Frigid Revenge: Day 8

Word Count: 48,044

Summary of Events:

Oakley, and everyone else in the hotel near to one of the security cameras their captor had installed, took down the camera nearest him and stomped it to pieces. Charlie observed their captor as she stood in the breakfast line; she felt nervous when he announced his reaction to their destruction of the cameras. Oakley brought Charlie to his room to talk about things, being as he'd learned she was behind organising everyone to destroy the cameras and wanted to know her thoughts, which he found rather interesting.

Excerpt of the Day:

""Would you agree, then, that if we all rally around and jump him at once — or, at least, like, a good dozen of us do — and disarm him, that we could get him to diffuse at least one bomb and let us out?" Oakley asked.

"Why wouldn't he?" Charlie asked.

"Your coach seems to think that our captor is a man of extremes," Oakley replied. "It either ends with him getting all his demands met to the letter and everyone goes free largely unmolested, or we all go down with him instead of him being handed over to the police."

"Which would mean?" Charlie asked.

"He wouldn't diffuse the bomb even though we have the gun on him," Oakley replied. "He'd make one go off to trigger the elevator and level the whole place."

"There is an alternate plan," Charlie said.

"Which is?" Oakley asked.

"We communicate with the police to bring a ladder or ladder-truck and we break a window up here so they can get in," Charlie replied. "Then the bomb squad can diffuse the bombs and the police can take him down."

Oakley gathered his lips and thought for a moment. "I'd say there's some chanciness in that."

"Such as?" Charlie asked.

"Would he necessarily be oblivious to a ladder or ladder-truck?" Oakley asked. "And would they be able to find out how to deal with the elevator in time to keep themselves from being annihilated with us should he find out and trigger a door bomb to knock this whole place down?"

"Unless we only signalled them after we had him down," Charlie said. "Something of a hybrid plan."

"That would work," Oakley said. "The thing is, we need to get that gun out of his hands, which is proving to be almost impossible."

"That's because you're doing it alone," Charlie said.

"Well then we–"

Oakley stopped short at the sound of a loud crack. Two more sounded.

Swearing, Oakley shoved Sabrina off his lap and bolted for the door. Someone was being shot at.

Out in the hallway he found no one. He thundered up the stairs to the next floor, even though the gunfire had stopped.

Nothing in that hallway. He went up to the next floor. Nothing there either. 

On the top floor he found what he'd been looking for, but not been wanting to find. He hauled the door open and rushed over.

Blood discoloured the carpet and clothes of the unmoving figure. Two shots had made connection, one in the thigh, one in the back of the head. There was no use checking for a pulse.

Oakley swore. It wasn't him — and the way Charlie was talking it wasn't likely to be him — but it was someone. Their captor was serious about using his gun to kill. Oakley hated the thought of what effect this would have on those who'd just been emboldened by their part in the camera destruction last night."