loud. “All I need is the how.”
It took him over an hour to figure out the how, and even then it was a slippery proposition, but he had nothing else to work with.
All he had to do was wait for someone to open the glass door.
The sun peaked, then headed farther west. After a time, it dipped. The light in the basement dimmed. Then it was black again.
Yuri said he was heading to Florida last night. He didn’t leave me alone in the house, did he?
He used his hands to feel along the wall to the toilet. Once there, he knelt down and lowered his head. After cupping water, he drank. Then drank more.
Once his thirst was sated, he stood and urinated.
Could there be something I can do with the toilet?
He thought about breaking the toilet off its mounts, but there were four large bolts at the back secured tighter than his fingers could undo.
After urinating, he flushed the toilet.
Maybe he could flush the toilet continuously. Or plug it with his shirt and fill the room with water.
What would happen if he was unsuccessful? His mattress would be soaked and his shirt would stink. Yuri would be pissed and probably kill him as soon as light another cigar.
But it was worth a try.
Maybe the water would short out the electrical in the house, thereby releasing the magnetized glass door to his prison.
Worst case scenario was he caused Yuri’s home to be damaged before Yuri killed him. Best case, he escaped while everyone was away for a week.
There hadn’t been a single noise from anywhere in the house all day.
He removed his shirt and balled it up. After feeling his way to the bottom of the toilet, he jammed the shirt in the small hole and placed his thumb on the flush button.
One more drink from the non-contaminated water and he was ready to go. Maybe only fresh water would pour over the rim, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
He pushed the button. The water rushing into the bowl had nowhere to go. He waited, then flushed again.
The bowl filled and seeped over the edge.
He flushed again.
Then the unexpected happened. Due to the increased weight of the water and the force of the pump on the inside of the toilet bowl, his shirt got sucked through the hole and disappeared.
He heard it suck and pop through. Using his fingers to feel the level, the water was leaving the inside of the toilet bowl rapidly.
Only a little had made it over the edge where he sat on the floor.
“For fuck’s sake.”
He got up and slid out of his jeans. In his socks and Uomo underwear from Italy, Darwin balled his jeans up and jammed them in the bottom of the toilet.
“I’m coming for you, baby,” he said to Rosina. “We’ve been through worse.”
He got down and flushed the toilet, feeling the bowl fill. He flushed again. Then again.
Soon, water filled the floor around him. He flushed and flushed. After every three or four flushes, he felt the jeans to make sure they weren’t moving. Then he flushed again and again.
Renewed power coursed through him. Tears rolled over his eyes. Energy filled his muscles. He was escaping. He felt it and drank it in. Whatever happened after this, he was leaving the basement of the Russian Mafia, whether he was walking out on his own power or in a body bag.
Any other option was too depressing.
It would seem he was flushing for hours before the water collected to a couple of inches on his underwear where he sat against the glass wall by the toilet.
He flushed one more time and then felt his way to the door.
As far as he could tell in the dark, the water seeped under the door and through cracks around the base.
He slapped the glass. “Damn.”
It would take days to fill the prison, weeks to fill the basement. Water needed to get as high as the electrical panel. Usually basements had drains for water-heater leaks or laundry rooms. Even if the water started to
It took him over an hour to figure out the how, and even then it was a slippery proposition, but he had nothing else to work with.
All he had to do was wait for someone to open the glass door.
The sun peaked, then headed farther west. After a time, it dipped. The light in the basement dimmed. Then it was black again.
Yuri said he was heading to Florida last night. He didn’t leave me alone in the house, did he?
He used his hands to feel along the wall to the toilet. Once there, he knelt down and lowered his head. After cupping water, he drank. Then drank more.
Once his thirst was sated, he stood and urinated.
Could there be something I can do with the toilet?
He thought about breaking the toilet off its mounts, but there were four large bolts at the back secured tighter than his fingers could undo.
After urinating, he flushed the toilet.
Maybe he could flush the toilet continuously. Or plug it with his shirt and fill the room with water.
What would happen if he was unsuccessful? His mattress would be soaked and his shirt would stink. Yuri would be pissed and probably kill him as soon as light another cigar.
But it was worth a try.
Maybe the water would short out the electrical in the house, thereby releasing the magnetized glass door to his prison.
Worst case scenario was he caused Yuri’s home to be damaged before Yuri killed him. Best case, he escaped while everyone was away for a week.
There hadn’t been a single noise from anywhere in the house all day.
He removed his shirt and balled it up. After feeling his way to the bottom of the toilet, he jammed the shirt in the small hole and placed his thumb on the flush button.
One more drink from the non-contaminated water and he was ready to go. Maybe only fresh water would pour over the rim, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
He pushed the button. The water rushing into the bowl had nowhere to go. He waited, then flushed again.
The bowl filled and seeped over the edge.
He flushed again.
Then the unexpected happened. Due to the increased weight of the water and the force of the pump on the inside of the toilet bowl, his shirt got sucked through the hole and disappeared.
He heard it suck and pop through. Using his fingers to feel the level, the water was leaving the inside of the toilet bowl rapidly.
Only a little had made it over the edge where he sat on the floor.
“For fuck’s sake.”
He got up and slid out of his jeans. In his socks and Uomo underwear from Italy, Darwin balled his jeans up and jammed them in the bottom of the toilet.
“I’m coming for you, baby,” he said to Rosina. “We’ve been through worse.”
He got down and flushed the toilet, feeling the bowl fill. He flushed again. Then again.
Soon, water filled the floor around him. He flushed and flushed. After every three or four flushes, he felt the jeans to make sure they weren’t moving. Then he flushed again and again.
Renewed power coursed through him. Tears rolled over his eyes. Energy filled his muscles. He was escaping. He felt it and drank it in. Whatever happened after this, he was leaving the basement of the Russian Mafia, whether he was walking out on his own power or in a body bag.
Any other option was too depressing.
It would seem he was flushing for hours before the water collected to a couple of inches on his underwear where he sat against the glass wall by the toilet.
He flushed one more time and then felt his way to the door.
As far as he could tell in the dark, the water seeped under the door and through cracks around the base.
He slapped the glass. “Damn.”
It would take days to fill the prison, weeks to fill the basement. Water needed to get as high as the electrical panel. Usually basements had drains for water-heater leaks or laundry rooms. Even if the water started to