OLIVER
The first sound I hear inside my house is a newborn’s cry.
My daughter.
I force the west service door open with my shoulder and shout Anny’s name. Ucker enters behind me while two officers move toward the damaged security panel.
Ramirez lies beside it.
Ucker drops to check his pulse. “He’s alive. Go.”
I run.
The hallway is littered with broken glass and abandoned equipment. Another guard is conscious near the north entrance, trying to direct police around the truck blocking the gate.
Then Anny screams from upstairs.
“He has her!”
I reach the staircase as Jack appears at the top.
He carries a thermal infant carrier. A masked woman follows with an oxygen cylinder and medical bag. Two men close around them, turning the stairs into a moving wall.
The pale green blanket slips
