Hurricane: Day 19, Part One
I groaned and sat up... Rubbing my head, I glanced around the room and mentally took roll call. Big frozen ball with 3 very angry dudes, Check. Unconscious Chloë, Jackson, and Evan? Check. Sword hilt deep in the ground? Check. I stood up slowly. Everything hurt, pretty much everywhere. I walked towards my sword, grabbed it's handle, and tugged. It didn't budge. Groaning, I pulled with both hands, using all the strength I could muster. It slowly came out. Muttering to myself, I sheathed it on my back, grabbed the unconscious Jackson by the legs, and dragged him across the floor to the elevators, which were more or less OK for use. I went back, and dragged Chloë and Evan to the elevators as well. I went back again and started to grab Jackson's guns, when I loud CRACK stopped me in my tracks. I glanced at the ice sphere, which now had a huge crack across the surface. It was starting to melt. I snatched up Jackson's Guns, his backpack, his numerous knives, Chloë's knives, 4 vests that some of the other guys we fought must have dropped, and scurried back to the elevator. I grabbed a fire extinguisher on my way, and sprayed it all over Evan, who had started a small fire in the elevator. There was another loud CRACK, which I responded to by repeatedly punching the 1st floor number. Some easy listening Jazz music played. I grabbed the several knives, and Jackson's guns, and stuffed them into Jackson's backpack. I glanced at the weird vests I had grabbed. The fabric looked like it moved for a second, but when I blinked it stopped. I figured it was my imagination. With a pleasant ding the elevator doors opened up. The place was completely empty now. It was 10:00 at night now, so I figured the place was closed. Still, I found it hard to believe that nobody had heard what had been going on only a few dozen floors up. I grabbed a baggage cart from the lobby, hauled my friends and all of their stuff onto it, and wheeled them out. The Camaro was still sitting, right where we left it, unharmed. I unlocked the doors, hauled Evan and Jackson into their seats, and buckled their seat-belts. I put Chloë into the shotgun seat, and buckled her up. I walked around to the trunk, and tossed in the backpack and vests. Just as I was putting my sword up, I felt all of the hairs on the back of my neck raise. My instincts screamed, DUCK! I dove to the side, and narrowly avoided the fist that smashed into the ground with such force that the asphalt cracked. I rolled aside as the attacker's foot stomped down where my face had been. It was the same guy that I had brought the roof down on. He grabbed me by the shirt, and said, "You didn't think you were finished yet, did you?"
