Quickly, she knelt. Shed dealt with plenty of emergencies in the hospital, but there she had back up. Nurses and techs and other doctors. Plus all the equipment she could ever want or need. She was on her own here. She checked vitals, pressing her shaking fingers against his carotid. Okay good. A strong steady beat. He wasnt dead. Her own pounding heart slowed a little. Next she checked his neck. No fracture there, thank goodness.

So where was the blood coming from? She had to do something before he lost much more. That could be catastrophic.

She touched his shoulder. Sir? Can you talk? Can you tell me what happened?

He groaned in response.

Still unconscious. Okay. She wanted to get a sense of how severe the mans injuries were. She rolled him gently toward his side to assess what was going on. Blood covered the mans face. That explained it. He must have hit his head on the steps. Head wounds bled like crazy. He might not be too badly injured. It might look significantly worse than it actually was.

The mans eyes flew open, startlingly white in his blood-smeared face. He rolled the rest of the way over and grabbed her wrist with his left hand. She tried to pull loose, but his grip was unexpectedly strong. Then he sat up in one fluid motion and slashed at her with a knife hed been holding hidden beneath him in his right hand. She felt nothing for a second and then a stinging sensation across her abdomen told her shed been cut. She looked down to see blood soaking through her shirt.

What the hell? Lexa reared back and tried to stand at the same time. Her right foot hit the top stair at an angle and her ankle rolled. She windmilled her arms, trying to maintain her balance, but it was no good. In the next second, she toppled down the stairs, hitting concrete edges with her shoulder and hips. She wrapped her arms around her head, trying to protect it from the punishing steps.

Finally, she hit the landing below. A quick mental inventory told her she was banged up and bruised, but still okay. At the top of the landing, the man stared down at her, head cocked to one side as if evaluating the situation. The blood looked like a mask on his face. As she tried again to stand, he started toward her.

Who the hell was this guy? And why was he coming after her?

There was no time to consider the possibilities. She lurched to her feet, her ankle feeling unstable beneath her. There was no time to worry about what kind of damage she might be doing to her ligaments by running on an injured foot. She staggered down the next few steps.

Help! she screamed. Someone help!

Her voice echoed back to her, bouncing off the concrete around her. No one would hear her.