Chapter 99: Escape route

Kai heard the cracking sound above his head—krak, krak—like old bones breaking. Fine dust fell from between the boards, clinging to his hair, to his shoulders, to the still-open wound on his left arm. He didn’t brush it off. His eyes remained fixed straight ahead, toward the dark end of the corridor, while his right hand gripped the pistol and his left hand supported Leonhard leaning against his shoulder—heavy, hot, and wet.

Blood.

Kai could feel it seeping through Leonhard’s jacket, penetrating his own sleeve, dripping onto the wooden floor—drip, drip—forming red dots that dried between the planks. Leonhard was still breathing. Short. Panting. But still breathing.

"Are you still with me?" Kai asked. His voice was soft, almost drowned out by the sound of gunfire occasionally heard from downstairs.

Leonhard didn’t answer right away. Kai felt the old man’s head move—a slight nod, then stop, like even that movement was too expensive to make. "I’m... still here," he finally said. Hoarse. "You don’t need... to keep carrying me. I’m not... a sack of rice."

"You’re not a sack of rice," Kai said. "Sacks of rice don’t bleed on the floor."

Leonhard laughed—or tried to laugh. What came out was just a short sound in his throat, turning into a cough—cough, cough—and Kai felt the man’s body tense in his arms.

"Don’t talk," Kai said. "Save your strength."

"You’re the one... asking me questions."

Kai didn’t answer. They walked along the second-floor corridor—slowly, with short steps, while below the sound of gunfire started to fade. Not because it was safe. Because they were regrouping. Because they were waiting.

The corridor was narrow. Its wooden walls were no longer even—some planks jutting out, others missing, revealing the iron frame behind them. The lights on the ceiling flickered—flicker, flicker—like a failing heart. Kai passed a half-open room door, passed an empty bookshelf, passed a small window whose glass was shattered and the night wind entered through its gap—whoosh—cold, carrying the scent of wet earth and gunpowder.

Leonhard coughed again. Longer this time. Kai felt something warm seeping into his sleeve—more blood—and he quickened his pace. A little. Not too much. If he ran, Leonhard would fall.

"Kai." Leonhard’s voice was barely audible.

"Don’t talk."

"You have to... listen." Leonhard drew a breath—hoarse, long, painful. "If later... someone blocks the way... you leave me."

Kai stopped. Not because he was surprised. Not because he was angry. He just stopped—in the middle of the corridor, with Leonhard in his arms—and stared at the old man. Leonhard’s face was pale. His lips were dry. But his eyes—his eyes were still the same as before. Eyes that never asked for help. Eyes that never admitted pain.

"No," Kai said.

"Kai—"

"I won’t leave you." Kai continued his steps—faster now, more steady. "You told me to come. I came. And I won’t go home without you."

Leonhard didn’t say anything. But Kai could feel something different in the man’s body—something that relaxed, like a rope finally released.

They reached the end of the corridor. Stairs. Leading downstairs. Kai stopped at the top step and listened. From below—the sound of footsteps. Two people. Maybe three. And a softer sound—the sound of a radio, the sound of codes, the sound of someone giving instructions.

Kai lowered Leonhard carefully—slowly, with one hand supporting his back—and he placed the man on the floor, leaning against the wall. Leonhard groaned—hgggh—and his head drooped.

"Wait here," Kai said. "I’ll clear the way."

Leonhard raised his hand—slowly, trembling—and gripped Kai’s arm. "Don’t... don’t be stupid."

"I’m always stupid," Kai said. "You said so yourself."

He released Leonhard’s hand—slowly—and he descended the stairs. One by one. Pistol in his right hand. Pistol in his left hand. His steps made no sound—his heels touched the steps carefully, his body weight shifted slowly, his breath held.

On the ground floor, two men stood in front of the main room door. They were on guard—one facing the corridor, one facing the door. The one facing the corridor saw Kai first.

"H—"

Kai fired before the man could finish the word. Bang! The bullet pierced the man’s neck—and he fell before his body touched the floor. The second man turned—too late. Kai had already moved—down the last step, charging, kicking the pistol from the man’s hand before he could raise it. The pistol fell—clack—and Kai caught it in midair, spun it, and fired.

Bang!

The man fell.

Kai stood there for a moment—with slightly heavy breath, with two pistols in his hands, with two bodies on the floor. He waited. One second. Two seconds. No one came. He turned and climbed the stairs—fast, with lighter steps now—and he returned to Leonhard.

"We have to move," Kai said. He helped Leonhard stand—slowly, carefully—and he felt the man lean on him again, heavier than before. "There’s an exit in the main room. We’ll go through it."

"You already... cleared the way?"

"For now."

They descended the stairs—slowly, carefully. Leonhard groaned every time his foot touched a step—hgggh—but he didn’t stop. Kai could feel the man’s body trembling—not from fear, but from exhaustion, from the blood still flowing, from the pain he couldn’t hide.

They reached the ground floor. Kai pushed the main room door—creak—and he stepped inside.

