Page 58 of Survive the Night
Shoving to the back of the closet, Sarah fumbled as she tried to work the hidden latch free, and she remembered having the same problem several nights ago. Her nerves had been so pointless then, just silly late-night jitters. As the door finally swung open, Sarah swore that she’d never be scared without reason ever again.
Mort and Bob took the lead again, darting down the stairs into the bunker. Securing the door behind her, Sarah, with Xena close behind her, turned on the light and followed the animals, taking the steps three at a time. Just as she reached the bottom, there was a thunderous boom. Everything shook, and Sarah was knocked off her feet, falling painfully onto her hip and her arm.
She pushed herself to sitting, feeling too vulnerable sprawled on the bunker floor, as the walls and ceiling and the ground itself trembled around her. Xena climbed onto Sarah’s lap, eighty-plus pounds of knobby joints and poky feet, and Sarah didn’t have the heart to push her away. Instead, she wrapped her arms around the quivering dog, hugging her tightly until the room around them went still.
When it finally did, when everything was eerily silent, Sarah didn’t want to move. Moving required making decisions, and she was a little too freaked out for that. That sound, those tremors, were becoming uncomfortably familiar. Something above them had just blown up. By the force that had radiated all the way down into the secure bunker, it had to have been big. Sarah wondered with a sick twist of fear whether Otto’s entire house was gone.
Grief hit her at the thought. What if that elegant, well-preserved house that had withstood everything the Rockies had thrown at it for over a century was now destroyed, all by her stupid, sociopathic brother?
The thought of Aaron brought anger, and that sent a surge of determination through her. He wasn’t going to win. He might have the helicopters and the bombs and a whole mercenary army he could direct from a jail cell, but she had…
She looked around, taking a tally. She had a terrified pit bull mix and an elderly K9, plus a chubby cat currently wedged under a cot. A spark of fear hit her at the thought of being responsible for these animals—for any lives, including her own—but she shoved it away. She dug for confidence, picturing Otto’s face as he told her to fake it until she made it. The thought of him both gave her courage and added another surge of terror. There’d been at least two explosions in town. What if he’d been hit by one of them?
Her anxiety swelled, blocking out everything else as she imagined all sorts of nightmare scenarios. The room blurred around her, and Xena whined as she pressed against Sarah’s legs. Swaying, Sarah dropped a hand onto Xena’s back. The feel of warm, hard muscle under the dog’s slick fur steadied her.
Forcing away any and all thoughts of Otto being injured—or worse—Sarah tried to come up with a plan.
“Okay,” she said, and then jumped at the sound of her voice. Feeling sheepish that she’d scared herself, she spoke again, just to prove she wasn’t afraid. “What do we need?”
First, they needed to get to safety. The bunker felt secure, but it wouldn’t be if one of Aaron’s people discovered the door in the back of the closet. She glanced at the entrance to the tunnels.
“Okay, guys. Let’s make an escape, then.”
Sarah looked around. Her brain was still racing at a hundred miles an hour, and worry about Otto and the others was still nibbling holes in her control, despite her determination to stay focused. The memory of that first tour of the bunker echoed in her mind. In his calm, deep voice, Otto had explained what was there and why it was important to have certain things in an emergency. She started digging through the storage containers, pulling out a camping backpack and filling it with water bottles, food—Otto even had dog- and cat-food stores—a lighter, a folding knife, a flashlight, and some rope. She thought about taking the tent and sleeping bag, but decided against it. It was less than ten miles into town. They should make it there in about three hours, even moving slowly. There shouldn’t be any need to camp, and the extra weight would just slow her down.
She turned to the container holding clothes next. Stripping off her shoes, coat, long-sleeved T-shirt, and khakis that she’d worn to work, she pulled on some long underwear. It was meant for someone much bigger than her. Next, she pulled on her khakis and T-shirt, followed by some snow pants, a fleece top, two pairs of socks, and her coat. The snow pants were much too big, but she was able to tuck all the extra into her boots, and the waist had a drawstring. The crotch hung down around her thighs, which made walking awkward, but she figured she’d get used to it. Staying dry and warm was what was important now. Pulling on her hat and grabbing mittens—and then throwing extra hats, mittens, and socks into her pack—Sarah called it good.
