The Service Elevator

Mei ran.

She burst through the pantry, the smell of dry rice and spices hitting her nose, jarringly domestic in the chaos. She hit the call button for the service elevator.

The light flickered green. *Thank God.*

Behind her, in the nursery, gunfire erupted. She heard Han shouting—a guttural roar of defiance. She heard the sound of wood splintering.

"Come on, come on," Mei prayed, rocking Leo, who was screaming against her shoulder. "Shh, baby. Shh."

The elevator doors groaned open.

Mei stepped inside. It was a metal cage, utilitarian and cold. She hit the button for the garage.

Footsteps pounded on the tile of the pantry.

Han appeared in the doorway. He was limping badly now, dragging his left leg. His gun was empty; the slide was locked back. He had thrown it aside. He was holding a kitchen knife he must have grabbed from the counter.

"Han!" Mei cried, reaching out to hold the door open.

Han lunged for the elevator. He stumbled, falling to one knee just inside the threshold. He coughed, blood spattering the metal floor.

"Close it," Han wheezed, looking up at her. "Mei, close the door."

"No! Get up!" Mei crouched, trying to pull him in by his shirt collar.

Han looked at her. The anger was gone. The grumpiness was gone. There was only a profound, crushing regret. He reached up, his hand hovering over the 'Close Door' button.

But before he could press it, a shadow fell over them.

At the end of the pantry hallway, a man in black gear stood calm and still. He raised a pistol. He wasn't aiming at Han. Han was on the floor, out of the line of fire.

He was aiming at the only thing standing: Mei, holding the heir to the Zhao empire.

Mei saw the laser sight dance across the elevator wall. She saw it settle on the blanket wrapping Leo.

Time didn't slow down. It snapped.

Han saw it too. He screamed, "NO!" and tried to push himself up, to throw his body in front of them, but his legs failed him. He was too slow.

Mei wasn't.

She didn't think about her lack of papers. She didn't think about the family she never had. She didn't think about the man on the floor who had been too afraid to love her.

She pivoted. She turned her back to the gunman, curling her body around Leo, shielding the baby with her spine, her heart, her life.

* CRACK.*

The sound was deafening in the small metal box.

Mei felt a punch to the center of her back. It didn't hurt at first. It just felt like the air had been stolen from the room. Her knees buckled.

She fell forward, collapsing onto the floor of the elevator, curling around the bundle in her arms.

Han roared. It was a sound not human, a sound of pure, animalistic devastation.

Adrenaline surged through his broken body. He launched himself from the floor, not at the gunman, but at the door panel. He slammed his fist into the 'Close' button.

The gunman fired again, the bullet pinging off the closing doors.

The metal slabs slammed shut. The elevator jerked downward.

Silence returned, broken only by the hum of the motor and Leo’s cries.

Han scrambled over to Mei.

"Mei," Han choked out. "Mei, look at me."

She was lying on her side. The back of her cardigan was soaked dark and wet. Her breath was coming in shallow, bubbling gasps.

Han rolled her gently. Her eyes were open, staring up at the fluorescent light of the elevator ceiling. She was clutching Leo so tight her knuckles were white.

"The baby," Mei whispered. A trickle of blood escaped the corner of her mouth.

Han checked Leo. The baby was crying, red-faced, terrified. But he was whole. There was no blood on him but Mei’s.

"He's safe," Han sobbed, pressing his hands against the wound in Mei’s chest, trying desperately to keep the life inside her. "He's safe, Mei. You saved him."

Mei smiled. It was a small, weak thing. Her eyes drifted from the ceiling to Han’s face.

"You're always... so angry," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the elevator.

"I know," Han wept, tears mixing with the blood on his face. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Mei. Stay with me. We're almost at the garage. I'll get you a doctor. I'll get you anything you want."

Mei reached up. Her hand, cold and stained with red, touched his cheek. She brushed the tears away with her thumb.

"Don't be... angry," she breathed. "Be... a father."

Her hand slipped from his face. It hit the metal floor with a soft thud.

Her chest stopped moving.

The elevator dinged. *Level B1.*

The doors slid open to the safety of the garage. The getaway car was waiting. Escape was right there.

But Han didn't move.

He sat on the dirty metal floor of the service elevator, holding his crying son in one arm and the body of the woman he had kept at arm's length in the other. He rocked them both back and forth, wailing into the silence of the underground, realizing that the walls he had built to protect his heart had done nothing but ensure he was the only one left to break.