Fenzy by Liparulo Robert

Author:Liparulo, Robert [Liparulo, Robert]
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: ebook, book
Publisher: Thomas Nelson
Published: 2010-05-18T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

thirty-two

FRIDAY, 6:50 P. M.

Keal examined the two walls at the base of the third-floor stairs. He walked between them and eyed the reinforcing joists he’d mounted to the ceiling, running from one wall to the other. He slammed his shoulder into each wall. They didn’t so much as creak.

He nodded with satisfaction.

He still had to install the doors. They would be the weak points, so he intended to spend extra time on them and use industrial hardware to make sure they were as sturdy as the walls. But he wouldn’t do it today, not with the boys finally getting some sleep. Didn’t matter what they said. No one could sleep through pounding and drilling, especially in a house where every noise could mean approaching danger.

He walked to the doorway of the MCC and looked in. A history timeline ran the length of two walls, near the ceiling. He saw a few places the Kings could tag as places—times— they’d been: World War II about 1943; on the Titanic in 1912; the Civil War in 1862; the Roman Colosseum, circa 80; Hannibal’s march over the Alps in 218 B.C. He had no idea when some of their other adventures took place—Atlantis, the torture chamber, David’s jungle jaunt, for example.

The walls were covered with white boards and corkboards and maps and movie posters—tough-guy posters like Gladiator, 300, and Commando. Keal liked it, all of it. This family of school kids and a principal had done an admirable job of get-ting ready for war. Getting ready? They’d gone to war . . . and survived.

He moved down the hall and into the second floor’s main corridor. He stopped at the railing that overlooked the first-floor foyer and front door. The window next to the door was shattered. In any other house, it might have been a baseball that had crashed through it. Not in this house. No, it had been a dagger—one that seemed to have a mind of its own.

He continued down the hall. The back of a wooden chair was wedged under the linen closet’s door handle, where it belonged. Until I can put a deadbolt on the door, he thought. So much to do.

He reached the boys’ room and eased the door open. Someone was snoring. He entered and walked between the two beds. Xander, he was the snorer. The boy’s mouth was wide open. His hair splayed out against the pillow like brown fire.

He turned to David, who was facedown, pillow over his head. Keal’s heart ached for the child’s injuries. Too much pain. It was bad enough that he’d lost his mother. To couple that grief with physical agony just seemed like . . . Keal didn’t know what. Torture? Cruelty?

Keal believed everything happened for a purpose. He won-dered what God had in mind for these young men. What kind of men was he forging in the fire of this house? In only a few days, Keal had already seen Xander become more compassionate, more outwardly loving and protective of his family, especially his brother.

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