Grand Escape
Michelle Bryan
Copyright © 2016 Michelle Bryan
All rights reserved.
Kindle Version
Cover Design by Rachel Bostwick
This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events and situations are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
Grand Escape
S am awoke with a start, unsure of what had stirred him from his sleep. The predawn light filtered through the tiny, dirt-encrusted attic window, creating patterns of dancing shadows across the wooden beams of the ceiling. He stared at them in sleepy confusion. Had he really heard something or had he dreamt it?
Thump.
Bolting upright from the musty mattress, his eyes focused on the hatch leading to the floor below. That was no dream.
Thump!
This bang was much louder. The heavy chest he’d pushed over the hatch to help keep it down actually shifted a couple of inches.
Someone or something was trying to get in!
The next blow woke Amy and she instantly rolled off the cot at his head, landing on her knees beside him on the mattress. Her slanted eyes were wide with fear.
"Sa..." she began to whisper but Sam quickly covered his little sister's mouth with his hand. Raising an index finger to his closed lips, he shook his head.
Don't make a sound, Ames, he thought, hoping desperately she got the message in his panicked eyes. Amy nodded behind his hand and he knew she understood. Silently he rose to his feet and inched toward the chest, heart pounding and praying fervently that the floorboards of the old attic wouldn’t creak with his movement. Sitting on the chest and adding to the weight, the next push from below was nowhere near as effective in moving the barrier.
"Give it up, Steve man. Obviously it's stuck. Probably nothin' good up there, anyways."
The disembodied voice floated up through the floorboards with the clarity of glass. Sam couldn't agree with it more.
Yeah. Give it up, Steve!
"I'm telling you, there's someone up there. I know I saw a light glimmering up there last night. And that means they gotta have supplies."
This was followed by a rapid thumping underneath, as if whoever was standing under the hatch was pounding it with their fist.
"We know you're up there. There ain't nowhere to go. You may as well give us what you got and maybe we'll let you live. Or maybe we'll just feed you to the freaks!"
Laughter followed the threat and Sam felt the ice-cold tendrils of terror gripping his heart. Why was this happening? Why has the world gone berserk? A slight sob reached his ears and he looked over at Amy. She was still on her knees on the mattress, her face scrunched up with the effort of trying to stay quiet. She didn’t quite succeed. Tears ran freely down her cheeks as the slight whimpers escaped. It almost made Sam cry too. Almost. But at fourteen he was supposed to be a man now, and for Amy to see him cry would be her undoing. He knew that. He had to stay strong for his little sister.
The laughter finally faded away along with the footsteps, but Sam remained on the chest for a good ten minutes more. He wanted to make sure they were actually gone. The slamming of the heavy front door shook the old house and rattled the tiny window. Was it a trick? Sliding hesitantly off the chest, Sam shuffled over to the grimy glass. He could make out three figures standing on the sidewalk below, heads swiveling from side to side as they watched for the “freaks” in the
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