A sense of urgency pushed her to move, to leave before Aaron’s goons found her. If they’d blown up Otto’s house, not caring that she might have died—or maybe hoping for exactly that—then Aaron wasn’t worried about getting her back alive anymore. Now, it was all about revenge and damage control.
Her mind went to Grace, and she wondered if the Jovanovics were involved in the attack. Aaron had resources, but that was a lot of money to spend just to kill an uncooperative sister.
After wrestling her mind back under control, she took one last look around. There were a lot of things that looked useful—camp stoves and a huge first-aid kit and a wicked-looking ax and sledgehammer combo—but Sarah decided to just leave with what she had in her pack. After all, Bob was going to have to fit in there, too.
As she approached the cot, the cat gave a tiny, pitiful meow.
“I know,” Sarah crooned. “That’s how I feel, too. Once we get to town, though, you can hang out with Dee’s cat. You’ll get along great. If you don’t, then that’s okay. Their house is huge. There very possibly could be mice, too, so that’s a bonus.” As she kept up her soothing commentary, she moved closer and closer, not wanting to spook Bob into darting for another, less-accessible hiding place.
Except for another nearly soundless meow, however, the cat was docile, allowing her to scoop him up and carry him over to the backpack. Sarah tucked him in the large front pocket, which had mesh sides.
“It’s a little like one of those purse pet carriers,” she said, as Bob growled, a steady, continuous rumble that made the whole pack shake. “This’ll be over soon.” Sarah zipped the cat in and looked at the two dogs crowded around her legs.
I hope.
Hoisting the pack onto her back while trying not to jostle Bob too much, Sarah looked around one last time, wondering if she should try to hunt down leashes—or make some out of rope, if necessary. She glanced at the ceiling. There was no telling if anyone was up there, or if the helicopter had just dropped the bomb and then flown away.
The thought made her antsy, and she started for the tunnel entrance. She had rope and could leash the dogs later, if necessary. So far, they had stuck closely to her. If something did happen to her, she wanted the dogs to be able to run away. She quickly shook off that morbid thought before it could make her start trembling again, and opened the door to the tunnels.
Tunnels was the wrong word for it, Sarah thought as she turned on the light. It was more of a series of hallways than the cave-like hole that the word tunnel brought to mind. As she came to the spot where one passageway branched off from the main one, she stopped so abruptly that Xena’s head bumped the back of her knees.
Bean and Hortense. How could she have forgotten the horse and goat? Bile rose in her throat as she thought about the way the ground shook after the blast. Had it taken out the barn, too? Her stomach twisted, and she retched.
She couldn’t leave without seeing if they were okay. As much as she wanted to run through the tunnel and down the mountain, not stopping until she reached town and Otto, she had to find out if Bean and Hortense were still alive. If they were, she had to get them out…somehow.
Hurrying down the hallway hopefully leading to the barn, she eyed the ceiling worriedly. It was fairly low, but was it too low for Bean to walk through? The ground started to slope upward. Feeling like she was getting close, Sarah started to jog, even as she worried about what she’d find in the barn…if there was a barn anymore.
The tunnel ended at a set of double doors, and Sarah unlocked them with shaking hands. Mort made a sound deep in his chest—not quite a growl but more than a whine—and Sarah sucked in a quick breath, bracing for what she might see.
Although she wanted to fling the doors open, to move as quickly as she could to save the animals, Sarah turned off the tunnel light and made herself hold her hand close to the door, checking for heat. It was cool, almost cold, so she slowly cracked one door. The light was strange, red and orange and flickering, and her lungs seized. Was the barn on fire? Her eyes adjusted to the eerie, uneven glow, and she saw the interior of the barn. Everything was still in place and unburned. The breath she’d taken escaped in a silent rush. The barn was still standing.
