door. The gun would be useless until the cartridges fully dried, so I put it in my pocket.
“Well, what the hell would MacGyver do?” Flo mused.
It was a legitimate question. Flo and I were both devoted fans of the old MacGyver TV series. We’d seen each episode at least four times, and some of our favorites up to ten. It had been our routine to watch two episodes each Wednesday night on Netflix, then quiz each other afterward. Flo in particular had an obsession that bordered on rabid. Long ago she’d tattooed “MacGyver” on her hip, and just this year she bought the actual houseboat that had been used as his home in the television series. She found it on eBay for just $36,000. Right now it’s docked at Grant’s Landing in Vancouver and uninhabitable, but it’s fun to go up there with her every few months or so to help her make repairs in the hopes that one day she may retire there, despite Flo’s adamant proclamation that she’ll retire when she’s dead.
At the thought of Flo dead, I shot into action, quickly rifling through the contents of the medicine cabinet, then looking under the sink. All I could find was four rolls of toilet paper, a 1981 issue of Playboy magazine, and a small container of dental floss. Perfect, I thought. I lifted the lid of the toilet and I tossed each roll of toilet paper into the water in order to quickly soak them through. Sodden rolls of toilet paper actually shrink in size but vastly increase in density, so the four of them end-to-end created a nice wet plug in order to keep the smoke and fire from seeping in from under the door. I left an opening about four inches wide directly under the doorknob, then ripped the cover from the magazine and slipped it through so it lay flat on the floor and flush next to the doorjamb, praying that the flames wouldn’t reach it.
Next I retrieved the knife blade that had broken from its handle when Flo stepped on Hackman’s hand earlier. It was a small paring blade, and I allowed myself a single cringe thinking about the agony it must have inflicted on poor Mr. Colgate, then I tied the blade to the end of the dental floss, anchoring the knot around a hole at its base, and slipped it through the crack at the top of the door.
Since this was an interior door there was no insulated stripping along the jamb, and the blade slipped through to the other side easily. I lowered it until I could feel it touch the magazine cover at the bottom. Luckily there was enough floss to traverse the length of the door as well as allow me to keep ahold of it from the other side.
“Flo, can you—gently—pull the magazine cover with the blade on top of it back inside the bathroom?” I directed her. She knew what I was aiming for; the blade served as a weight so we could loop the dental floss out and around the door. She did as I asked, then handed me the magazine cover with the small blade tucked between the breasts of the puffy-haired cover model.
“I think I know her,” Flo’s chuckle ended in a cough. The smoke was getting so thick it was starting to turn the room gray. The door, too, was getting hot. Flo twisted the doorknob in order to keep the tongue from blocking the string, and I wrapped each end of the floss around my hands and jostled the ends up and down the side crack of the doorjamb until I could feel it encounter the flip lock on the other side. A flip lock is only effective because of the tension created when the metal flap is in its down, or locked, position flat against the door. To unlock it you simply have to lift the metal flap to release the tension in its hinges; this allows the metal flap to turn parallel to the doorjamb, leaving the door free to open.
“Here goes nothing,” I said, and yanked up on the thin loop of twine. We heard the flip lock pop up from its hinges and Flo threw open the door.
The conditions were dire. The only area not engulfed in flames was the bathroom where we were standing. I ran back inside, grabbed the
“Well, what the hell would MacGyver do?” Flo mused.
It was a legitimate question. Flo and I were both devoted fans of the old MacGyver TV series. We’d seen each episode at least four times, and some of our favorites up to ten. It had been our routine to watch two episodes each Wednesday night on Netflix, then quiz each other afterward. Flo in particular had an obsession that bordered on rabid. Long ago she’d tattooed “MacGyver” on her hip, and just this year she bought the actual houseboat that had been used as his home in the television series. She found it on eBay for just $36,000. Right now it’s docked at Grant’s Landing in Vancouver and uninhabitable, but it’s fun to go up there with her every few months or so to help her make repairs in the hopes that one day she may retire there, despite Flo’s adamant proclamation that she’ll retire when she’s dead.
At the thought of Flo dead, I shot into action, quickly rifling through the contents of the medicine cabinet, then looking under the sink. All I could find was four rolls of toilet paper, a 1981 issue of Playboy magazine, and a small container of dental floss. Perfect, I thought. I lifted the lid of the toilet and I tossed each roll of toilet paper into the water in order to quickly soak them through. Sodden rolls of toilet paper actually shrink in size but vastly increase in density, so the four of them end-to-end created a nice wet plug in order to keep the smoke and fire from seeping in from under the door. I left an opening about four inches wide directly under the doorknob, then ripped the cover from the magazine and slipped it through so it lay flat on the floor and flush next to the doorjamb, praying that the flames wouldn’t reach it.
Next I retrieved the knife blade that had broken from its handle when Flo stepped on Hackman’s hand earlier. It was a small paring blade, and I allowed myself a single cringe thinking about the agony it must have inflicted on poor Mr. Colgate, then I tied the blade to the end of the dental floss, anchoring the knot around a hole at its base, and slipped it through the crack at the top of the door.
Since this was an interior door there was no insulated stripping along the jamb, and the blade slipped through to the other side easily. I lowered it until I could feel it touch the magazine cover at the bottom. Luckily there was enough floss to traverse the length of the door as well as allow me to keep ahold of it from the other side.
“Flo, can you—gently—pull the magazine cover with the blade on top of it back inside the bathroom?” I directed her. She knew what I was aiming for; the blade served as a weight so we could loop the dental floss out and around the door. She did as I asked, then handed me the magazine cover with the small blade tucked between the breasts of the puffy-haired cover model.
“I think I know her,” Flo’s chuckle ended in a cough. The smoke was getting so thick it was starting to turn the room gray. The door, too, was getting hot. Flo twisted the doorknob in order to keep the tongue from blocking the string, and I wrapped each end of the floss around my hands and jostled the ends up and down the side crack of the doorjamb until I could feel it encounter the flip lock on the other side. A flip lock is only effective because of the tension created when the metal flap is in its down, or locked, position flat against the door. To unlock it you simply have to lift the metal flap to release the tension in its hinges; this allows the metal flap to turn parallel to the doorjamb, leaving the door free to open.
“Here goes nothing,” I said, and yanked up on the thin loop of twine. We heard the flip lock pop up from its hinges and Flo threw open the door.
The conditions were dire. The only area not engulfed in flames was the bathroom where we were standing. I ran back inside, grabbed the
Similar Books
