Page 14 of Pretty Broken Dolls
McGaven took a few moments to jimmy the metal bars loose and pry the plywood sheet from the front door.
Again, Katie was struck by how quiet the street and surrounding areas were. The screeching sound of the metal bars being pried loose overpowered the stillness.
She glanced to the car and could see the distinct outline of Cisco’s head and ears—motionless and watching every move they made.
“Got it,” said McGaven with a grin on his face. He had removed enough of the bars and boarding to create a narrow gap, through which he squeezed his tall body. The door was open and the key wasn’t necessary.
Katie easily slipped through behind him.
Darkness greeted them.
McGaven flipped on a flashlight and Katie followed his example. It was almost entirely dark because of the coverings over the windows. Only tiny cracks of light peeked through.
Katie thought she heard Cisco bark once and then a strange hollow knock at the front. Straining to listen for a moment, she heard nothing except for her own shallow breathing and felt only her slightly accelerated heartbeat. Claustrophobia was starting to set in, one of her symptoms when PTSD surfaced. This wasn’t an unusual reaction under unknown circumstances—which she worked hard to keep under control by regulated breathing and positive visualizations.
Katie moved in one direction and McGaven the other. The sweeping motions of their flashlight beams danced across the walls. They didn’t reveal anything unusual.
Since the house was small, it was easy to see most of the interior by standing in the middle of the living room. There was still furniture, covered with white sheets. It looked like two small couches, a coffee table, two end tables, and a small dining table.
There was a faintly musty smell, mixed with something Katie couldn’t immediately identify.
“I wonder what they are going to do with the house?” asked McGaven.
“It’s a nice piece of property. Maybe someone will want to buy it and knock down the house, build a new one.”
McGaven had a new thought. “Hey, where do you think her personal belongings are?”
“There’s probably an attorney involved.”
“I’ll find out and see if we can have a look at her things,” he said.
Katie and McGaven met back in the kitchen. Strangely, all the appliances had been removed, leaving weird gaps. The cupboards were still full of dishes, pots and pans.
“That’s odd,” she said and felt light-headed as she spoke. She wavered a bit, causing her to lower the flashlight.
“Katie?”
“I don’t know. I’m not feeling well.”
“Let’s get outside and grab some fresh air,” he said.
“Okay,” she said weakly. She saw McGaven go to the front door but after a moment, he began pounding on it.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s stuck.”
Katie walked toward McGaven but her feet felt oddly heavy and the room began to spin. She fell to her knees. Trying to focus, she caught the distinct odor. “Gav, it’s gas.”
McGaven was swinging the crowbar, but the remaining metal coverings wouldn’t move. He turned and saw Katie struggling. “Hey, I can smell it too.” He took hold of Katie and steered her to the back sliding door. He stumbled too, obviously becoming overwhelmed by the escaping gas filling the house.
Holding her flashlight as tight as she could, she saw what McGaven was going to do. The slider was jammed and wouldn’t budge. The only option was to smash the sliding glass door and then break the external plywood boarding. Katie leaned against the wall, trying to concentrate and keeping her mind conscious—fighting the unsettling disorientation. That’s when she heard Cisco barking in rapid succession.
Someone was outside.
McGaven pulled his gun.
Katie realized what he was going to do and yelled, “No! The flash could ignite the gas.” Her words seemed foreign and faraway.
