Page 77 of Hidden
“Down here!” Ellie yelled. He wasn’t sure the firefighters would hear her over the roar of the flames. Or if inhaling a lungful of smoke so that she could holler was the best idea. But he didn’t suggest she stop. There was little else she could do, not while still tied to the chair, and he understood her need todo something.
“There!” he said, making it through the final strand.
“Down here!” she shouted again as he stood. Holding out a hand, he helped her rise, her legs unsteady. She shook one out, then the other, but didn’t take much time with either.
“What now?” she asked before a coughing fit overtook her.
In the smoke and darkness, he could only make out general objects. And he hadn’t considered just how much the sting of the smoke would make his eyes water. Between the two, his vision was hazy and disoriented.
“Hold on to my belt loops,” he choked out as he yanked his shirt over his head. When he felt her fingers slide into place, he started inching forward, using the wall as his guide. And as he tied his shirt around his nose and mouth, he made a vow to himself. If they got out—when they got out—he’d never take fresh air for granted again.
With his shirt secured around his face and Ellie following close behind, he made his way toward the utility shelf blocking the door. Loaded with heavy tools, they wouldn’t be able to just shove it out of the way. They’d have to toss everything off before they could move it. A reality that nearly overwhelmed him. The heat and smoke were sapping his energy. He suspected Ellie was experiencing the same symptoms. But they had to try.
“Door…behind…the…shelf,” he managed to wheeze out. She looked at him, her eyes glazed over from lack of oxygen. Deciding that showing her was better than talking, he reached for the first thing his finger touched. A box of some sort. Then with a decisive shove, he sent it flying off the shelf and into the recesses of the basement.
He didn’t take another second to explain to Ellie; rather, he continued to show her. Pulling another item, a small leaf blower, off, he tossed it to the side. Then, as his grip wrapped around a third item, a chainsaw, Ellie joined him.
Crossing to the other side of the shelf, she began shifting and yanking things off. They quickly cleared three of the five shelves. But the two lower ones held the heavier equipment. A snow blower, a radial saw, and an air compressor were the tools he remembered.
Dropping to his knees, he began to pull the saw from the lowest shelf. Maybe if they could get that one out of the way, it would lighten the whole unit enough that he could move it.
His fingers brushed the top, but he couldn’t seem to get a grip on it. Ellie moved to his side and tried to do the same. With the same results.
He stared at the saw, aware that his hesitation could cost them their lives but unable to process what to do next. He knew the effect smoke inhalation had on a body: chest pain, confusion, asphyxiation. His brain still functioned enough that he knew what was happening. But his body, his body seemed unable to respond.
Beside him, Ellie curled her fingers into his. The touch, small, intimate, and trusting, gave him one last burst of determination. Moving the saw wasn’t going to happen. His fine motor skills were suffering from lack of oxygen. But he could kick.
Swinging his legs in front of him, he set his feet on the shelf and shoved. It swayed with the impact but didn’t move. He tried again and this time it broke free from the floor and shifted. An inch. But it was an inch he’d take.
He tried again. And again, it moved. When he shoved it for the fourth time, Ellie’s feet were beside his, and it moved a few more inches. Enough that he could see the edge of the door. They still had so far to go, but their progress filled him with the adrenaline he needed to keep going. And again, they pushed. He was poised for another when Ellie put her hand on his arm. He paused and looked at her.
“Someone…” She pointed outside.
He cocked his head and sure enough, he heard it too. Footsteps in the snow. Heavy footsteps. And a voice.
“Asher!”
He blinked. He knew the voice. But whose was it?
“Ellie!” another voice called.
“Back up,” the first voice said. Asher didn’t know if he was talking to them or to each other. Either way, both he and Ellie moved, putting their backs to the wall. He even gave the wall a thump for good measure.
“Did you hear that?” one of them said. Brad, he thought it might be Brad. “They’re in there, and they’re alive!”
“Asher, I’m coming in. If you’re in front of the door, move.” Mitch! His cousin Mitch.
He twined his fingers with Ellie’s and with his other hand, he thumped the wall again. Mitch would know it for what it was—an all-clear signal.
Then gathering Ellie into his arms, they huddled together against the wall. Somewhere, in another part of the house, something came crashing down. Ellie jerked in his embrace and burrowed deeper against his chest.
Something collided with the door and instinctively Asher shifted to put himself between Ellie and whatever his cousins were doing. Another hit. Then another. And it dawned on him, they were using axes to hack through the locked door.
Another swing and they broke through. Light filtered in through the gash, along with a hint, a tiny hint, of fresh air.
Another swing and another gash. He’d only be in the way if he tried to help, so he closed his eyes and let his head fall back.
And put his and Ellie’s lives in the hands of his cousins as he focused on breathing and holding on to the woman he loved.
