Here's a tidbit from my work in progress.
Sheena took the stairs two at a time, grabbed Salem, and frantically searched for the door to the safe room. Her hands shook so badly she almost dropped Salem when she located the seam. Clutching her wriggling cat, she used her shoulder to push the door open. Shaking and gasping for breath, she secured the door. Her heart hammered in her ears like thunder. Once safe, she dropped to the bed and wiped the tears from her eyes. She finally released Salem when he yowled his annoyance of her iron grip.
Sitting didn’t last long. She paced up and down the small space. Tilting her head, she listened hard but hear nothing. Was Bast injured? Where were Terry and Steve? Had they come back to help him? Thoughts and fears swirled like a whirlwind in her mind. She needed a weapon just in case the impossible happened, and Moretti got through the door. Avoiding Salem’s swishing tail, she scoured the tiny space. The best she had was a steak knife. It would have to do. Armed with a blade, she turned the monitor on and stared at empty space on the other side of the door.
She straightened when Rick walking to the door and tapped. “Sheena? You in there?”
“Yeah,” she said as quietly as possible but still loud enough for him to hear. “Bast needs help down stairs.”
Without another word, he glanced at the camera and left the room.
Minutes felt like hours. She checked the time and frowned. It had only been five minutes since she locked herself in. She knew this because there was a timer on the wall. Whoever put that there was a sadist.
What was that? Sheena pressed her ear to the door.
Squeak. Screech. Whoosh.
Her entire body stiffened, and she stepped back. It sounded like what she’d heard when she opened the window last night. The wood had swollen from the humidity and protested loudly when she forced it to move. Her gaze shot back to the monitor as a head, covered in a ski mask appeared. Someone was opening her window! Her whole body tensed. She pressed a hand to her chest as a vise gripped her lungs and squeezed.
A thin body in tight black clothing from head to toe followed the head and slid to the floor. A man or a boy? She couldn’t tell. It could be either, but she doubted Moretti would send a child to do a man’s job.
He stood motionless for a moment, scanning the room. Slowly, he worked the space, checking under the bed and then the closet. When his hands went to the wall, her hand flew to her mouth to suppress a scream. He knew! He was looking for the safe room door.
Another movement at her window caught her eye. Shit! Another man eased through and pulled a gun dirty hairy would admire from the back of his pants. He was built like David, but he too was covered in black so she couldn’t be sure. Her whole body ached from fear-induced tension. Where were the Marshall’s who were supposed to protect her? Oh my God! Were they all dead? No, she denied the thought. If they were dead, these guys would have used the door.
Sheena took the stairs two at a time, grabbed Salem, and frantically searched for the door to the safe room. Her hands shook so badly she almost dropped Salem when she located the seam. Clutching her wriggling cat, she used her shoulder to push the door open. Shaking and gasping for breath, she secured the door. Her heart hammered in her ears like thunder. Once safe, she dropped to the bed and wiped the tears from her eyes. She finally released Salem when he yowled his annoyance of her iron grip.
Sitting didn’t last long. She paced up and down the small space. Tilting her head, she listened hard but hear nothing. Was Bast injured? Where were Terry and Steve? Had they come back to help him? Thoughts and fears swirled like a whirlwind in her mind. She needed a weapon just in case the impossible happened, and Moretti got through the door. Avoiding Salem’s swishing tail, she scoured the tiny space. The best she had was a steak knife. It would have to do. Armed with a blade, she turned the monitor on and stared at empty space on the other side of the door.
She straightened when Rick walking to the door and tapped. “Sheena? You in there?”
“Yeah,” she said as quietly as possible but still loud enough for him to hear. “Bast needs help down stairs.”
Without another word, he glanced at the camera and left the room.
Minutes felt like hours. She checked the time and frowned. It had only been five minutes since she locked herself in. She knew this because there was a timer on the wall. Whoever put that there was a sadist.
What was that? Sheena pressed her ear to the door.
Squeak. Screech. Whoosh.
Her entire body stiffened, and she stepped back. It sounded like what she’d heard when she opened the window last night. The wood had swollen from the humidity and protested loudly when she forced it to move. Her gaze shot back to the monitor as a head, covered in a ski mask appeared. Someone was opening her window! Her whole body tensed. She pressed a hand to her chest as a vise gripped her lungs and squeezed.
A thin body in tight black clothing from head to toe followed the head and slid to the floor. A man or a boy? She couldn’t tell. It could be either, but she doubted Moretti would send a child to do a man’s job.
He stood motionless for a moment, scanning the room. Slowly, he worked the space, checking under the bed and then the closet. When his hands went to the wall, her hand flew to her mouth to suppress a scream. He knew! He was looking for the safe room door.
Another movement at her window caught her eye. Shit! Another man eased through and pulled a gun dirty hairy would admire from the back of his pants. He was built like David, but he too was covered in black so she couldn’t be sure. Her whole body ached from fear-induced tension. Where were the Marshall’s who were supposed to protect her? Oh my God! Were they all dead? No, she denied the thought. If they were dead, these guys would have used the door.
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