Chapter 6

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They were going to go in, guns blazing. That was their plan. They didn't have one, so they would count their shots and pray for the best. It had taken ages just to get to the top of the stairs, Paul stumbling, panting, and gripping Crystal with half of his weight now completely dead-weight. He was at least 200 pounds. Crystal? She was barely 150 pounds. It wasn't impossible, but it didn't do anything to settle Crystal's nerves. All the way up the steps, Paul just kept on repeating,

"You gotta count your shots ... and each one has to count."

Even as he was gasping for breath to get up the steps, he would keep saying it. Crystal knew then that he was just as scared as she was. Crystal often forgot that they weren't that different in age, and if things had been different, they might not have ever met and would have lived completely separate lives. But she couldn't think of that. They were close to the same age, they were on the same path, and all they had left to hope for was survival.

Once they had made it up to the door, Crystal wasn't sure if they were going to make it. The stairs had taken a toll on Paul, and he was having trouble holding the shotgun up and off the floor. She hadn't shot one in years, but she couldn't imagine Paul using it in his weak state. She started to reach for it, but, with a shot of enthusiasm, he yanked the gun out of her reach, insisting that he was "fine," and could "handle it." Crystal disagreed and she made sure to let him know as much.

"This masculine bull crap needs to stop, right now. Take the pistol and start acting like you want to live."

Paul seemed to freeze in that moment, staring at Crystal with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. Then he broke out into a fit of laughter, his form shaking and making it much harder for Crystal to balance. Panic also started to rise in Crystal's chest as she imagined what was behind the door, possibly listening.

"Stop, stop, stop. You're gonna make yourself sick, and we don't want anyone checking on us before we get a chance to take advantage of the element of surprise."

Her comment only seemed to make him laugh even harder, but a fit of coughs shut his giggle fest down that much quicker, which had Crystal trying to quiet him even more. But in between heaves of air, Paul explained himself.

"Crystal, they already know something is up."

She stared at him incredulously, not exactly sure how he would know that or what he was trying to tell her. Her face must have read complete disbelief because he didn't find anything too funny anymore. His laughter faded away, and his smile became a hard line.

"How long has," he flung his head back to reference the man dead on the floor, "that guy been down here? An hour? Two? Whatever he was sent down here for, surely he'd be back already."

Crystal hadn't even thought about the man since they had made the climb, and that in itself took at least half an hour to do. Once it was in her mind, it stuck there and was making her sick the longer they stood at the door talking about it. She was reminded then of the man who had commanded his group to take her shoes and knock her into unconsciousness. She wouldn't be surprised if he had commanded them to watch the door in case they tried to escape. He was probably on the other side, ready to put a bullet between her eyes the first chance he got, and it was apparent that Paul agreed. Crystal wanted to punch herself for not thinking of it first.

"Crys, you have to shoot. You have to shoot the second you see someone. Cause if you don't, they'll shoot you without even a thought."

Crystal met Paul's eyes. She knew he was serious, but now that she had to face reality, she was beginning to fear. She had always been afraid, but her fear now was so close and so dangerous. She would kill or be killed. That reality was frightening, and one she had only ever read about in books and saw on TV shows. She would have to put aside her care for human life and just shoot, because her life had to come first. That was what survival was about  — who makes it out alive.

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