The heavy door was secured with a padlock. Trina shut it off and pulled the door open. The blast of frigid air carried the sounds of whimpering and quiet sobs. 12 girls huddled together on the frozen floor, dressed in thin clothes. The youngest couldn't have been more than 10.
Their eyes were wide with terror as Trina entered. I'm FBI, she said softly, showing her badge. I'm getting you all out of here. Can you walk? They nodded, helping each other stand on trembling legs.
Trina guided them through the smoke-filled corridors toward the loading dock where her truck waited. The trailer was equipped with emergency supplies, blankets, water, food, and first aid kits. Stay quiet and stay together, she instructed as she helped them climb inside. Lock this from the inside. Don't open it for anyone but me.
I'll knock three times, pause, then twice more. Understand? They nodded, wrapping themselves in blankets. Trina secured the trailer and headed back inside. On a security monitor near the loading dock, she spotted Faulner in what looked like a central office, barking orders into a radio.
Suddenly, gunfire erupted from multiple directions. Four men in tactical gear appeared at both ends of the corridor, rifles raised. Trina dove behind a concrete pillar as bullets chipped away at the edges. "You're dead, Fed!" one shouted. "No way out!"
Trina touched her wounded side, feeling fresh blood. She'd lost too much already, but giving up wasn't an option. She pulled her last smoke grenade and threw it, using the cover to sprint toward a side passage. A rifle stock swung at her head. She ducked, grabbing the weapon and driving her knee into the attacker's groin.
As he doubled over, she wrenched the rifle away and slammed the butt into his face. He went down hard. The second man charged, trying to tackle her. Trina sidestepped, using his momentum to throw him into a wall. His head crashed through a rusted pipe, releasing a spray of pressurized steam.
He screamed, clutching his scalded face. More bullets forced her into a roll. Pain exploded in her leg as a round grazed her thigh. She came up firing, catching the third attacker in the shoulder. He dropped his weapon, stumbling backward.
The fourth man had a clear shot. Trina threw herself sideways as his rifle barked. The bullet missed her head by inches. She crashed through a rotting drywall partition, buying precious seconds. Her hands found a length of broken pipe.
When he stepped through the hole after her, she swung it like a baseball bat, connecting with his temple. He crumpled without a sound. Steam continued spraying from the ruptured pipe, filling the corridor with scalding mist. Somewhere in the distance, flames began to lick at exposed insulation. The fire would spread quickly through the old building.