Gunshots. The guns are using silencers, but nothing can quiet the deafening bang of a machine gun going off.

Immediately, there are screams and answering gunfire. Un-silenced this time. The soldiers stationed on the floor must be responding to whatever threat is out there.

In a millisecond, I’m off the bed, the laptop sliding to the floor. Adrenaline rockets through me, speeding up everything and at the same time slowing my perception of time. It feels like things are happening in slow motion, but I know that it’s just an illusion—that it’s my brain’s attempt to deal with intense danger.

I operate on instinct honed by a lifetime of training. In an instant, I assess the room and see that there’s no place to hide. The window on the opposite wall is too small for me to fit through, even if I were inclined to risk falling from the third floor. That leaves only the door and the hallway—which is where the gunshots are coming from.

I don’t bother trying to figure out who’s attacking. It’s immaterial at the moment. The only thing that matters is survival.

More gunfire, followed by a scream right outside. I hear the heavy thump of a body falling nearby, and I choose that moment to make my move.

Pushing open the door, I dive in the direction of the thumping sound, using the momentum of the dive to slide on the linoleum floor. My cast knocks against the wall as I bump into the dead soldier, but I don’t even register the pain. Instead I pull him over me, using his body as a shield as bullets begin flying all around me. Spotting his weapon on the floor, I grasp it with my right hand and begin firing shots into the other end of the hallway, where I see masked men with guns crouched behind a hospital gurney.

Too many. I can already see that. There are too fucking many of them and not enough bullets in my gun. I can see the bodies littering the hallway—the five Uzbekistani soldiers have been mowed down, as well as a few of the masked attackers—and I know it’s futile. They will get me too. In fact, it’s surprising that I’m not already riddled with holes, human shield or not.

They don’t want to kill me.

I realize that fact just as my gun bucks one last time, discharging the last round of bullets. The floor and walls around me are destroyed from their bullets, but I’m unscathed. Since I don’t believe in miracles, that means the attackers are not aiming at me.

They’re aiming all around me, to keep me contained in one spot.

Rolling the dead man off me, I slowly get to my feet, keeping my gaze trained on the armed figures at the far end of the hallway. The gunfire stops as I begin to move, the silence deafening after all the noise.

“What do you want?” I raise my voice just enough to be heard on the other end of the hallway. “Why are you here?”