Something about the guy sent a deep chill through Darryl. He didn't seem to be holding a weapon or anything. He just stood there with his head thrown back, his legs spread, and his arms angled out from his body. He looked like he was praying, but for some odd reason he made Darryl think of an antenna—but what kind of signal he was picking up was anyone's guess.
He might be lots worse than one of the hit men.
"Must have put an extra guy outside to make sure no one escapes. They want to kill us all. Shit!"
"We gotta get Hank."
Menck turned from the window and headed for the door. "You get Hank while I get out."
Darryl grabbed his arm. "Hey. We're Kickers, man. We stick together. I'm gonna go find Hank. You want to face him later after you ran out on him, fine. Not me."
Menck looked at the ceiling, then said, "Fuck. All right. Let's find him."
Darryl peeked out the door. Nothing moving. The main staircase was only a few dozen feet down and across the hall.
But the hall was the last place Darryl wanted to be. He wanted to stay in this tiny room till morning, till he and Menck were the only ones left in the building, then sneak away.
But Hank was the man, the boss, the primo Kicker. Darryl had to find him.
"Okay. Let's go!"
Repressing a whimper of terror, he hurried across the hall in a crouch and into the recess of the stairway.
Made it.
With Menck close behind he ran up the first flight but stopped at the bottom of the second. A couple of guys lay sprawled on the stairs. Dead?
Then one of them said, "Darryl? That you?"
A Kicker. He hurried up to them. He didn't know their names, but knew they were hurt.
"Where's Hank?"
The guy jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Still looking."
Hank alive. Okay. Now to find him.
"How is it up there?"
"I think we got the floor to ourselves now. How's it downstairs?"
Don't ask, Darryl thought, but said, "Quiet. Hey, I'm gonna find Hank. You guys sit tight."
"Like we have a choice?"
He motioned Menck to follow him. They found dead Kickers at the top of the steps and dead monks in the smoky hall, but no sign of Hank. He coughed and looked around. Smoke was pouring from one of the doors down the hall.
"Hank?" he said softly. A little louder: "Hank?"
Someone stepped out of a door near the other end of the hall and waved them forward. By the time they got there, Hank and half a dozen other Kickers, including Jantz and his chainsaw—his very bloody chainsaw—were gathered outside the door, waiting.
"What's burning?" Hank was saying, waving at the smoke as they came up. He smiled at Darryl and Menck. "Hey, guys. We pretty much own the floor, but we need reinforcements."
Menck shook his head. "We're it, I'm afraid."
Hank's eyes widened. "What? What happened?"
Darryl gave him a quick rundown about the killer monks and the arrows and the hit men.
"Silencers?" Hank said.
"Yeah." Darryl looked around. "Where're the others?"
Hank looked at him. "Crazy fucking monks." He shook his head. "Shit."
"My sentiments exactly," Menck said. "This whole night has turned to shit. Let's get out of here."
Hank shook his head. "Only two more rooms to search. She's got to be in one of them."
He started across the hall with everyone following him. He kicked open a door, then stepped back.
"Finally!" he said.
Darryl looked over his shoulder and saw Dawn lying on the floor. Four candles burned around her, and on the floor before her lay a Japanese sword. Darryl couldn't tell if it was the sword because it was sheathed in a curved scabbard.
Hank checked behind the door through the hinge space before stepping in. He went straight to the sword and half pulled it from its scabbard. Darryl saw the moth-eaten metal and knew they'd found it.
"Bingo," Hank said.
He slammed it back into the scabbard and tossed it to Menck. He knelt next to Dawn and scooped her up in his arms, then hoisted her over his shoulder where she hung like a rag doll. When he turned to them, his face was grim.
"They better not have hurt this baby."
Or what? Darryl thought. They're all dead.
But he said nothing.
"We're going home," Hank said when he reached the hall—which was smokier than ever.
Darryl didn't know if he'd ever heard sweeter words. But they still had to get by the hit men.
Hank nodded to Jantz. "You and the others take point, see if we're clear ahead. Darryl—you and Menck cover the rear."
As Jantz and the rest moved off toward the staircase, Hank reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a pistol. He handed it to Darryl.
"Know how to use this?"