Calhoun knew Jaywick still didn't like him, but the guy got caught up in planning their next move and didn't seem to mind too much working with Calhoun to take down the rest of the bad guys.
"Once the cops outside see those hostages escaping, they're gonna come rushing in here to clear the building," Jaywick said. "So if we're gonna get the piece of shit that's behind this, we don't have very long."
The same thought had occurred to Calhoun. He nodded and said, "If Barlow's telling the truth about being able to blow up the whole place, or even just part of it, he's more likely to push the damn button if he sees a bunch of SWAT types running in here. Two guys might have a better chance of taking him down."
"Two guys like us, right?" Jaywick sneered. "Doesn't make us bosom buddies."
"No, it doesn't. Come on."
Calhoun figured that he and Jaywick would go down the stairwell, but as he turned in that direction, his gaze happened to land on the small elevator tucked into a corner. The library was an old building that had been remodeled dozens of times over the years, so he figured the elevator had been added at some point to make it ADA-compliant.
The exciting thing about it, though, was that the downward-pointing arrow on the panel above the doors was lit. That meant the elevator was descending from an upper floor.
The implications of that burst through Calhoun's brain like an explosion. He snapped, "Come on!" at Jaywick and broke into a run toward the elevator.
If the campus cop wondered what was going on, he didn't hang back to ask questions. He just charged after Calhoun, who lunged forward to stab a finger against the elevator button.
Just in time, too. Another second and the elevator would have been past ground level. But Callhoun had been able to catch it, and with a little ding, the light above the doors came on. They started to slide open.
A man inside was already desperately pushing a button to close them again. The doors came to a jerky halt when they were only half open. That gap was wide enough for Calhoun to look into the small, enclosed space and see two men standing there, a tall, rangy Negro and a shorter, stockier white man with a brush of red hair and a close-cropped beard. Both men were armed.
Reactions on both sides were almost instantaneous. They had to be, for the doors had begun to slid shut again. Calhoun and Jaywick crouched and poured lead into the cubicle. The men in the elevator returned the fire. The roar of shots was too loud for Calhoun to hear anything other than that, but he felt the disturbance in the air as slugs whipped past his ears. More than once, a hot breath blew against his cheek.
Then he stuck a foot out at the final second to stop the doors from closing and prevent the elevator from continuing to descend. The echoes of the gun-thunder died away into a hollow silence. Calhoun kept his pistol leveled at the opening. He hand kept count of his rounds and knew he had two shots left.
"Push the button again, Jaywick, so the door will open," he told the campus cop.
"I'd---like to," Jaywick said in a strained voice, "but I don't think...."
Calhoun threw a quick look at his ally. Jaywick had gone down to one knee. He had a forearm propped on that knee as he leaned forward. The gun was in that hand. The other hand was on the floor to help brace him. Bloodstains spread on his shirtfront in two different places.
"Dammit!" Calhoun grated. "How bad...."
Jaywick was breathing hard. He pointed his gun at the elevator doors and said, "You just----open 'em up. I'll be----ready."
Calhoun kept his foot in place and stretched to the side to push the button again. The doors began to open. As they did, he stepped back hurriedly and brought his pistol to hear, too.
There was no need for that. The two guys in the elevator were both dead, shot to pieces.
"They have to be Barlow's men from the 2nd floor," Calhoun said. "They were the only ones left upstairs. When I saw that the elevator was on its way down. I knew it must be them. He was trying to get 'em to rally with him on the lower level. He's going to make his last stand down there."
"Give me---a hand. Barlow must've heard---all the shooting. If I take the elevator---on down----he'll be waiting to see---if it's his guys or somebody else---who gets out."
"You'll run right into a swarm of bullets if you do that," Calhoun protested.
"Won't matter. Blood's already leaking---into my lungs and guts. I won't make it. But I can distract him.....and anybody he's got left on his side---while you hit 'em---from the other direction."
"Dammit, you just wanna make some show-off play and be the hero!"
"Why---the fuck---not?"
" 'Cause you're a fuckin' asshole!" Calhoun burst out.
