All I know in regards backstory is that Danny and I are friends, and we uncovered some dark secret earlier somehow related to an organization.
“Come on.” I hissed.
The hotel room was dark, but I could see Danny’s form move as a shadow away from the dresser towards me. Satisfied, I paced with silent footsteps to the door and peered through the smudged peephole into the hall. I felt Danny draw near behind me, waiting for the verdict.
“Clear.” I said, and yanked open the door. It creaked on its hinges and scraped on the uneven carpet.
Urgency surged through my body. I plunged into dimly lit hall. The door to our hotel room – number 203 – was one of seven doors lining the wall at intervals. Across from the wall, a railing; a straight drop two stories down to the ground floor. The open staircase led downwards – ten steps, landing, turn; ten steps, landing, turn; all the way down – beginning at the end of the hall, across from 201’s door. The air smelled of water and mold. Paint peeled on the concrete walls, and the electric wiring for each light showed in twisted strands of yellow, blue, and red, like a broken spider web against the ceiling. The lights themselves flickered at uneven intervals.
He could show up anywhere. This fear burdened my steps, and I hesitated, fearing I would run right into him if I went to quickly.
Danny touched my back. “Go.”
His touch prompted me more than his words. I nodded, lengthening my strides towards the stairs, noticing more the weight of the gun in the drop holster strapped to my leg. Danny always kept his wits in tense situations, and helped me keep mine when they began to fray. Which they always did.
We had to get out of the building. But that wasn’t it, we had to find somewhere else to hide, and couldn’t stop until we did. The last time we stopped for too long –
“Why the rush?” The voice echoed from behind us.
My heartbeat faltered. I whirled, to find Danny already facing the man.
He stood six feet away from us, as grotesque as I remembered him. His build sagged like a deflating river raft, bulging, heavy set. The dimples of his smile pushed into his cheeks like poles holding up a tent, and his grey eyes, peering out beneath drooping lids, gleamed with a sort of mad intelligence that contradicted the sobriety of the rest of his appearance. In his hands he gripped an SMG.
He’d found us.
My mind raced, flying far faster than I thought possible. I glanced at Danny’s back. He didn’t move, but I could tell his thoughts spun as quickly as mine, working to find a solution. His muscles were tight. His hand hovered near his gun. We’d tried to outdraw him before, though, and had paid dearly. And this time he had a more powerful gun already aimed at us.
It was me he was after, not Danny.
I darted down the stairs. His glittering gaze lit afresh at my movement, and Danny hissed my name.
Our enemy’s smile vanished. “Stop or I’ll kill him.”
I halted on the first landing, ready to dodge at a moment’s notice. “Don’t waste the ammo.” I replied. He wouldn’t bother with Danny if he thought I would get away.
He swung his gun in my direction. I dropped flat a split second before gunfire erupted through the air. Bullets impacted the wall, shards of concrete showered over me, and I thought for sure one of the projectiles would ricochet into my body. Echoes hammered the air as I scrambled away, but the course of the strafe veered suddenly upwards. I stole a glance, pausing.
Danny jumped the man, slamming him back against the wall.
“Danny, no!” I screamed.
The gun went off. The back of Danny’s jacket tore, releasing clouds of red as the bullets passed through him.
With a thud muted by the lingering noise, Danny collapsed. The SMG was aimed at me again, and the man’s grey eyes fairly blazed as he squeezed and held down the trigger. I tripped over myself down the stairs, just barely managing to tumble out of range. He was insane for shooting in here with the concrete walls; he could be killed by a ricocheting bullet just as easily as I. Jumping to my feet and ignoring the throbbing in my shoulder, I ran down the last few sets of stairs. The man pursued me, taking position on the second landing and firing each time I came in range.
At last I hit the ground floor. I lost my footing and toppled onto my side with a cry, but on a sudden instinct, I lay motionless. Bullet casings clattered on the ground near me. My heart thundered against my ribs, but I forced myself take in shallow breaths.
The echoes died. The stairwell fell silent. With my eyes closed, I couldn’t see if he was peering down at me from a few flights up, seeing if I was dead, but I could feel his gaze on me.
At last, footsteps.
Wait for it.
Sheer will power kept me from jumping up and running right then. No, I had to wait until he was on the flight just above me, the one flight where he wouldn’t be able to see me sneak away.
Wait for it…
Step, step, step…. I could hear him changing the magazine on his gun, then finally… Directly overhead.
I pushed myself up, and ran on the balls of my feet to the side door not ten feet away. My ears rang, so I couldn’t tell if I moved in true silence or not. The door hung partway open on a loose hinge, and I slipped, managing to barely brush it, lest the creaking should alert my pursuer of my departure before I had time to get a good head start.
The muggy evening air engulfed me. I ran. Ran as fast as my feet would take me, and didn’t look back.
I haven't written the next part of the dream, which involves me trying to decide between revenge and forgiveness. Maybe I'll write it down later...