The sound of breaking glass shattered the silence.
"Get down!" Arthur shouted.
He grabbed Clara by the waist and pulled her behind the heavy wooden sofa just as a second shot tore through the window.
Dr. Whitmore dropped beside Edward, shielding him with his own body.
"Father!" Clara cried.
"I'm all right!" Edward answered, though his voice sounded strained. "Clara, stay down!"
Another shot struck the wall.
Arthur drew his phone and quickly checked the screen. "No signal."
"They must have blocked the network," Daniel Mercer said. He was already moving toward the hallway. "This house has an old service exit. We can get out through the cellar."
Clara looked at her father. His face had gone pale, and one hand was pressed against his chest.
"Can he walk?"
"Not without assistance," Dr. Whitmore replied. "His condition is still fragile."
"Then we don't waste another second."
Arthur glanced at her. "Clara, I'll cover the rear."
