Miss No One by Mark Ayre (interesting books to read TXT) 📕

The bullets disappeared, leaving a hole in their wake. Abbie rushed immediately to the left of the double doors, pressing her shoulder to the wall.

From this angle, she could see into the corridor, see the space behind the double doors, and see Smoker was not hiding there.

In which case, he had to be in one of the four classrooms. Given the time he'd had, one of nearest two. Going to the back two would have been a risk. Abbie almost certainly would have seen the door swing shut.

Within the classrooms, there would be windows. Abbie could hear nothing but knew Smoker could even now by searching for a window he could open and through which he could escape outside.

Moving from the wall, shoving her gun through the shattered glass pane, Abbie tried the door handle but had no joy.

The lock would take no more than a few seconds to pick.

Abbie didn't have time for that.

Stepping back, she fired into the lock. Stepping forward, she grabbed the handle of the left door and yanked it open. Stepping forward again, she used her back as a doorstop as it tried to swing closed.

She kept both feet outside the building.

On each side of the corridor, a flimsy, carpeted wall rose to about waist height. Above this, windows into the classroom took over. The only break came at the end of each room, where could be found a door into class.

From her position in front of the open left front door, Abbie could see into the first classroom on the right. It looked as one might expect a classroom to look: rectangular tables, hard plastic chairs, an interactive whiteboard, a teachers desk, and plenty of student work on the wall. Tacked up around the board were large cut-out letters spelling bonjour, merci, je m'appelle, etc. It didn't take a genius to work out this was a French classroom and probably a languages block, which was unfortunate. Abbie had hoped for a Chemistry lab filled with test tubes of experimental solutions. One such solution would prove corrosive only when it came into contact with the skin of habitual smokers.

No such luck. If Abbie ran out of bullets, the next best weapon would be a French to English dictionary. On the flip side, this limitation also applied to Smoker.

The classroom she could see into was still and silent. She could see the width and breadth of it, and there was no sign of Smoker. This didn't rule out his presence. He could be hiding beneath a table or behind the teacher's desk; he could be pressed to the wall with his head beneath the window. There was no chance he hadn't heard Abbie break in. Somewhere nearby, he was plotting his next move.

Abbie prepared to kick open the other door and check the classroom opposite the one she could currently see.

Before she moved, she heard something.

Not from inside the building. From further away. The wind picked up pace, and it was as though it had done so specifically to bring warning to Abbie.

Sirens.

Distant but growing louder by the second. The speed with which the volume increased indicated the cop cars weren't interested in speed limits. Something had grabbed their attention, and they were keen to reach the party as soon as possible.

They were racing in Abbie's direction, but Abbie had no evidence it was her they were after, that they wouldn't swoop past the school en route to another crime.

Nonsense. They were coming for her.

Either someone nearby had heard the gunshots and called the police, or Kilman's contact had finally mobilised the armed response teams. Abbie's money was on option two. Perhaps the corrupt uniform had delayed until he or she received word from Smoker: Kilman is down. If Smoker feared he couldn't kill Abbie, what was the next best move to get her out the way while they carried out their heist?

Ensuring she was arrested for murdering a police officer would probably do it.

Time was running out. The sirens grew ever closer. Grabbing the second of the double doors, Abbie prepared to switch sides.

And Smoker fired.

He had been hiding in the classroom opposite the one on which Abbie had eyes. His bullets shattered windows on both sides of the corridor, sending a downpour of glass shards onto the central aisle's carpet.

Abbie ducked as the bullets came, then spun into the corridor.

Her heavy boots crunching through the littered glass shards, Abbie aimed through the empty window frames and fired two shots.

She'd seen her target at once. Her bullets shattered the exterior windows across the classroom but failed to hit Smoker, who had already slid through one such window and was dropping to the concrete on the other side.

Turning, Abbie burst back outside. Dived to the ground as Smoker span, firing wildly as he made his getaway.

Sitting up, Abbie aimed. Fired. One, two, three times. Again.

But Smoker had bolted away from Abbie and now disappeared around the side of another building. Out of reach.

Gone.

Abbie could give chase, but time was slipping away. Armed response might be a couple of minutes out. Abbie no longer needed the wind's help to hear the sirens.

From the front of the battered grey building, Abbie rushed to Kilman, dropped to his side. Careful not to stain her jeans in the ever-growing pool of blood that surrounded the cop.

"You go," Kilman said. His voice was a rasp. His shirt was so bloodsoaked it was impossible to tell where the bullets had entered. "If I'm alive, when they arrive, I'll tell them this wasn't you." He broke to release a volley of harsh, painful coughs. "Don't think I will be, though."

"No," said Abbie. "Me neither."

Kilman let out a dry, pained chuckle, then broke into another coughing fit. By this point, Abbie couldn't only hear the sirens but also the roaring engines and squealing tyres as the heavy-duty armed response vehicles drew ever nearer.

Kilman was weak. He seemed to be drifting.

"Know why they..." his words faded, his head tilted.

"Kilman?"

With a jolt, he looked back