Unbound by A R Shaw

Author:A R Shaw [Shaw, A R]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Apocalyptic Ventures, LLC
Published: 2018-06-26T22:00:00+00:00

20

Stock-Still Terror

Three months later, Sloane whispered, “Don’t…make…a…sound.”

Sloane’s girls couldn’t see their mother in the darkened bedroom, but they knew to heed her every whispered word metered out with care.

A funny smell hung in the air, one that caused them to breathe in momentarily, halting their breath in an effort to refuse something. That was what first stirred Sloane from a light, guarded sleep. Then, the sounds of footsteps on the creaky staircase wrought by a saltwater invasion and slowly dried over the months, loosening the screws so that anyone with a feathers weight sounded an orchestrated alarm. This noise brought her around completely, knowing it was more than the wind. When she sat up, through bleary eyes, she saw their bedroom door was locked as always and yet, a lightbeam shone like a laser through the cracks from the other side. There shouldn’t be anyone there, yet there was, and that was an ominous sign since her canine friends had not barked even once or growled an alert.

With only the light of the moon shining through the window, Sloane reached over Nicole’s stiff form, who was frozen stock-still in terror, and grabbed her Glock off the nightstand. The child’s eyes were widened with fear and her breathing sped with a rapid pace. Sloane knew she had to do something in the next half second or they might all die.

Barefooted, she moved quickly to the bathroom door and motioned with her arm for the girls to follow and move as silently as possible. They’d planned this before, though this was the first time they had to actually carry out an escape from their house on Horseshoe Lane.

Her oldest daughter, Wren, ushered the two younger girls into the bathroom and Sloane barred the door behind them.

They knew not to utter a word or make the slightest sound, though Nicole held her nose to bar the odd smell that seemed stronger by the minute. She’d trained them and they’d practiced night and day for any contingency thought up. She’d made it a game amongst them to stave off boredom and to teach them survival. Sloane prayed her girls would make the short distance to safety. Their lives depended on them performing exactly as she’d taught them.

By the time the bedroom door burst open with force and yelling commenced, Sloane’s bare feet were lifted high up into the false air vent which she’d previously set into place. Remembering Trent Carson’s recommendation that there should always be at least two ways to escape from each room, she silently thanked him that she’d heeded this advice. Sloane had recovered the air vent before the intruders burst through the blocked doorway to the bathroom in their search for the inhabitants.

With scurrying noises only noticeable ahead of her, Sloane prayed, Please let them make it.

She followed them partway and when the cold, moist air hit her face, she took a deep breath to release the odd gas odor as she made her way through the escape route in the crawlspace of the attic and soon she too was at the opening.

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