The main room was spacious. Long tables arranged neatly—with scattered chairs, with a blackboard still standing in the corner, with dimly lit lamps. And across the room—the exit. A worn wooden door, with a rusted iron handle, with light entering through the gap beneath it.

But between them and that door—three men. Standing in the middle of the room. Weapons in hand. Eyes watching.

Kai didn’t wait. He fired first.

Bang! Bang!

Two men fell—one hit in the chest, one in the head. The third man dropped behind a table—thud—and Kai pulled Leonhard behind another table, pressing his back against the wood.

"Can you shoot?" Kai asked.

Leonhard raised his pistol—slowly, trembling—and he nodded. "The... the left one."

"Don’t push yourself."

"I... still can."

Kai nodded. He raised his pistol—and he fired toward the table where the third man was hiding. Bang! Bang! The bullets hit the wood—didn’t penetrate, but enough to make the man lift his head. And that was when Leonhard fired—bang!—once, right at the man’s head.

The man fell.

Kai stood up. He pulled Leonhard—slowly—and they walked across the main room, past the tables, past the chairs, past the blackboard. The exit was getting closer. The light from outside was getting brighter. Kai could see dust dancing in the air—swirling under the sunlight entering through the gap in the door.

Then—bang!

The bullet hit the wall beside Kai’s head. He pulled Leonhard behind a table—thud—and he heard the sound of footsteps. Many. From the corridor on the right side. Kai peeked—and he saw them. Four men. Walking carefully. Weapons in hand. Eyes watching.

"Four people," Kai said. "From the right."

Leonhard nodded—slowly. "I... I have three bullets."

"Enough."

Kai waited. One second. Two seconds. The first man appeared—and Kai fired. Bang! The man fell. The second man tried to dodge—but Kai had already fired again. Bang! The man fell. The third and fourth men retreated—back behind the wall—and Kai could hear them talking in soft, panicked voices, giving each other instructions.

"We have to move," Kai said. "Now."

He pulled Leonhard up—and they ran. Slowly—because Leonhard couldn’t run fast—but faster than before. The exit was getting closer. Ten meters. Eight. Six.

Then—the third man appeared from behind the wall. He raised his weapon—but Kai had already fired. Bang! The man fell. The fourth man appeared—and Leonhard fired. Bang! The man fell.

They reached the door. Kai pushed it—creak—and the light from outside illuminated their faces. Fresh air. Wind. Kai could feel something warm in his chest—something like hope.

But before they could step out—someone appeared from behind the door.

A man. Standing there. Silent. In dark clothes, with a hat covering part of his face, with a pistol in his hand that wasn’t aimed at them. He didn’t move. He just stood—like a statue—like someone who had been waiting for a long time.

Kai raised his pistol. "Who are you?"

The man didn’t answer. He just raised his hand—slowly—and he opened his jacket.

Beneath that jacket—on his left arm—there was a tattoo.

The Grim Reaper tattoo.

Kai froze.

"You..." His voice was hoarse. "You’re one of us."

The man smiled—a thin smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. "Before," he said. "Now—" he lowered his hand, letting his jacket fall open, letting that tattoo be clearly visible under the sunlight. "—now I’m just someone who wants you to listen."

Leonhard lifted his head—slowly, with difficulty. "Who... who are you?"

The man looked at Leonhard—for a long time. Then he turned to Kai. "My name isn’t important. What’s important—" he paused for a moment, "—what’s important is that you two have to get out of here. Now. Before the others come."

"The others?" Kai asked.

"Roky isn’t the main one," the man said. "He’s just—" he stopped again, like he was searching for the right word, "—he’s just bait. The one actually coming isn’t him. Not the people you see out there. The one actually coming—" he looked at Kai, "—is someone you once knew. Someone you once trusted. Someone who—"

Kai raised his pistol higher. "Who?"

The man didn’t answer. He just stepped to the side—moving away from the door—and he pointed toward the road outside. "Go. Now. I’ll hold off those who try to follow."

"Why are you helping us?" Kai asked.

The man smiled again—a smile more bitter than before. "Because I was once part of you," he said. "And I know—" he paused for a moment, "—I know what will happen if you die here. I don’t want that to happen."

Kai looked at him—for a long time. Then he nodded—slowly. He helped Leonhard through the door—slowly, carefully—and they stepped outside. Fresh air greeted them. Wind. Sun. Kai could feel something warm on his face—something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

He turned back—once. The tattooed man was still standing at the threshold—with a pistol in his hand, with eyes staring toward the corridor inside the base. "Whoever comes," he said—his voice soft, but clear, "—don’t let them through."

Kai nodded. He turned—and he helped Leonhard walk away from the base—away from the smoke, away from the gunfire, away from everything.

Behind them—the tattooed man stood at the threshold. Alone. Waiting.

And inside the base—the sound of footsteps started to be heard. Many. Getting closer.

The man raised his pistol. "Come on," he said—softly, to himself. "Let’s end this."