The lift door opens. Derek is sitting in his electric wheelchair and pointing a Swazi hand laser at one of the guards. Its sleek design is unmistakable; it has the power to disintegrate those in front of it. “I’m here for you Maeve.”
His hand motions for the two guards to get out. They look at each other in disbelief before raising their hands and exiting. A guard tosses the keys of the handcuffs to Maeve, who takes them off.
Derek reverses into the lift, all the time keeping them in his sights, “It’s nothing personal. Now run!”
They turn and sprint away as the lift door closes.
Maeve hugs him, “What now?”
“Press Floor 7, we don’t have much time.”
An alarm blares as the lift rises. The lift door opens, revealing a long, white corridor. “Maeve, you need to sprint. The wheelchair will keep up with you. Now, run.”
Sure enough, he kept by her side. The sound of people shouting comes from behind.
“I’m putting the wheelchair on auto. Keep going as fast as you can, Maeve.”
She looks over to see his seat turning around to the other side of the direction he is travelling in. He opens fire.
Mark's Writing Corner 