There was blood on the lieutenant's chest.  Bryan tore open the white dress shirt and saw the hole in the Kevlar vest beneath.

He leaned over the lieutenant, knowing that his body was too high and any bullet coming through the wood would tear though him.  His fingers felt around the shoulder to the back, found the exit wound beside the scapula and much more blood.  The bullet had gone through Hayes' ribs and two layers of bullet proof vest.  So much for police issue protective gear, Bryan thought.

And so much for Hayes if they couldn't get him out of here immediately.  There was too much blood leaking onto the floor.  The wound was high on the chest, above the heart, but it had probably torn through the lung.  There were so many blood vessels in the area, Hayes could bleed to death in minutes.

"Is he still breathing?"  Meyers whispered as he crawled over.

"Yeah, but he's losing blood."  He kept the pressure on Hayes' chest as he felt the buzzing from the stolen phone stop.  Hayes was the emergency, but he had a hunch.  "My inside pocket.  There's a phone there.  Get it."

Meyers stared at him a moment, then reached in under Bryan's lapel and fished out the cell phone.  He stared at the screen.  "It's an address.  This address."

It was what Bryan had feared.  He closed his eyes and felt Hayes wheeze in a breath beneath him.  "What else?"

"Nothing."

There was no code, no request for confirmation?  He wasn't sure how Jared Smith and his underlings had organized their communication, but they might have saved the simplest, most direct messages for emergencies.

Bryan looked over at Meyers.  "You have to get Hayes out now.  Drive him to the hospital.  Don't wait for an ambulance."

Meyers glanced at the phone, then stared back.  "We can't leave you.  I can get backup."

"They're coming."  Bryan nodded at the phone.  "That's their evil phone tree.  I don't know how many are coming, but if they see Hayes, they'll make sure he dies.  And us for protecting him."

He watched it sink into Meyers.  "I'll still call for backup."

"Just do it from the car," Bryan said and nodded down at Hayes.  "Here, pressure."

He wiped his hands on his pants and exchanged the clip in his handgun.  He held out a hand to Meyers.  "Give me your gun."

Meyers handed his over.  It was a heavy Sig Sauer with a stainless steel slide.  Bryan checked the clip and made sure there was one in the chamber.  He picked Hayes' Ruger up from the floor, then dug for the spare clip under the lieutenant's armpit. 

Bryan holstered his Glock.  It was the only one of the three he was used to, and he'd save the precise shooting for later.  "Do you think someone besides me could carry a department approved weapon?"

Meyers, hands pressed against Hayes' wounds, smiled back at him.  Hayes let out a groan, but didn't move.

Another shot tore through the wood and into the concrete wall.

"What are you going to do?" Meyers asked.

"On the next reload, I'm going to move toward the door.  You stay behind me and pull him out."

"I think he's got one shot left," Meyers said as he scuttled around and hooked his hands under the lieutenant's armpits, body still flat on the ground.  They waited.

Ten seconds later, the shot came.  Lower than the others.  It skidded along the concrete floor between Bryan and the other detectives.

He heard the ping from the other end of the factory.

After a quick nod at Meyers, Bryan jumped up and raised both borrowed handguns.  He fixed on where he had seen the muzzle flash and began to fire.  Between shots, he heard Meyers groan behind him.  He kept his eyes on the far end of the factory and kept firing steadily.  He sidestepped toward the door, hoped that Meyers could keep up.

"Clear."  Meyer's voice was a hiss behind him.  Bryan looked quickly at the stacks of crates underneath the stairs.  The limited cover they gave was twenty feet away.  "Come on!" Meyers said.

Bryan lowered the Ruger and fired the Sig dry.  Then, he turned, threw the empty gun out the door at Meyers and ran for the crates. 

One shot, then another, blasted into the concrete blocks behind him as he ran.  Finally, he ducked behind the nearest crate and flattened himself to the ground.  His heart beat impossibly hard inside his chest and his breathing was fast and rough.  It had been a ridiculously short sprint, but the fear of being shot had made his body react as if he'd just run a mile.  Smith wasn't just a good shot, he was smart.  Bryan knew that didn't bode well, but maybe he could buy William time to get Jess out.

He looked back at the door, but the angle was wrong and he couldn't see Meyers outside.  He couldn't tell if Meyers had been able to retrieve his Sig, but it wouldn't matter.  The detective would have his hands full keeping Hayes alive and getting to safety.  Help wouldn't be coming from that direction for a while, only more armed men who wanted to kill him.

William was upstairs, hopefully dealing with Harold and getting Jess.  If he was able to get her, they'd have to come down those stairs.  Bryan wasn't sure whether William could continue to dodge bullets while helping Jess.  It would be his job to occupy Smith to make sure the stairs were safe.

He slid the spare clip into the Ruger and rolled away from the door, down the line of crates and boxes.  When he reached the end, he peeked out.  It looked like there were crates scattered all the way down to the far wall, where Jared Smith was.  There were at least enough to provide some concealment.  He might be able to get to the man's side or back from here.

Then Bryan heard footsteps on the stairs above him.

*

(Author’s note:  Someone coming down the steps?  Does that mean Bryan is now facing Jared and Harold by himself?  And the bad guys have reinforcements coming?  What do you think?  How can he get out of this?  Thanks for the votes and comments, and please tell everyone you can about Schism!)