Chapter 98: THE DEADLY TRAP

Kai placed the gun on the table and looked at Leonhard. The room was silent—only the sound of wind entering through the cracked window, only the sound of gunfire occasionally heard in the distance, only the sound of their breathing, irregular. Outside, Roky still stood among the trees—with a megaphone in his hand, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, with dozens of men behind him waiting for orders.

"They’re not attacking directly from outside," Kai said.

Leonhard lifted his head. "What do you mean?"

"If they wanted to destroy us, they would have done it already. They have enough people—enough weapons—to level this place two hours ago. But they didn’t. They chose to surround, to give ultimatums, to wait." Kai walked to the window and stared at Roky still standing among the trees. "That means they have a reason not to attack directly. Maybe they want us to surrender without bloodshed. Maybe they want to take something inside—documents, weapons, or you yourself. Or maybe—" he turned to Leonhard, "—they’re not as many as we think."

Leonhard looked at him for a long time. Then he nodded slowly. "So you want to attack them when they come in?"

"Yes. We can’t hold out here forever. We don’t have enough ammunition. We don’t have enough people. But if we make them come inside—into a place we’ve prepared—we have the advantage. We know every corner of this house. They don’t."

Leonhard stood from his chair—with the pistol still in his hand, with eyes starting to blaze. "Alright. I’m in."

They started working. Kai took rope from the storage room—thick rope, worn but still strong, with fibers starting to fray at the ends. He set it up in the main corridor, at ankle height—low enough not to be seen, high enough to make anyone passing trip. At the end of the rope, he tied empty cans he’d found in the kitchen—cans rusted in places, with faded labels—and he made sure those cans would rattle loudly when dragged. Clink... Clink... He tested the rope—pulling it gently, listening to the cans—and he nodded with satisfaction.

In the second corridor, he set up thin wire between the stair railing and the wall—wire that wouldn’t be visible under the dim light, with a color that blended with the wood, with tension enough to make anyone who hit it lose their balance. He tested that wire—pressing it with his finger, feeling its tension—and he made sure it wouldn’t break too easily.

In the third corridor, he set up nails on the floor—with points facing up, hidden under a worn carpet whose color had faded. He arranged those nails carefully—not too close, not too sparse—and he made sure the points were sharp enough to pierce shoes. Anyone who stepped on them would feel a piercing pain—maybe not enough to cripple, but enough to make them scream and reveal their position.

Leonhard worked on the other side of the house. He took oil drums from the storage room—heavy drums, with metal rusted in places, with oil still remaining inside—and he dragged them to the underground corridor. Sssrek... Sssrek... The sound of metal scraping against the wooden floor echoed throughout the corridor. He placed those drums at the end of the corridor—in a narrow spot, in a place that couldn’t be avoided—and he set up a rope connecting the drums to the door. When the door opened, the drums would fall—THUD!—and oil would spill across the floor. Anyone passing would slip. And the cans he placed near the drums would rattle—telling Kai and Leonhard that someone had entered.

At the second-floor windows, Leonhard set up wires tied to the window handles. When a window opened, the wire would pull—and the cans hanging from the ceiling would rattle. Clink... Clink... He tested each window—opening them slowly, listening to the cans—and he made sure everything worked. At the back door, he set up a rope tied to a wooden chair—a chair that would drag and hit the table when the door opened. The sound would echo throughout the house—and give them time to prepare.

After the traps were finished, Kai and Leonhard went to the weapons storage room. The room was small—just enough for one iron rack attached to the wall, with several ammunition boxes already open, with several weapons hanging on nails. Kai took several pistols—not to use, but to place in strategic spots. One pistol in the drawer of the main room table—hidden under a pile of papers. One pistol under the bed in the second-floor room—hidden behind a worn blanket. One pistol inside the kitchen cupboard—hidden behind a stack of plates. One shotgun behind the bookshelf in the corridor—hidden in a place that wouldn’t be seen from the door.

"If we run out of ammunition," Kai said, "we still have backups. We won’t be caught without weapons."

Leonhard nodded. He took several magazines and put them in his pockets—in his right pocket, in his left pocket, in his inner jacket pocket. "We split up?"

"Yes. You on the second floor. Me on the ground floor. We’ll make them split—and we’ll attack from two directions."

From outside, Roky’s voice echoed. "Time’s up! We’re coming in now!"

Kai nodded to Leonhard. "Good luck."

"You too."

They separated. Leonhard climbed the stairs—with a pistol in his hand, with quick steps, with eyes watching every corner. Kai stood in the middle of the main room—with a pistol in his right hand, with a pistol in his left hand, with eyes staring at the front door.

