Chapter 4 - The Broken Handle
I didn't wait for the doctor to finish. I broke into a sprint down the corridor, passing overturned supply carts and shattered glass.
Room 412’s door was wide open. The interior was wrecked—IV pole bent, monitor smashed against the wall, sheets torn away from the mattress. Empty. They had hunted for him and found nothing.
I pushed further down the dim hallway toward the abandoned X-ray archive wing. The air here smelled of old paper, ozone, and copper.
That was when I saw her.
A young woman, no more than twenty-four, wearing a gray janitorial jumpsuit stained with grease and dark fluid. She was backed against the heavy reinforced door of the archive room, her breathing ragged and shallow. Her hands were wrapped tightly around a splintered piece of wood—a broken mop handle.
Ten feet away from her lay a man in black tactical gear, unconscious, a massive bruise swelling across his jawline.
The janitor’s knuckles were bleeding. Her eyes were wide, fixed on the corner where another shadow moved.
“Step back,” I commanded, my voice dropping into the low, lethal register I used in combat zones.
The janitor flinched, her weapon trembling, but she didn't lower it. She didn't run. She shifted her weight, placing her body squarely between the heavy door behind her and the threat ahead.
“Don't come any closer,” she whispered fiercely, her voice cracking with exhaustion. “He's inside. You're not touching him.”
“Look at me,” I said slowly, keeping my hands visible, holding my identification badge out with two fingers. “I am Colonel Gabriel Moretti. That is my son inside that room.”
She blinked, the frantic adrenaline in her eyes flickering down just enough to read my face. The sharp end of the broken mop handle lowered half an inch.
“You're... his dad?”
“Yes.”
May you like
She exhaled a long, shuddering breath, her knees suddenly buckling. She caught herself against the wall, sliding down until she sat on the cold floor, the splintered wood clattering beside her.
“Thank God,” she muttered, pressing her dirty hands over her face. “I thought... I thought more of them were coming.”
