Page 24 of Survive the Night
Sarah froze, holding her breath as she listened for any sign that Aaron had heard her misstep. All she could hear was the blood thumping through her ears, and she started to breathe again.
As she stepped down again, the surface her socked foot came into contact with felt different. It was slightly uneven and cool. When she tried to descend another step, her body jarred when her foot connected too soon with that same bumpy surface, and she realized that she’d reached the bottom. It was a relief to be off the untrustworthy stairs and farther from Aaron, but the basement was an unknown. Sarah had no idea which way she should go or what she might run into.
She extended her hands, hoping to feel any obstacles before she crashed into them, and her fingers bumped into a wood surface. Flattening her palms against it, she ran her hands up and down, trying to figure out what it was—a wall? A large piece of furniture?—when she found the doorknob. That was why it was so dark—there was a door at the bottom of the stairs.
Turning the knob, she pushed it open, hoping it would be lighter on the other side. She only stepped into more blackness, however. She closed the door behind her, cringing at the click as it latched but wanting as many barriers between her and Aaron as possible. Although she felt for a lock, the door was smooth except for the round knob. Giving up on locking it, she turned to face the pitch-black room. With her arms stretched out in front of her, she took a shuffling step forward and then another. The dark was so complete that it was dizzying.
Something brushed her face. Sarah sucked in a hard breath through her nose, barely preventing a scream from escaping. She batted at the air, trying to swat away whatever had touched her, but it didn’t work. The light tap against her cheek repeated once, twice, and a third time before she realized that she’d walked into a hanging string.
With a ragged gasp of relief that it hadn’t been a giant, fanged spider or a rabid bat or a serial killer or whatever else might hang out in a dark basement, Sarah grasped the string and tugged. A lightbulb clicked on, blinding her for a few moments until her eyes adjusted.
She looked around, taking in the shadowy space. Antique-looking things were stacked against the walls, some broken and some not, some older than others, but all dirty, cobweb-covered, and very creepy. The floor was packed dirt, and the walls were unfinished with exposed, battered-looking insulation filling in the areas between the studs. There were suspicious rustling noises and the musty smell of rodents.
Hoping that nothing furry—or scaly or slimy or…well, anything—ran out in front of her, she crept forward, trying to see around the piles to a possible exit—a door or window or anything that would give her a chance to escape. There was nothing—no convenient outside door into the root cellar, no window. The bare bulb was dim, though, and threw a harsh, white light that distorted shapes more and more the farther from the bulb she went.
What she wouldn’t give for a flashlight. Sarah promised herself that she’d start carrying one at all times. A flashlight, and a utility knife, and a gun would’ve come in handy at the door earlier.
A wave of guilt swept over her. Could she have actually shot her brother?
Then she remembered that he was planning on basically selling her to Logan Jovanovic. Her flash of guilt disappeared, replaced by the burn of anger. Aaron was the one who should feel guilty. He’d locked her up, hurt her, driven her to escape, and now he’d just ruined the first place she’d ever been uncomplicatedly happy. Rage built until it was pounding against her insides, wanting out. At that moment, if she’d really had a gun in her hands, Sarah would’ve shot him without remorse…although she’d probably have aimed for his foot.
There was a shadowy alcove behind an old dresser stacked with dusty picture frames. Sarah’s heart rate sped up with hope that she’d found a way out—one that didn’t involve backtracking and running into Aaron. The large dresser mirror blocked her view, hiding the nook. Was there a door there? Could she be that lucky?
Sarah picked her way around some scattered scrap lumber and wire hangers so that she could wedge herself between the dresser and the wall. She held her breath as she brushed against both surfaces, unable to stop thinking about what was rubbing off onto her—dirt and dust and spiders and… She forced herself to quit obsessing before she completely lost her nerve.
From her new angle, she could see behind the mirror, but it was too dark, the shadows too deep, to make out any details. Carefully, Sarah climbed onto the top of the dresser, making sure not to knock any of the picture frames off onto the floor. Peering over the top of the mirror, she could see into the nook. Disappointment struck as she saw the alcove was lined with solid rock.