That front door opened—hard, with an ear-splitting sound. BRAK! The first men entered—with weapons in their hands, with eyes watching. They walked carefully—with slow steps, with bodies slightly bent—but they didn’t see the rope Kai had set up on the floor. The first man stepped on it—and he tripped. THUD! He fell—and his pistol fired toward the ceiling. BANG! The sound echoed throughout the house—and the second man, panicking, shot toward the sound. BANG! The bullet hit the wall—and fragments flew toward the third man. The third man screamed—and he backed away, hitting the fourth man. Both fell—and the fifth man, trying to dodge, stepped on the nails Kai had set under the carpet. He screamed—AAAH!—and he shot toward the floor. BANG! BANG! The bullets hit the wood—and fragments flew in every direction.

Kai raised his pistol and fired—twice, with quick movements, with eyes not blinking. BANG! BANG! Two men fell. He spun—and he saw another man trying to slip in through the window. The man had already opened the window—and the wire Leonhard had set was already pulled—and the cans on the ceiling rattled. CLINK! CLINK! CLINK! Kai fired toward the sound—once, right at the man’s head. BANG! The man fell—and his body landed on the cans on the floor.

On the second floor, Leonhard was also fighting. Kai heard gunshots—BANG! BANG!—and the sound of falling bodies—THUD!—and the sound of shattering glass—CRAAK! He couldn’t see what was happening upstairs—but he knew Leonhard was still holding out. He heard the back door being opened—CREEEAK!—and the sound of a chair being dragged—SKREEEK!—and the sound of a table being hit—THUD!—and the sound of gunfire—BANG!

Kai turned—and he saw three men who had managed to get past the traps. They hadn’t tripped on the rope. They hadn’t stepped on the nails. They hadn’t hit the wire. They moved carefully—with eyes watching every step—with weapons already ready. They were trained people. People who had done this before.

Kai backed away—slowly, with pistols in his hands, with eyes watching. He lured them into the underground corridor—into the place he had prepared. The first man followed—carefully, with a pistol in his hand. The second and third men followed behind. Kai walked backward—past the oil drums, past the cans, past the wooden door leading to the corridor. He pushed that door—CREEEAK!—and he saw the oil drums he had set fall—THUD!—and oil spilled across the floor. The first man stepped on the oil—and he slipped. THUD! He fell—and his pistol fired toward the ceiling. The second man tried to dodge—but he also stepped on the oil. THUD! He fell—and his body hit an empty drum. The third man—more careful—stopped at the threshold. He raised his pistol—but Kai had already fired first. BANG! The man fell—and his body covered the door.

Kai stood there for a moment—with heavy breath, with a still-smoking pistol. He saw three bodies on the floor—not moving—and he turned. He took his radio from his pocket—and he pressed its button. "Leonhard," he said. "Leonhard, are you there?"

No answer. Just static—KRRSSSH—and silence.

Kai furrowed his brow. "Leonhard!" He pressed the button again—harder this time. "Answer me!"

No answer. Just static—KRRSSSH—and a longer silence.

Kai clenched his fists. He stared at the stairs leading to the second floor—and he saw something that made him stop. Blood. On the steps. Dripping—slowly, with a dark red color—and flowing to the floor. Kai raised his pistol and climbed the stairs—one by one, carefully, with eyes watching.

He passed the bodies lying there—men he had shot, men Leonhard had shot—and he reached the second floor. The corridor was silent. The room doors were open—some, not all. At the end of the corridor, he saw Leonhard—lying on the floor, with a hand still holding a pistol, with blood soaking the side of his body. Kai ran toward him—with quick steps, with the pistol still in his hand—and he crouched beside him. "Leonhard!"

Leonhard opened his eyes—slowly, with difficulty. "Kai..." His voice was hoarse. "You... you came..."

Kai checked his wound—a gunshot wound in the side of his body, blood still flowing, breath still heavy. "You’ll be fine," he said. "We have to get out of here."

Leonhard smiled faintly—a weak smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. "You... you always... lie..."

Kai didn’t say anything. He grabbed Leonhard’s arm and he helped the man stand—slowly, carefully, with trained hands. Leonhard groaned in pain—HGGH—but he stood. He leaned on Kai—with one hand on Kai’s shoulder, with one hand still holding a pistol—and they walked down the corridor. Outside—the sound of gunfire was starting to fade—and Kai could hear Roky’s voice shouting, ordering his men to retreat.