Red Cure (on hold)

Part 23

The light I had found would make a great escape if they blocked all of the exits when we tried to check out. I darted through the hallways, checking every west side door. I avoided every voice that sounded anywhere near me and I had begun to hate the sound of French by the time I found Peter. I opened a door and there he was, sitting in a chair and facing the window. His eyes were closed as he enjoyed the warmth of the sunlight on his face while he waited for me to rescue him.

“Listen buster, I think you’re getting too relaxed with this, me rescuing you thing.” I said after closing the door and putting my hands on my hips. He turned around abruptly with a huge grin on his face.

“Sharp!” He exclaimed happily. He got up from his chair and practically sprinted towards me. He grabbed me in a fierce hug and pressed his lips to mine.

“We really don’t have time for this.” I muttered half-heartedly against his lips.

“I don’t care.” He said back.

We both paused in our reunion when we once again heard the sound of a French voice quietly singing a song. I ran to the corner of the room behind the door and Peter resumed his position on the chair.

One French doctor appeared through the door and I readied myself to pounce as he approached Peter.

“Monsieur Shay, we have need one more vile of blood.” He said reaching the chair with the needle raised in the air with an evil smile on his face.

I didn’t let him have a chance to do anything to Peter and tackled him, wrapping my arm around his neck as Peter grabbed the syringe from his hand when he tried to stab me in the face with it. He took longer than usual to pass out but when he did he was really out. We propped him up in the chair to make him look like he was sleeping and then Peter took my hand and pulled me down the hallway.

“Where are we going?” I whispered.

“We have to get an airplane if we want to get back to the states and the plane is this way.” He said taking us through a long room that might have once served as a dining hall.

We were almost to the plane when we literally ran into a big group of French military. We ran the other way. The hallways that had made sense before now became a labyrinth for us to get lost in. It got to the point where we didn’t know what direction we were going in or if we were going in circles.

We were running on empty when we passed the door to the basement. I pulled Peter to a stop and ran down the dark staircase. I miraculously didn’t fall but I heard Peter stumble behind me a few times and felt him get his balance back using our joined hands. I used my flashlight to navigate in between the boxes and equipment towards where I had seen a light. We were almost there when the lights in the ceiling blinked on.

Peter and I stopped to look back towards the staircase. We caught sight of the group of guards just as they spotted us.

“Marde.” I said and turned to run. I pulled the heavy crate away from the wall and crawled into the tunnel it revealed. The light I had seen was coming from lights running alone the ceiling. That didn’t bode well for the escape plan. I hoped whatever was on the other end was better than what was behind us. I crouched while Peter pulled the crate back in front of the tunnel, hoping as I was that they wouldn’t know where we had gone.

Peter reached up with his elbow and broke the first three lights as we made our way down the tunnel. We could crouch in the small space, but if you wanted to move you had to crawl. Let me just say this, if we had been in races as toddlers, we would have won. You usually don’t associate crawling with speed but when the adrenaline is pumping and you know something is after you, you move.