We made it less than thirty yards before a gunshot struck the wall beside me.Concrete sprayed across my arm. Calvin grabbed me and pulled me behind a support pillar as a second round hit the edge, sending chips across his jacket.I dropped beside him, my injured shoulder protesting hard enough to loosen my grip on the flashlight. The man we had left restrained above us was unarmed. Someone else was waiting down here.“Both shots came from ahead,” Calvin said, looking past the pillar.“One shooter?”“Could be more.”Farther down the corridor, a truck engine growled, then faded deeper beneath the island. They were getting away.Fresh tire tracks crossed the wet concrete, following the same route from the freight lift. Whoever was shooting wasn’t advancing. They were keeping us pinned while the convoy gained distance.Calvin studied the corridor. Concrete support pillars divided the old military passage, with rusted equipment and wooden crates filling the spaces between them. He pointed
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