There was a whining noise, and the glass door to her right exploded. Misch screamed again, throwing her hands up. She stared at the door – or where the door used to be – and tried to figure out what had happened. But before she could turn back to Tal, the other glass door exploded. Then a window.
Shot. That glass is being shot out.
The realization had just barely occurred to her when all hell broke loose. She screamed and ducked as an ungodly amount of gunfire was unleashed on the front of the building.
She wasn't sure how long she was down there before someone was grabbing her. Tal was at her side, all but picking her up. He dragged her to the car and stuffed her in the back seat before he got back behind the wheel. The car peeled out as he shot off down the street.
“Are you okay!?” he was shouting. There was a pinging sound, and Misch realized the car was being shot at.
“NO I'M NOT FUCKING OKAY!” she screamed at him, folding herself to sit on the floor between the front seat and back seat.
“I meant, are you hurt? Did you get hit!?” he demanded, stretching an arm between the seats and reaching for her. She slapped his hand away.
“No! No! We're getting shot at!” she kept shrieking.
“Don't worry, the car is bullet proof.”
“WHY THE FUCK IS YOUR CAR BULLET PROOF!?”
Tal didn't answer anymore questions, no matter how much she screamed. The car raced along, and she was pretty sure they were air born at one point. She hugged the chair in front of her, screaming and praying for it to end.
What is going on!? How did I go from making out to getting shot at!?
They drove at breakneck speeds for about ten minutes. Then they broke away from the city. From her position on the floor, Misch could see the tops of trees out the window. But she still refused to get up. Not even when the car came to a stop. Not even when Tal told her it was safe. Not even when he got out and came around to her side, opening the door for her.
“C'mon, Mischa, you've gotta help a little,” he grumbled, curling his arms under her own and yanking.
She still didn't budge.
He finally managed to wrestle her out of the back seat, and he carried her away from the car. She could hear gravel crunching under his feet. Then she was jostled around as he used one of his hands. A minute later, and they were inside a building. She finally opened her eyes, but couldn't see anything.
“Where are we?” she asked, nervous that they were in the dark.
“My place.”
The lights came on and Misch glanced around. They were in a house. There were large, mismatched rugs everywhere, and everything was open. In front of them was a spacious, sunken living room, then steps up to a raised, exposed bedroom. Next to it was another room, but it was dark, and to their left was a kitchen that looked like it had been transported straight out of the 1980's.
This can't be anywhere but his home.
“Put me down,” she grumbled, shoving at his chest.
When she was on her own two feet, she realized she was missing a shoe. She kicked her remaining one off, then moved down into his living room. There were two sofas stretching away from each other, and an end table between them. No chairs, no coffee tables. Just rugs.
“I'm sorry it's messy,” he said from behind her.
Mischa slowly turned around to face him, holding her hands up. He stared back, his arms crossed. She was at a loss. They had been making out. They had gotten shot at. They were standing in his house.
“What THE FUCK is going on, Tal!?” she demanded.
“You need to relax. Go lay down, and I'll get you something to -,”
“I DON'T WANT TO FUCKING LAY DOWN, I WANT SOME GODDAMN ANSWERS!”
There was almost a wrestling style smack down, but Tal got her onto the bed. She stayed on top of the covers, curled against his pillows, while he went over to his kitchen. She glared at him when he came back, but she took the mug he was handing to her. When she sipped at the liquid, she coughed and almost spit it out.
“Beer!?” she exclaimed.
“Sorry, it was that or tea. I didn't want to boil water.”
She chugged down the rest of what was in the mug.
“Alright. I'm relaxed. I'm chill as fuck. Now tell me, please, what happened?” she panted, wiping beer off of her chin. Tal took a deep breath and rubbed his hands over his face.
“That was a terrorist attack,” he said in a simple voice, like he was explaining why the bus system was running late.
“I'm sorry. I'm kind of stupid. You'll have to be a little more specific. A what?” she asked.
“Dirty deals and trades have been going on, arms getting shipped through Syria, where they go mostly unnoticed because of the unrest going on over there. Guns, rocket launchers, ammo, all kinds of stuff, including information, has been flowing. But it's kinda like a phone line, you know? Turkey starts making calls to terrorists in Syria, and it was only a matter of time before they started calling back. Now al Qaeda and even ISIS groups are popping up. Sometimes, shit goes down,” Tal explained.
Mischa was aghast. Of course, she knew about the trouble in Syria, but she'd been assured that Istanbul was well away from it. That she would be safe. There had been no “hey, you might potentially get gunned down while walking to work” clause in the paperwork she'd signed before agreeing to travel for her job.
“My office building was shot up … by terrorists …,” she couldn't even voice her thoughts properly. Probably because she couldn't think properly, period.