Tipping her head back as she closed her eyes in anxious frustration, Sarah forced herself to think. She had to find a way out of the basement, a way that didn’t involve going back upstairs where Aaron was. She opened her eyes and spotted a wedge of light illuminating the wall beneath a piece of plywood, above and to the right of the dresser.
Looking closer, she saw it was sunlight. Her breath caught with hope as she realized that there was a window behind the wood. She carefully made her way to the side of the dresser. From that position, she could just reach the top of the board. She grabbed the upper edge and hooked her fingertips behind it, struggling not to cringe away as her nails penetrated the thick layer of spiderwebs between the plywood and the window frame.
Sarah pulled at the board, praying that the age of the wood and the nails holding it to the window frame would work in her favor, weakening it enough that she could yank it free. The wood creaked and tipped toward her, and Sarah’s heart jumped with excitement. It was working. She redoubled her efforts, leaning back to use her weight as she hauled on the edge of the board.
With a crack, the nails holding the plywood pulled loose. Sarah lost her balance, toppling back off the dresser. Her arms flailed as she fell, smacking against the piled lumber and sending pieces flying across the dirt floor. She landed on her back with enough force to drive the air out of her lungs.
For a moment, she lay stunned and gasping for breath. Light from the newly uncovered window poured into the basement, blinding her. There was a squeak and a thump from the top of the stairs, and Sarah recognized the sound: someone had just opened the door to the basement.
Suddenly, her lack of air wasn’t from her fall but from sheer terror instead. Sarah scrambled to her feet and climbed onto the dresser again, her hands shaking as she grabbed the mirror for balance. When she heard heavy footsteps on the stairs, Sarah quit caring about staying quiet, knocking all the picture frames to the ground as she moved over next to the window.
The glass had been knocked out long ago. Although the window wasn’t big, Sarah was pretty sure she could fit. For once, she was thankful for her small frame. Grasping the bottom of the window, she boosted herself up. Sarah managed to get her head and shoulders out of the opening before her arms started to shake. Her feet scrabbled against the stone wall, trying to find leverage.
A laugh, horribly familiar and humorless, came from behind and beneath her. “What are you doing, Alice?” her brother asked. He was close—too close—and terror gave her a surge of strength. She hauled herself up and out of the window until she was halfway through. Just her legs remained in the basement, but that was still too much. She was vulnerable, exposed.
Sarah arched her back, struggling to see over the window well into the front yard. If she screamed, would it bring help, or just Logan? Her frantic gaze scanned the area as she strained to get the rest of the way through the window. The sound of boots on gravel made her whip her head around. If Logan came at her, she’d be trapped. Her wonderful taste of freedom would be over.
It wasn’t Logan, though. Instead, she saw Otto rushing from his parked squad car toward the front porch. Relief and gratitude and something else, something new, poured through her. It wasn’t just that someone had come to help her, it was Otto. She knew he would keep her safe, and here he was, proving it. At that moment, her small crush grew, solidifying into something real and amazing.
“Otto!” she yelled, her voice breaking with fear and wonder that he was actually there when she needed him most. “Help me!”
His head whipped around, and his gaze locked on her. He headed toward her just as Aaron’s iron-tight grip wrapped around both of her ankles. Releasing the frame, Sarah grabbed the metal edge of the window well, but its smooth, rounded edge didn’t offer anything to grip. Aaron gave a yank, and her shoulders shrieked in protest as she was stretched between her hold on the window and her brother.
“Otto!” she yelped in panic, knowing she wouldn’t be able to hang on for very long. In fact, one more good pull would bring her back into the basement, to face the wrath of her brother.
Suddenly, Otto was there. He grabbed her, wrapping his huge hands around her lower arms, and Sarah had never felt so relieved. Releasing the edge of the window well, she grasped his wrists as he hauled her toward him. “I’ve got you,” he said.
“No, you don’t,” Aaron snarled, his grip on her ankles tightening until Sarah could almost feel the bones grinding against each other. She gave a gasping sob of pain as her brother yanked on her legs, trying to pull her back into the basement.
“Who’s there?” Otto barked in a tone so sharp and commanding that Sarah flinched, even though she knew it wasn’t directed toward her. “Police. Let her go now!”
