Maureen’s pretty face darted across Riley’s field of vision, pale as the moon, eyes wide and glassy with fright. Riley sympathized, but didn’t move from his position next to the bar. He wanted them to go out front, not into the back where they’d be trapped. The way his day was going, those soldiers would blow up the freezer and come in shooting.
Business Suit, in true gentlemanly fashion, elbowed the waitress aside to get to the exit first. He hit the door running and slammed the wings open so hard Riley was surprised the greasy glass panels didn’t break. Maureen stumbled, flailed, would’ve fallen if the cook hadn’t grabbed her around her generous hips and steadied her. They hurried along together, out of the diner and into the sunlight. The rest were right on their heels, feeding off each other’s fear, some quiet, some shouting, until all of them were mindlessly running for their lives.
They poured out of the diner in a throng of panicked people and Riley tucked his gun back under his jacket and joined them. The wind stirred up by the helicopters slapped his face, made him duck his head and push forward against the resistance. Though they were not quite as near as the one in the back, they looked vicious enough to scare the crap out of Riley as they loomed over the lot, black metal and glinting glass, rotor blades cutting through the air with a deafening, chilling relentlessness. So much more alien than the creature currently clutching Riley’s bones and evaluating the scene through his eyes.
The baby was howling now and the little girl lost her grip on her mother’s skirt and shrieked, terrified by the hulking, roaring things that had looked so cool from the safety of the diner and so intimidating up close.
It was blind instinct that made Riley veer off course toward the child.
He’d almost reached her when something hit his thigh like a fist. He staggered, more from shock than pain. The girl yelped then shut up
abruptly. She sat down on her plump behind with a thump and a hiccup, stared up at Riley with swimming, too-wide eyes. A bright line of red had appeared on her tiny arm, the skin gaping like a slack mouth. Blood was spilling out, flowed down the dangling limb and dripped to the dirty concrete. Riley’s stomach turned.
Sniper, McClane said, tightly. In the helicopter. Run.
Another smack, this time against his shoulder. The leather of Riley’s jacket ripped open as though it’d been sliced by an invisible knife. A flowerpot dangling from the awning in front of the nail and hair studio exploded in a shower of clay and earth. Riley barely felt the blow; just a tingle that traveled through his entire body. He didn’t have to check beneath the torn leather and fabric to know his skin was untouched. With a final glance at the girl who’d almost been killed by the first ricochet, Riley turned around and darted back into the diner, pulling the doors closed behind him.