Giovanni did not flinch.

He stood perfectly still in the red light, a silhouette against the white smoke.

The third impact shattered the lock.

The heavy steel door swung inward with a screech.

Two men in black tactical gear stepped into the doorway, their rifles raised.

Giovanni fired three shots in rapid succession.

The first man collapsed instantly, his rifle clattering to the floor.

The second man fired a wild burst into the room before Giovanni’s bullet found its mark.

The bullets sparked off the concrete walls, showering us with stone chips.

One of the stray bullets struck the medical monitor on the table, shattering the glass screen.

Dr. Sullivan let out a high-pitched scream.

“Go!” Giovanni shouted over his shoulder.

He stepped over the bodies in the doorway, disappearing into the smoky stairwell.

The sounds of gunfire erupted from the stairs, rapid and chaotic.

I scrambled toward the hidden hatch in the floor.

My hands were shaking so hard I could barely fit the silver key into the keyhole.

“Help me,” I gasped to Dr. Sullivan.

The doctor crawled over, his face streaked with tears and soot.