Death After Death (#2)

Chapter Forty

Max rushed to his daughter's side, but as he threw his arms around her, his smile soon morphed into a look of horror. The unmistakable feel of warm blood draped over his fingers like a silk burgundy sheet. Lizzie's eyelids fluttered feebly, as her body began to lose its fight to stay conscious.  

Blood was pouring from a deep wound on Lizzie's left wrist, the culprit, a red stained knife lying on the cold, stone ground.

Max couldn't tell if they blade had severed an artery, or whether her wounds were life threatening, but he did know that they couldn't stay here. If they stayed, she would die either way.

Lizzie's eyes opened for the briefest of seconds, as she gazed up at Max, almost certain that it must be a dream; her last dream.

"I'm sorry, Max," she whispered, imagining him maybe finding her dead body in this cell one day.

"Shh Lizzie, save your strength," Max spoke softly in return, as he scooped her up and backed out of the cell door.

Lizzie had just enough time to weakly beckon for Sky to come with them, "Skyyy..." before the darkness overcame her.

As Max turned back towards the stairs, Han was desperately fumbling through the keys, which Max had left in the cell door.

"What are you doing? We need to go!" Max urged.

"Hey," Han snapped. "You have your people to save, I have mine!"

Han unlocked the cell door opposite Lizzie's and charged in, emerging seconds later with a battered, shell of a man. His hair had been torn out in places, and his skin burnt and peeled from his face. His bare feet were a dry, deep red, and his toenails and fingernails had been ripped from his body. Cuts and bruises littered his torso like a patchwork quilt, and the pain from all of these scars still lingered in his dark eyes.

"Can you stand?" Han asked urgently.

"I'm used to the pain," Saunders grunted, his eyes showing an immediate glimmer of life as soon as they settled on Lizzie's limp body. "Lizzie!"

"You know her?" Max questioned.

"Know her?" Han scoffed. "The mad bastard as good as broke her out of here."

"We need to get her to my lab, immediately," Saunders interjected before Max could enquire any further.

"Doc, we really don't have time on our sides here," Han exhaled.

"If we leave now, she's not going to make it! Hell, half of you look as if you're on your last legs!"

"The last thing they'll expect is for us to go back up," Dawson added.

"We're doing it," Max decided.

And with that, they were on the move once more, hammering back up the stairs down which they had escaped moments earlier. Max carried Lizzie in his arms, wincing with every step, Han propped up Saunders, and the twins heaved Paulo along. It was like a team of medics, leading the wounded off the battlefield; only the battle was yet to come.

***

Saunders stumbled around his lab like a man possessed, tearing open packets of bandages with his teeth, while unscrewing an unholy amount of bottles of tablets.

He ordered Max and Paulo to shovel down the mystery pills, without a second's explanation; Max just hoped and prayed that they were pain killers and nothing more.

Saunders expertly cleaned Lizzie's wound, before dressing it in pristine cotton bandage, hiding the gruesome cut below. He then proceeded to prep some kind of tubing, cleaning a mark on Lizzie's wrist as he did so.