The Final Storm

28. Ambush!

Petrified, I stared at the dark holes of several muzzles pointing straight at me. I would never reach my revolver in time. It was too late to move.

At least for me.

Mr Rikkard Ambrose, however, had already started moving at the first mention of the word "ambush". Appearing in front of me in a flash, he lifted up the prisoner in his grasp—just in time.

Bam! Boom, boom!

In the confines of the tunnel, the gunshots were deafening. But they weren't loud enough to drown out the sickening sound of torn flesh as the bullets slammed into the man who had been bragging about the impending ambush only a few seconds ago.

"Agh!"

He would not be bragging again.

The man twitched for a moment or two, then went limp in my husband's grip. His death didn't stop Mr Ambrose for even a second, though. Dashing forward, he rammed into the closest opponent using the (probably) dead body as a battering ram. Snatching the gun out of the startled man's grip, he whirled around and fired off two shots in quick succession. One of the masked men went down, the other clutched his wounded side and leapt behind a pillar.

The only problem was...that still left two. Four if you counted the wounded one and the unarmed one. And one of those was heading straight towards me.

Crap.

I didn't have time to care about the others now. All I could do was to raise both arms and shield my face against the fist coming my way. A moment later, the punch landed and sent me stumbling back several steps.

Bloody hell!

Well, good news: my opponent was the unarmed one. Bad news? He punched like a son of a witch!

"Ugh!"

Colliding with the dirty wall behind me, I whirled to the side, just in time to avoid the second punch coming for my head. It hid the hard wall instead, drawing a curse from my opponent.

Ha! Take that!

Never mind that I had to rely on a wall for a counterattack or similar insignificant details.

To gain time, I grabbed the first thing in range and hurled it at the man. That thing happened to be a very surprised and rather displeased rat. When it hit the man's face, it decided the thing looked tasty and immediately took a bite out of his nose.

"Aaagh!"

Howling in agony, the man stumbled back, giving me enough time to do the thing I had been itching to do since the moment these bastards had jumped us: draw my gun.

Bam!

Screaming, my opponent went down. Unfortunately, not from a gunshot wound caused by my excellent marksmanship, but because the rat, in order to escape the man's flailing hands, had fled down into his shirt and from there into his trousers. Apparently, it had found something to nibble on down there that was even tastier than a nose.

"Eeeep! Grng!"

The rat trouser dance performed by the masked gentleman was such a fascinating sight I nearly forgot to attack. Something I came to regret a moment later.

"Raaah!"

A violent kick sent the rat flying out of the man's trouser leg and straight at my face. Frantically, I threw myself to the side. I was not touching that thing, especially considering where it had just been. Rolling on the ground to soften my fall, I came up again just in time to see a boot coming towards my face.