Page 70 of Last Girls Alive
Katie looked over to see the silhouette of a man standing at the entrance of the container, dressed all in black with a hoodie over his head. His face was obscured. “Wait!” she yelled as she dropped her cell.
Both McGaven and Katie rushed the door just as it was closed, secured, and some type of lock was engaged.
“Katie!” Chad yelled down the cell phone.
“Open the door!” Katie screamed, hammering her fists. “We’re police officers, let us out now!”
McGaven joined in, kicking and punching the metal door—to no avail.
With no windows, it was now completely dark inside.
Out of breath, Katie said to McGaven, “Now what?”
“Your phone.”
Katie stumbled around and found her phone. She picked it up, “Chad? Are you there?”
Static crackled and then there were three loud beeps—then nothing.
“Shit!” She frantically kept trying to call him back but couldn’t make a connection. “It’s this container that’s interfering.” She moved around, trying to get a signal. “Nothing.”
“Me neither,” said McGaven moving his cell phone around. “What do you think Chad heard?”
“I’m not sure.”
The sound of a large earthmover started up in the distance and the smell of diesel fuel drifted through the air vents. Katie heard the construction machine shift and began moving—it became louder as it approached them. The floor beneath their feet vibrated.
“What the hell?” McGaven said.
“You don’t think—” was all she managed to say before the bulldozer slammed into the side of the container causing it to lurch, throwing Katie and McGaven to the floor.
Thirty-One
Saturday 1105 hours
The second hit was harder than the first—a deafening ringing throughout the metal container that rattled through Katie’s body as she was slammed against the corrugated wall. Pain spread throughout her body. She tried to gulp and cough to catch her breath, but the rumble of the giant earthmover brought back horrific memories from the battlefield. Things she never wanted to remember. Images of blood, casualties and broken bodies flooded her mind. She could actually smell gunfire and feel the intense heat of the afternoon on her face. The traumas that she had so carefully hidden away in the recesses of her mind broke free and swarmed her.
Realizing her cell had once again dislodged with the impact, she scrambled around for it in the pitch darkness, found it and stashed it deeply in her pocket. Pushing a door out of her way she managed to stand and call out for her partner.
“Gav?”
There was no response.
“Gav?” she called again, more frantic. She heard a noise—movement and a gasp. “Where are you?” she said more quietly, not wanting the person on the outside to hear her.
Reaching down, she moved through the container with her hands out in front of her, not wanting to lose her phone again, until she found McGaven, caught between a heavy piece of lumber and a door.
“Gav,” she said, putting her hands on his face—he stirred slightly. He had been knocked unconscious. She felt blood coming from his scalp. “You okay? Can you move at all?”
“No,” he muttered.
“Where’s the pain?”
“No pain. Justhardto breathe…”
Feeling around, Katie discovered that the door had wedged against him and was pressing hard into his chest. “Take it easy. Breathe slowly, evenly if you can. Let me see what I can do, okay?”
Though her hands were shaking uncontrollably, Katie moved around the door trapping McGaven and the dent of the container pushing in toward him. Shifting back and bracing herself, she put her feet up against the door and pushed with everything she had. But it wasn’t enough. Using her hands as her eyes, she found part of a piece of lumber to use like a crowbar.
