"They're shooting at the floorboards!" Estrada shouted in horror, scrambling away from where the floor trembled and cracked sharply beneath the impact of the bullets from the Pulajan fighters below.
A futile attempt. The floor wasn't made of bamboo, or even ordinary timber. I recognized the reddish-brown planks beneath us: Narra, a native hardwood prized for its density and durability. Dense enough to stop or deflect a bullet—at least for now. That was why I hadn't considered the same tactic when we were the ones attacking from below.
The real threat wasn't the floor. It was the only entry point in the room—the stairs. Teniente Medina and a couple of soldiers held the makeshift barricade at the landing. So far, they had held it well. The upturned desks, overturned chairs, and shelves that formed the barricade were all made from solid acacia or molave, providing reliable cover from gunfire.
But we couldn't hold this position forever.