Warhol's Prophecy

113

HE SWEPT THE sub-machine-gun back and forth, firing quick bursts. The muzzle flash left a searing white imprint on Hailey’s retina. The sound of the weapon filled her ears as she tried to crawl away.

The noise was absolutely deafening, and Hailey feared for a second that her eardrums had been ruptured by the savage sound-blasts.

Spent cartridges rained down like brass confetti, some landing on the marble floor.

The stink of cordite stung her nostrils.

Through a haze of pain she saw the appalling results of those first few bursts of firing.

Bullets had thudded into wood, glass and flesh alike. Chunks were blasted from tables. Crystal was shattered by the heavy-grain slugs. Some of the windows at the rear of the ballroom were hit, holes punched through them as if by invisible fists.

Hailey saw two men being shot. One pitched backwards over a table, blood spouting from a wound in his throat. The other collapsed onto a pure white tablecloth, crimson spilling out around his upper body.

Screams began to fill the air.

Walker calmly slammed a fresh magazine into the MP5, and opened up again.

Apart from one exit door to the rear, there was only one way in and out of the ballroom – and he was blocking it. Standing there like some murderous sentinel, pouring fire into those before him.

His face was expressionless, only creased occasionally by the effort of changing magazines – something he did with chilling efficiency.

A woman in her forties took a bullet in the back. It smashed her right scapula and burst from her chest. As she tried to rise, to continue her escape, another slug tore off the left side of her face.

The man with her hesitated a moment, realized he could do nothing to help, and turned to flee. But two more shots cut through his spine, and sent him toppling over a table.

Walker muttered under his breath as the hammer slammed down on an empty chamber. He gently laid the sub-machine-gun down for a moment, and gripped the Steyr in both hands.

The slide flew back as each shot was squeezed off.

Very few missed a target.

Hailey was murmuring something under her breath, her lips moving silently as she crawled across the floor, touching one hand to her forehead. When she pulled it away, she saw blood.

She had to get out of here.

Get help.

Find Becky and Rob.

If they were still alive?

Walker put the Steyr aside, slammed a fresh magazine into the MP5, then pulled the Scorpion from the case, too.

Holding one in each hand, he advanced towards the other terrified people in the ballroom.

Above him, the chandelier that dominated the room looked like thousands of frozen tears.

He raked the ceiling with fire from the Scorpion, and stood watching as the massive crystal construction wavered, then came loose.

It struck the floor with a deafening crash, pieces of glass flying in all directions like gleaming shrapnel.

Those crammed into the one doorway, trying to get out, now redoubled their efforts – those at the back of the crush aware that Walker was no more than twenty yards from them.

He saw James Marsh. Looked directly into his eyes.

Walker shot him.

Dotted lines of death appeared across Marsh’s chest and abdomen as the bullets hit him, a number of them exiting from his back, carrying pinkish-red lung tissue with them. It spattered those who stood behind him.

Walker stepped over the corpse and shot down three more people.

The room was not acoustically suited to such thunderous noise, and each fresh explosion of gunfire reverberated off the walls and ceiling, deafening those who were about to die.

Walker emptied a magazine into the terrified crowd that clogged the doorway.

Many of the bodies remained upright because of the crush. Others toppled backwards, or sideways, like bloodied mannequins.

More of the windows were blasted out by bullets, the sound of crashing glass now mingling with the staccato rattle of the submachine-guns and the shrieks of pain and fear.

Hailey managed to rise to her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks.

From her position behind an overturned table, she could see Walker spraying the rest of the terrified guests with bullets. Saw them falling in untidy heaps. Others were trying to escape through the broken windows. She saw one man even punching glass out of a smashed frame, trying to pull himself through to safety.

Walker shot him in the head and back.

She looked towards him, then at the door behind her.

Could she make it?

He fired off another burst.

Hailey saw him stop to reload.

Now, run! Go now, for God’s sake!

She got to her feet and hurtled for the doors that led out into the foyer.

Walker chambered a round and prepared to fire again.

Hailey was inches from the door when he spotted her.