I Want to Die, But I Am Immortal-Chapter 47: Trap

There was no more time. Every breath he took reduced the sliver of a chance he had purchased by pushing Sophia’s mother out the window. The kitchen was a single-entrance trap. He was aware of that.

They were aware of that. However, they were unaware of his firearm. The only variable that mattered was that. In a game where he was supposed to have no hand at all, it was his ace, his last unexpected card.

He glanced around the room. On the counter was a block of knives. His body moved without conscious thought. He grabbed the heaviest one, a chef’s knife.

It had a worn, smooth handle. It was a prop, but it felt pointless against men brandishing pistols. A prop was necessary for any successful deception.

He went to the door of the kitchen. He avoided standing in front of it. He squeezed into the corner next to the picture frame. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the cool plaster of the wall.

He listened with strain. His system-enhanced senses turned the world outside the kitchen door into a symphony of tiny sounds. The sound of canvas scraping against drywall reached his ears.

The rubber soles on the hardwood floor compressed almost imperceptibly. They were silent predators, moving with a fluid grace. He could hear them, though. He could mentally chart their progress.

Three of them. Slow. Intentional. They were directly outside.

Adam understood their attitude. They believed they had him. They thought he was a scared boy cowering alongside a scared woman. They thought they had no weapons.

Their weakness was this assumption. He planned to take advantage of the weakness in their professional armor. It would be more than just a benefit to be surprised. It would be crucial.

He withdrew his head from the wall. A glance around the kitchen revealed nothing more useful. Typical home clutter. He exhaled deeply and slowly. It had no effect on the tumultuous energy coiling in his stomach. He needed to set a goal for them. A fake one.

He stepped back from the door, his actions now motivated by a frantic, cold logic. He reached for the little kitchen table made of wood. It appeared lighter than it actually was.

The strain of pulling it across the linoleum floor made him grunt. The sound of the table legs screeching was terrifying. He flinched in the hopes that they would think he was moving in panic.

After pushing it into the middle of the space, he began to stack objects on top of it. A chair made of wood. A potato bag that exploded when struck. He tore a microwave off the counter. He quickly constructed a disorganized, haphazard barrier.

The heap of trash was in the center of the floor when he finished.

Reaching just below his chest, it was a frenzied mess. He stood back and gazed at his creation. It was pitiful. No bullet would be stopped by it. It was a garbage wall. He had a moment of hopelessness. a profound awareness that he would not be saved by this thin barrier. It was not intended to.

His gaze flicked sideways. A tiny open shelf set into the wall caught his attention. It was small, claustrophobic, and piled high with inexpensive glass plates and bowls. A person could hardly fit inside it. It was flawless. Adam’s lips formed a tiny, gloomy smile. It was not a humorous smile.

It was the somber face of a man who had recently discovered a tomb where he could hide.

The three masked assassins had gathered outside the kitchen. They formed a flawless, lethal force in front of the door. The lead man was not a savage. He was accurate.

The speed at which the target had dragged the woman away had taken him by surprise for a moment. However, that astonishment had diminished. All he felt now was icy certainty.

The target had committed a deadly mistake. He was in a tight spot. Their intelligence was unambiguous. No guns. Both the woman and the boy were powerless. In a slaughterhouse, they were lambs.

The lead killer extended a gloved hand. He took hold of the doorknob’s cool metal. He stopped and glanced back at his two companions. Behind him, they stood with their pistols ready and low. When they saw his look, they all nodded sharply at once. They were prepared. The mission was just seconds away from being finished.

He turned the knob with one last silent affirmation. The lock opened with a click. He was not the first to enter. Pushing the door inward, he moved aside. He was swept into the room by his two partners. They were a smooth two-man team that moved like shadows. The junk in the middle of the room caught their attention right away. They found just what they had anticipated.

A scared amateur’s desperate barricade.

They lifted their weapons, concentrating all of their attention on the temporary shelter. They were positive that the woman and Adam were huddled behind it. When they saw it, they were absolutely certain.

A hand protruded from the side of the pile. A knife in a gloved hand. A perfect touch of panicked realism, it was trembling slightly. Adam had created the appearance of an arm by stuffing one of his own gloves with rags. It gripped the knife he had just reached for tightly.

They only needed that confirmation. It was evidence. Their targets had been located. The three killers were now completely inside the kitchen.

They did not bother looking around the tiny room. The pantry was not checked. The dark alcove with the stack of glass plates was out of their line of sight. They stared at the heap of trash.

The leader gestured subtly.

The noise in the kitchen was deafening. A series of violent coughs were the muffled reports of their silenced pistols. Thump, thump, thump. Thump-thump. They all started shooting. Single shots were not fired by them.

They fired a controlled barrage of bullets straight into the barricade. They fired 9mm rounds into the stack of household items. The wooden table leg was splintered into pieces by bullets that tore through it.

Sparks flew into the air as they tore apart the microwave. There was no resistance to the cheap material. The rounds chewed up the wall behind it as they went right through the opposite side. They were ensuring that nothing could possibly live behind that pile.