Chapter 16
Mark’s knees gave out, and he hit the ground. His ears were ringing, a pressure wave having smacked the side of his head. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his hands to his ears, feeling thudding from below the floor—yelling, pounding, footsteps. There was another gunshot. Where was his flashlight? He felt around for it on his hands and knees. Was he shot?
He grabbed the flashlight as he pulled in a breath that echoed long and loud in his ears. He stumbled to his feet, taking in the shotgun on the floor, and shone the light toward the back door, where Tolly Shephard stood in the doorway. Mark had his gun in his other hand now, and he staggered a bit, bumping the wall as he widened his jaw to try to relieve the pressure. He slapped his ear, still holding the flashlight.
“C
