Isolated

Chapter 85

Chapter 85

I bolted out of the room, down the hall, and away from where I was. Reid knew I escaped; he knew I had been in the security sect! Sure, they could no longer see me on the cameras, but them knowing I escaped was just as bad. I had to get the fuck away from this area!

My chest was pounding in panic; any second an army would hunt me down. Every second, every step I ran, was full of fear. God, they were going to catch me, come up behind me, put a bullet in my back! And at the same time, I was playing Russian roulette with every corner I sprinted around. Thankfully, there was nobody in my path and nobody to stop me. I just kept running. However, logic said it was only a matter of time until I run into somebody.

Rushing down a narrow bright white side hall, I swung into the first open door and shut it, leaving me in darkness. Searching with my free hand, I determined I was in some kind of utility closet. I had no idea where I was, no clue where to go, but for this moment in time, I was safe and could take a few deep breaths.

One hand holding the gun, my other rose to feel my wound and— ugh! Ugh, holy fucking lord, not a good idea to touch! Not good! Just the small brush of my fingers made me double over and wince sharply. Thankfully, the bloody fabric I tied around it was still there. Just like my heavy breathing was still there. I'm still alive. There was a strong chance I wouldn't be much longer so I needed to be smart. How do I get out? How do I evade the people now looking for me? Where the fuck can I find a window?

I was on the same floor as the business center and the dining room. However, I also knew we were on the side of a mountain and still partially underground. My best bet was to go up, but how? I didn't know if there were floors above this one. On the tour, Reid didn't speak of or show me any floors above this – besides the elevator to his office and house. His office didn't have windows or a door, but I knew his house would.

I've never been up to his house, but there would be windows, access to the outside. It was also private and wouldn't have a bunch of killers running around. However, there were a few problems. Number one: the only access I knew to his house was the elevator in the business center. Which was always busy with people. Number two: that elevator also went up to his office, which was where I last saw Reid. And number three: only Reid knew the code to get up to his house from the elevator. Trying to go up there would be stupid and suicidal.

But there had to be another way up there, right? An elevator couldn't be the only to access his office and house. I mean hell, things could go wrong. Like, I don't know, the fucking power could go out. Yeah, there had to be stairs, but would it be worth trying to find it? In a now very brightly lit building where people were searching for me? I mean... what other option did I have? I at least knew that general area and had an idea of where to look. Unless his house spanned his entire headquarters, stairs up to his house would have to be located in the business center or around it. The stairs also would not be out in the open. It would probably be in a cut off hallway or corner where nobody hardly goes. I mean would you really want an access point to your personal space right out in the open or even in sight of where you do business? It would likely be an isolated dinky hall like this.

I stood there, debating deeply if I should open this door or not. Because god, it's just down right retarded when you think about it. I would be heading towards an area with a lot of people – not even knowing where to go exactly. I encounter even one person, more would hear, more would see, and I'd be done. Looking in smaller less populated areas made me feel better, but not much. The plan made my stomach turn and ache. I would probably die, but by now, I've accepted that. I just needed to be careful. Very careful.

If I do encounter someone though, I couldn't use a gun though. I left my scissors behind. Reaching around me and stepping a few feet in each direction, I felt the cluttered shelves and found a switch by the door. Flicking it, a lonely light bulb turned on and showed me what I was working with. There were mops, brooms, buckets, and tools. Drills, screw drivers, nails and bolts scattered on the small shelf. There wasn't anything sharp. And if you people think I will result to using broken glass again as a knife, I swear to god, I'll—