whole kitchen. It was empty, although he couldn't see past an island
covered in pots. He looked to Stu and motioned he was going to go inside. Stu’s
grip tightened on his rifle.
He first went to one side of the door jam, keeping the wall
between him and the kitchen and played the light across the room. Seeing
nothing he went in, staying to the right while his light covered the left. With
his other hand he motioned for Stu to wait at the door and cover the left side
– he’d play the foxhound for Stu.
The light played against the myriad of surfaces; metal and
glass reflecting and twisting the light at odd angles and casting more shadows.
Finally he reached the end of the kitchen and had to make his way around the
island. He took a deep breath and started. He first saw a shoe and then a leg.
“Lola?” The leg moved and there was a slight whimper. He
moved more quickly. There was Lola huddled on the floor, a large kitchen knife
brandished ineffectually from her right hand. Her eyes were squeezed shut. Stu
came in to the room and took a hold of the knife.
“It’s ok, honey.” Lola dared to open an eye and gave a gasp
when she saw Stu.
There was a shot fired outside. There was no hesitation, He
tossed the light to Lola for the two of them to use and rushed out back out
through the bar. He tripped and slid across the debris, each step taking him closer
to the doorway. More shots were fired.
You thought it was Lola didn't you? Next time will learn what they're shooting at, plus Steve and Stu have a little heart to heart. Awwww.
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