Free Night of the Living Trekkies by Kevin David Anderson, Sam Stall, Kevin David, Sam Stall Anderson

attack.
    He knelt down beside her. “Are you all right?”
    Janice pushed him away. “I just need a few minutes. “When she finally looked up again, she examined the surrounding desks as if searching for a good place to hide.
    “We don’t have time for this,” Jim said, forcing his arm around her waist and helping her to her feet. “Can you walk?”
    “I’m fine,” she insisted.
    But he kept his arm around her waist, anyway. Her footsteps were slow and unsteady. As though she was quite literally buckling beneath the pressure.
    Dexter’s office was a rat’s nest of forms, paperwork, and Dallas Cowboys memorabilia, but it also contained a few items that Jim desperately wanted. He found them sitting in a case—a case that, to his great relief, someone had opened and left unlocked.
    Inside were two exotic-looking weapons. Their black-and-yellow color scheme made them look like gigantic bumblebees.
    But with a much worse sting
, Jim thought as he scooped them up.
    “What are those?” Janice asked.
    “Taser X3s,” Jim explained. “The latest and greatest in less-than-lethal ordnance.” Dexter had bragged about their capabilities on numerous occasions; they had laser sights, built-in LED flashlights, and a triple-shot capacity so that the user could fry three different people simultaneously. Jim considered showing Janice how the X3s worked and then maybe giving her one. But the flustered look in her eyes told him that wasn’t an option. In her present state, Janice might even decide to taser
him
.
    Jim located an empty black backpack and stuffed one of the weapons inside. The other he placed in a holster and latched to his belt. Then he found the black, circular Squad Charger that recharged the guns’ battery packs. It held six fully topped-off power magazines. Jim slid one into his personal weapon and put the rest into the backpack. He noticed the toy phaser sitting on Dexter’s desk and decided to grab it, too. Anything even resembling a weapon seemed comforting now.
    “This feels like a dream,” Janice said. “Can we go now?”
    “One last thing,” Jim said.
    He went to the desk, opened the bottom drawer, and reached all the way to the back to the place where Dexter—in flagrant violation of hotel regulations—hid a 9mm Glock 17 pistol.
    Usually, that is. But tonight all Jim found after an increasingly frantic search was a spare 17-round magazine, which he stuffed into his backpack.
    “When was the last time you saw Dexter?” Jim asked.
    “A few hours ago. There was a disturbance on the third floor, but he never came back.”
    “What time was that?”
    “Just after five, I think.”
    Jim checked his watch. It was eight thirty, which meant Dexter had been out of contact for three hours and change. Maybe—hope-fully—he was incapacitated somewhere. The alternative was too horrible to consider.
    “Dexter, can you hear me?” he said into his walkie-talkie. “Are you okay?”
    He tried twice more, and then put out a general call for someone, anyone, to respond.
    There were no replies.
    Jim closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. He had to get upstairs and find Rayna. He needed to see if perhaps, just perhaps, Dexter was still around. And then together they would set up a defensive perimeter and figure out a plan.
    He offered a silent prayer that things wouldn’t get any worse. A prayer that was immediately and decisively rebuffed.
    “What’s that noise?” Janice asked.
    It was coming from the lobby. Someone was pounding on the doors. Pounding so hard that they rattled.
    He glanced over at Janice. Her face had gone pale and her pupils were dilated. Her reason was now in full retreat, routed by the din in the lobby. There was no way to bring her along, not unless he was willing to carry her.
    “Janice, I need you to do me a favor,” Jim said calmly.
    She nodded ever so slowly.
    “I want you to lock this door when I leave and wait for me. Don’t go out front, don’t wander around. Just sit