Chapter 19: Calm Before Storm

Ding-!

Elevator’s door of ground floor opened and Lorenzo was already on his move with dagger in hand.

Corridor was empty except for debris, flickering lights and smell of burning smoke.

’All the terrorists must be in the east corridor of the main dining hall with the rest of the hostages.’

He exited out of elevator and focused on surrounding, his heart was still pumping from the upper floors.

Ground floor was quiet, police’s screeching was getting louder outside. He had to get to the east corridor of dining hall before police comes.

Lorenzo quickly sneaked through broken restaurant, using debris to hide himself from the sight. His side was still hurting from knife and his arms ached due to continuous fighting but adrenaline was pumping in his system.

Sound of east corridor became clear as he neared the door. Hostages’ sobs and voices of commanding terrorists became clearer. His hand slightly shook.

Lorenzo crouched behind the broken wall and scoped the area. His breathing was steady.

He could see the entrance of dining hall. Without wasting any time, he neared the door quietly as he could.

At the door, Lorenzo crouched and opened it slightly to peek.

---

Dining hall was destroyed.

Tables and chairs were broken and scattered all over the place. Shattered glass glittered under the lights. Smell of gunpowder and blood filled the air.

Dozens of hostages were knelt down with hands up or behind their head, some of them were sobbing silently. Some looked at the floor, too scared to move.

A mother was hugging her young daughter tightly.

’’Mommy, I want to go home," little girl cried. "I want Daddy."

’’Mommy knows, sweetheart,’’ said mother, brushing off her daughter’s hair, ’’we’ll go home soon, just stay quiet for mommy’’

She didn’t know if they would go home alive, but she couldn’t tell her daughter that.

Few feet away, a woman was holding her younger brother’s stomach, trying to stop the bleeding.

"Please, stay with me."’ She begged, "someone will help us, just hold on."

Her brother’s pale face showed that he was in pain. He tightly gripped her hand.

"I don’t want to die."

Woman couldn’t tell him that she wouldn’t let him die. Because blood was dripping from her hands.

Some of the restaurant’s employees were huddled together. While they were Awakeners, their power couldn’t stand against eight heavily armed terrorists.

Besides, most of them were low class Awakeners. Even if they could take down one terrorist, the rest would have enough time to shoot the employees down before they could do anything.

Plus, there were so many hostages. Taking down even one terrorist would be a slaughter.

They could only wait for an opportunity.

If one would come.

It wasn’t always the case. Some people couldn’t stand waiting.

An employee was already killed after trying to disarm a terrorist. Another man lost his life when he pushed his wife down in front of the gunfire. Another person, a mother, pleaded with the terrorists to spare her child but the terrorists shot her for her insolence.

All of their bodies were still lying where they fell. Bloodstains decorated the floor.

Two young women were sitting together. Their faces were streaked with tears.

Their friend, Lax, was shot when he was trying to protect them. They couldn’t do anything as terrorists dragged him away from them. One of them kept looking at Lax’s direction.

"H-he was only trying to help us."

Her friend said nothing. She couldn’t breathe, much less say anything to comfort her.

At the other side of the hall, an old man was kneeling beside his son’s body.

Rex had lunged in front of his father when the shooting started. The bullet had pierced through him instead of his father.

Old man was gripping his son’s body, trying to stop the bleeding.

"Rex, please," he whispered, "open your eyes."

No response.

His wife died few years ago. Rex was the only thing left with him after years of loneliness. Now, he was losing the last thing he had.

Old man buried his head in his son’s chest, his tears stained the boy’s shirt.

"You’re all I have."

No one wanted to approach them. Everyone was struggling with their own grief and didn’t want to anger the terrorists. They all wanted to go home, see their family and friend again and complain about their stupid day, but those words were meaningless to the terrorists holding them at gunpoint.

A terrorist stepped forward.

He was tall and muscular, with a black mask covering his face. Unlike the other terrorists, he seemed like a leader, the rest looked at him when he spoke.

He looked over the hostages.

Then he shouted.

"SILENCE!"

Several hostages flinched at the command. The little girl wrapped her arms around her mother while the old man gripped his son’s body tighter.

The terrorist raised his gun.

"Anyone who dares to make a sound will be silenced. I don’t care if you’re a child, old or young. Do I make myself clear?"

No one responded. His finger squeezed the trigger.

"Did I ask you a question?"

"Yes!" someone shouted.

The terrorist turned his head.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Good."

He lowered his gun and looked at his men.

"Keep an eye on them. Anyone who tries anything gets shot. I don’t want any surprises."

The terrorists formed a ring around the hostages with guns aimed at them.

Dining hall was quiet.

----

Lorenzo was at the entrance, listening.

He heard the commotion inside the hall. His right hand clutched the dagger. His knuckles turned white.

From the door, Lorenzo could see at least eight fully armed terrorists.

The number didn’t add up to what his last victim told him.

It was good that he didn’t trust those terrorists words.

Lorenzo’s eyes swept the room. There were many hostages, too many, his eyes searched the room.

’Where is she....?’

’Don’t tell me...’

Lorenzo started to think the worst scenario but then.

"At least tell me why you are doing this!"

Lorenzo heard familiar voice. His whole body had turned to stone.

Lorenzo turned his gaze at far right side through the door.

There she was - SOFIA.

Her right cheek was swollen, one of her eyes was puffed up. Her dress was messy, her hands were cuffed behind her back as she stood among the other hostages.

Lorenzo’s eyes locked on her face.

For a moment, he didn’t think about the eight terrorists in the room, the dagger in his hand and the bleeding side wound.

All he could see was Sofia’s beaten face.

His hands shook. Not from tiredness. From something else. Something filled his veins with a strange sensation.

The feeling of rage. The feeling of losing control.

...And then, the world turned into hell.