Free The Outsider (James Bishop 4) by Jason Dean Page B

for her, Bishop silently bid her goodbye and rolled onto his stomach and began crawling down the aisle towards the bedrooms. Staying as low as possible, since people generally aimed high, even in combat situations. The shelves on either side gave him some protection, but not much. They looked ready to collapse at any second. The noise was relentless. It was like being in a busy lumberyard. Wood splinters flew in the air around him like angry insects. Bullets punched through the outer walls and ricocheted off the interior walls and fixtures. More glass shattered. There was gun smoke everywhere. The whole place was being torn apart.
    Bishop made it to the end of the shelves and looked to his left. The pool table had lost two of its legs at one end and was lying at a tilt. A marshal lay on his back next to the table, with one leg was folded under him and his entire upper body drenched in blood. Looked like Hammond. Bishop looked to his right and saw the Stricklands’ door was shut. With any luck they were both in there right now. And getting them out alive was all that mattered.
    Slumped right next to their door was another marshal. Lomax. Hard to see where he’d been hit, but his whole right arm was covered in blood, although he was still gripping his Glock. In his left hand, he was holding a cell phone and trying to press numbers on the keypad. He looked barely conscious.
    Using his elbows and knees, Bishop quickly crawled over to him. Bullets pinged all around him. The noise was just as deafening as before. He needed to get the Stricklands out, fast. Because the enemy would sure as hell be coming in. They’d want to make sure nobody was left breathing. And they’d do it soon, once they felt they’d lessened the odds enough. Bishop figured about thirty seconds had passed since he jumped out of the bus. No way of knowing how long he had left. But already an idea was forming in his mind.
    He reached Lomax. ‘ The principals ,’ he yelled over the noise of gunfire. ‘ They still inside? ’
    Lomax turned and blinked at him. Bishop saw part of his left ear was missing, and blood ran freely down his neck. Bishop couldn’t see where else he’d been hit, but he looked in bad shape. ‘You bastard,’ he said in a slurred voice. ‘You bast …’ He slowly started to lift the hand holding the gun.
    Bishop took the Glock from his weak grip. ‘Don’t be stupid,’ he said. ‘Focus. The Stricklands. Are they inside? Who’s with them? Talk .’
    Lomax ignored him and kept pressing buttons on his phone. ‘Gotta get through somehow. Gotta tell them …’
    ‘ Shit .’ Bishop checked the Glock’s magazine. It was empty. He dropped it at Lomax’s feet and raised himself to a crouch. He tried the door handle, but it wouldn’t turn. Locked from the inside. He pounded on the door with his fists. ‘ Strickland. It’s Bishop. Open this door .’
    He kept pounding on it as he looked to his left. Stray rounds hit the frame by his head and he ducked as slivers of wood flew in front his face.
    Somebody yanked the door open. Bishop immediately dived inside and slammed it shut behind him.
    ‘ Jesus Christ.’ Strickland was on his hands and knees, staring wildly at Bishop. ‘ What do we do? ’
    Bishop saw they were under siege in here, too. Barney was on the floor by his overturned bed, frantically pulling on his jeans. The shooters in the backyard were really pouring it on. A continuous stream of bullets rat-a-tatted against the exterior of the house like a never-ending drum roll. Sounded like at least three automatic weapons. Probably more. In the enclosed space, the barrage was almost deafening. Stray rounds flew over their heads, but the four-foot-high shield was holding. For now.
    ‘ What do we do now ?’ Strickland yelled again.
    ‘I’m getting you both out of here,’ Bishop said.
    ‘And how the hell you gonna do that?’
    Bishop saw the spare fibreglass corner plate lying on the floor next to the TV. Right now, it