“This is getting a little hotter than I like it,” Stargile yelled.
Most of the station had been wiped out by the surge of the Warming.
They descended on the station like a belligerent swarm of hornets, angered to frenzy by nuisance noise or other intrusion.
Heavy militia-caliber bullets ripped through the building like needles through silk cloth, and most of their compatriots in blue lay dead or dying on the cold marble floors of the 40’s era police station.
The Warming had no qualms about killing multitudes to get to those unlucky two.
“Stargile, we were damned lucky to be in these interrogation cells,” Mac said.
“Yeah, damned lucky. Looks like our luck is running out though.”
They were still under a barrage of heavy machine gun fire from the well-armed terrorists.
“As soon as they figure out that the return fire has stopped, they’ll make an assault on this building. What’s our next move,” Mac wondered.
The interrogation room was situated on the second floor of the three-story building. There were stairs down a long hallway that led to the lower floors, and up to “the repository”, where evidence was filed in a warehouse that covered the entire third floor. From there stairs led to the roof, and then down a side firewall and into an alley.
(side alley big enough for a vehicle; front and back of alley had doors that from the outside appeared as continuation of building (facade)…right turn down back alley led to public access street, left turn appeared as a “blind” alley (brick wall), but with right turn led down another alley and out into busy boulevard, a full block and half away from police station – used to whisk people away from the press and give privacy to citizens as a courtesy – this would be a means of assault)
The Fiction of MB Shepherd 