Chapter 3 - THE BLOOD ON THE ALTAR
Viral Title: He Aimed The Gun At The Maid. But He Didn't Know Who WAS REALLY IN THE COFFIN!
Victor raised his silenced pistol, aiming it directly at Maya’s forehead. "Move, girl."
"Never," Maya said through clenched teeth.
"Have it your way."
POF.
The silenced shot echoed, but Maya dropped instantly to the floor, rolling toward the base of the altar. The bullet splintered the wooden cross behind where she had been standing.
As Maya hit the ground, her hand slammed into the hidden red button hidden beneath the decorative molding of the pulpit.
Instantly, the chapel’s industrial fire suppression system roared to life. High-pressure sprinklers showered thousands of gallons of freezing water down upon the crowd. The ambient lights short-circuited, plunging the entire room into total, chaotic darkness, illuminated only by the rhythmic strobing of red emergency fire lights.
"Find them!" Arthur roared over the sound of screaming guests and cascading water. "Don't let them reach the emergency exit!"
In the crimson strobing light, Maya grabbed Clara’s arm. "Can you walk?"
"I... I can try," Clara sobbed, her legs trembling like jelly from the lingering neurotoxin.
Maya hauled Clara over her shoulders and slunk into the shadow of the heavy velvet draperies along the side walls. Gunshots shattered the air as Victor and the other guards fired blindly into the dark, chaotic crowd. Guests were trampling one another, screaming in agony as panic took total control.
"In here!" Maya whispered, shoving Clara into a small, concealed utility closet behind the organ pipes.
Clara collapsed against the wall, hyperventilating. "Maya... why did you do this? Why did you risk your life for me? You were just hired three weeks ago..."
Maya wiped water and tears from her face, looking into Clara’s eyes. The strobing red light caught a small silver locket around Maya’s neck.
"Because I didn't take this job by accident, Clara," Maya said softly, her voice trembling. "Look at me. Look closely at my face."
Clara squinted through the dim light, studying the shape of Maya’s nose, the deep green of her eyes. Suddenly, Clara’s breath caught in her throat. Her hand flew to her mouth.
"No..." Clara whispered. "It... it can't be."
"Fifteen years ago, you gave up a baby girl at a private clinic in Chicago before you married Arthur Sterling," Maya said, tears streaming down her face, mixing with the sprinkler water. "You were told she died of respiratory failure."
Clara began to weep hysterically. "They... they told me my baby was born stillborn! Arthur's father arranged the adoption..."
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"They lied to you so Arthur could marry you without a scandal," Maya said, pulling open the locket to reveal a faded newborn photo that matched a birthmark on Clara's shoulder. "I'm your daughter, Clara. And I came here to find you... only to realize he was trying to kill you."
The utility closet door was suddenly kicked off its hinges with a violent crash.