"Yeah? Well, so are you, Weaver!"
They stared at one another for 1 second, then both men laughed.
"You gonna----help me or not?" Calhoun demanded.
"Yeah, yeah, hang on." Calhoun took Jaywick's arm and helped him onto the elevator. He had to use his foot to push aside one of the bloody corpses as he did so. Jaywick propped himself up against the car's rear wall.
Then he nodded to Calhoun and said, "When you hear the shooting---you'll know."
"Yeah. Good luck, Jaywick."
"Don't need it anymore....as long as I can keep breathing----long enough to get down there. Push the button for me----willya?"
Calhoun thumped the lower-level button on the control panel and stepped back as the doors closed. His final sight of Jaywick was of the campus cop grunting as he hunched forward a little with blood soaking the front of his uniform shirt.339Please respect copyright.PENANAeLHK69kI99
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Barlow left one of his men, some guy called Dave, watching the hostages and told the other one, Tony, to come with him as he headed for the elevator to meet Joe and LeJohn.
Before they got there, a storm of gunfire broke somewhere up on the 1st floor, wiht at least 2 dozen shots being fired in 10 seconds. Barlow stopped short and tensed, then stared at the elevator. Above the doors, the down arrow was still lit. It'd been on its way to the lower level but must've stopped for some reason on the 1st floor.
Whoever was to blame for everything else going wrong had stopped the elevator, too. Barlow was sure of it. And that couldn't be anyone else except---Calhoun Weaver!
Why hadn't he had Weaver killed when he had the chance? Was that one mistake going to ruin everything?
Barlow heard the faint rumble as the elevator began to descend again.
He made a curt gesture to indicate that he and Dave should split up. Barlow went left, Dave to the right, as they approached the elevator. Barlow held his gun ready in front of him in a 2-handed grip as he said quietly, "Be ready when that elevator opens. It might be two of our guys in there---or maybe not."
"I'm ready, Lark," Dave said, but he sounded tense and worried. As the long day had gone on and more and more things went wrong, the worry and uncertainty had spread through Barlow's group. Barlow had to give them credit, though, as far as he knew, none of them had deserted him.
A faint thunk sounded as the elevator came to a stoop at the bottom of the shaft. The doors slid back...
Although Barlow was ready, he still jumped back slightly as a bloody, grinning apparition lurched toward them. The thing held a gun that spat fire at them as he stumbled forward. Barlow barely had time to recognize the blood-sodden clothing as the uniform of a campus security officer before he was returning the fire, along with Dave. Their bullets pounded into the campus cop and threw him back across the elevator car to hang against the rear wall.
There was no way the guy could still be alive, but Barlow would have sworn that his grin widened even more, just for 1 second, and his eyes burned even brighter with hate and something else...
Triumph?
Another shot blasted somewhere behind them, and Dave pitched forward with half of his head gone. Barlow whirled around and saw Calhoun Weaver at the bottom of the escalators. He threw himself aside as Weaver fired again. The shot went wide because of Barlow's quick reaction.
"Stop him!" Barlow yelled at Tony, who was staring openmouthed at Weaver. "Shoot that bastard! Shoot him!"
Barlow had drilled the men enough that they were obedient, almost like a military unit. Tony clapped his mouth shut and brought up his gun, and Calhoun Weaver shot him in the chest, knocking him back toward the hostages with arms and legs flailing. His body landed on some girl with purple hair who started screaming and panicking, and a second later chaos had that area firmly in its clutches as the panic spread.
Barlow didn't care. His options had suddenly narrowed down to one--but he wasn't out of options. He dashed toward the stacks, deliberately taking a path that would carry him in front of the hostages so Weaver couldn't shoot at him without a miss striking the innocents. Just as Barlow expected, Barlow held his fire and came after him on foot.
Once he reached the stacks with their narrow, claustrophobic aisles, Barlow would either get the drop on Barlow and kill the meddling bastard once and for all---or he would push the button on the detonator and set off those charges of C4.
Either way, Calhoun Weaver was going to die in the next few minutes.
The only question was how many others were going to die with him.
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