I reached down and closed my father’s eyes with my fingertips.

I took my rifle off the metal table.

I stepped out of the glass enclosure and joined Mara in the rotunda.

The corridor was filled with thick grey smoke, lit by the flashing red lights of the alarm system.

“He’s gone,” I said.

“I’m sorry,” Mara said, not looking back as she watched the smoke. “But we have company.”

Two figures in black tactical gear emerged from the smoke, their rifle mounted lights cutting through the haze.

I raised my rifle, took aim, and squeezed the trigger.

The lead soldier fell, his weapon clattering against the concrete.

The second soldier ducked behind a pillar, returning fire.

The bullets chipped the concrete above our heads, showering us with dust.

“The service stairs are behind us,” Mara said, pointing to a heavy metal door marked with an exit sign.

“Go,” I said. “I’ll cover you.”

I fired three more rounds at the pillar, keeping the soldier pinned down.

Mara retreated toward the door, her limp more pronounced now.