Riot

Heavy footsteps thundered outside the bedroom floor as Henry descended the narrow steel staircase leading into the bunker while the hatch above him sealed close with a hiss. His pulse hammered in his ears as panic set in.

Forcing himself to breathe steadily, he strode into a small room used for surveillance, pressed the remote on his keychain and a monitor lined on the wall came on. It displayed the activities happening in his apartment at that moment.

Five sturdy men dressed in black t-shirts and cargo pants with boots marched through the apartment with precision like they were professionals or members of a private army and not burglars. Each of them carried pistols with silencers, searching the rooms like they had been in his apartment before.

He gulped, glancing at the emergency supplies stacked in a corner of the room and a secure satellite phone on a desk beside him. He grabbed the phone and started to dial numbers. The sound of smashing the wardrobe in his bedroom pulled his attention back to the screen.

Within seconds of taking his eyes off the monitor, his luxurious apartment looked as though a riot had swept through it. His paintings were torn from the wall, drawers emptied and shattered glass sprinkled the floor like sand.

He dialled a number he knew by heart fast and his father picked on the second ring. “Someone had better be dying if you are calling at this indecent hour,” Victor growled, his voice deep and sleepy.

“Dad, don't interrupt,” Henry said with rushed breath. “Marcus has been kidnapped. By Albanians and they are in my apartment right now. I'm in the bunker.”

Victor was silent for a moment, taking in the summarised information while his brain calculated the best way to tackle the matter. At eighty-six, he wasn't a stranger to violence but he had hoped the choices he’d made over the years would give his family some form of peace. Something must be wrong somewhere, he thought.

“Tell me more,” he said with surprising calm.

Henry exhaled. “They took him and are trying to force him to sign over the company to them. Somehow, they found me.”

“You are safe inside the bunker.”

“You sound confident, Dad….I think they just found the hatch line beside the bed,” he said, his gaze fixed on the monitor, watching the men run their fingers across the hardwood floor where the hatch opens from.

“Listen carefully,” Victor instructed, anger lacing his voice. “There’s an exit behind the supply shelves which leads to the subway tunnel. Find it and get out. I'll have my men waiting for you.”

“Dad—”

“Get moving, Henry. We have to save your brother.”

The line went dead just as the men tapped on the hatch. He dropped the satellite phone into a small backpack and headed to the supply shelves. It was time to save Marcus.

[To be continued]

I hope you enjoyed reading this short piece. It's inspired by the Freewrite #dailyprompt phrase "riot”.

Thank you for visiting my blog.

^{_{Image created by AI using NightCafe Studio}}