Breathe by Mike Brogan

Author:Mike Brogan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Breathe
ISBN: 9780998005676
Publisher: Lighthouse Publishing
Published: 2017-09-11T16:00:00+00:00

FORTY SIX

Nell heard nothing for several minutes. No machines humming, no bottles rattling, no printers clacking, no computers beeping, no trucks coming or going.

And no men talking.

Only silence.

Hasham and his men had shut down the bottling operations and left for the night. Had they left her alone? She doubted it. Hasham had to have a night watchman walking around. A very silent watchman.

She heard a noisy truck drive down the alley behind her, spewing gasoline fumes in its wake.

She had no tools to unhinge the door. Just screws, nails, bolts, paint. She saw a small stepladder and a longer ladder, some boxes of printer paper. She had no chemicals to make an explosive.

She heard a pigeon cooing above her.

She looked up and saw the bird’s silhouette through the small glass-block window near the ceiling. The bird’s shape was clearly defined, suggesting the glass might be thinner than she thought.

Could she break the glass?

Could she even get up to it?

And if she got up to it, she had no tool to break the glass.

But if she somehow did manage to break the glass, could she squeeze through? The window looked too small.

Or was it?

She held a broom handle up and measured the window to be maybe fourteen inches high and twenty-four inches wide.

Could she crawl through? She was thin, one hundred eighteen, five-nine. Maybe with twisting, she could squeeze through. But even if she couldn’t, she could stick her head through and shout for help.

It was her only hope.

But the ladder didn’t look long enough. She carried the rickety wooden ladder over and leaned it against the wall. If she stood on the top rung, she might reach up to the window.

But how could she break the glass blocks?

Again, she rummaged through the room for something to break glass. She found nothing. Frustrated, she spun around too fast and tripped over a heavy box of printer paper, dragging it a few inches. Beneath the box, she saw the tip of a tool. She moved the box, grabbed the big rusty wrench.

Maybe seven pounds.

Maybe heavy enough.

Gripping the wrench, she started climbing the ladder. On the third rung, it wobbled so much she almost toppled over.

Slowly, rung by rung, she climbed the rickety ladder to just beneath the window.

She reached up and tapped the wrench against a glass block. The glass sounded thicker than it looked. If she could just break out the window and signal someone.

She smelled gasoline again. Another smelly truck probably drove down the alley.

She swung the heavy wrench against the glass hard and the wrench bounced back, nearly flying from her hands.

But it left a small crack in the glass.

She swung again and split the crack wider. She swung still harder and punched a bigger hole. Bits of sealant crumbled out between the glass blocks. Her next swing shattered the glass enough to see outside through a one inch hole. Fresh air whooshed onto her face and felt wonderful.

She listened for anyone responding to the broken glass. No one did.

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