“Battery-powered, no oil.” She positioned the lamps close to his bed—but not as near as before—and proceeded to carefully lift and then roll up the blanket. She pulled a large, thin black sheet from a pouch in her shirt. As she did so, some of the strips she’d used to tie him to the bed fell out of her pocket. She shook out the sheeting, opening it to a large bag.
She stuffed the blanket inside then swept up the glass shards, depositing them in the bag.
After righting the table, she plunked his water container on top of it and motioned to the bucket.
He picked it up. The urine had soaked into the hard-packed ground. The odor would linger for a long time.Hopefully, I’ll be able to escape and won’t have to smell it for very long.
Hands on her hips, she eyed him. “Trust is in short supply. You don’t entirely believe me when I tell you I’m not sick, well, I’m not convinced the Progg haven’t moved into Big Creek.
“So, I’m going to check out your story. If you’re telling the truth, I’ll be back. If you’re lying, and I get vaporized, you’re going to starve to death. Now, is there something you wish to tell me before I go?”
“I told you the truth.”
“Fine.” She marched out, taking the black sack with her. He eyed the white strips she’d dropped on the floor.Better wait a bit.
A minute later, she stomped in, dropped several of the dry, tasteless food bars onto the table, topped off his water, and left again.
He hoped, for his sake, she didn’t encounter anybody.
He’d told her no lies, but he hadn’t told her the whole truth. Having searched months for his people without success made itunlikelyshe would encounter a Progg but not impossible. Like he had, someone might enter the town to find food. He prayed to Zok that didn’t happen because if it did, he’d kill Laurel, and Grav would starve.
The strips on the floor called to him, but he held back.Give it more time. Make sure she’s gone.
He didn’t wish to die byanymeans. He never realized how much dying terrified him. Protected by military superiority and blessed with a strong constitution assisted by medical intelligence, he hadn’t had to face death. When you always won, you had no idea what losing felt like.
Within a short period of time, he’d been shot, possibly had been exposed to a fatal illness, and now faced starvation.
I hope she’s not carrying the plague.He eyed the white strips.Enough time has passed. It’s safe.
He leaped off the bunk and snatched up the white ties. He tested the strength, pulling on one with both hands. Too strong to break. He inserted the tip into the hole. It just slid around. He tried again another way. It locked.
Ah…simple, but ingenious.Insert one way and little teeth caught, and it couldn’t be undone. Insert it backward, and it could be removed.
Unfortunately for Laurel, she’d allowed him too much freedom of movement.
Compassion will undermine you every time.
He lifted a corner of the mattress at the head of the bed. Metal rails supported wooden slats upon which the mattress rested. He ran his hands along the rail. Smooth. No help there. He placed the ties on a slat and lowered the mattress.
He inspected the bedposts. No rough edges. He tore a food bar open and grimaced as he bit into it then set the others on the mattress and placed the water on the floor away from the urine stain. He lifted the metal table onto his lap. Very lightweight. No wonder he’d knocked it over so easily.
No sharp edges. He tested the sturdiness. He might be able to break off a leg but doubted he could do anything with it before she returned. She’d be sure to notice a table with a missing leg.
He set it down. As he bent to retrieve his water, he spied a long, big silver object under the bed pushed to the far side.
By raising the mattress, he used his feet to drag it forward and out from under the bed. A ladder. The flat rungs, theirsharpedges bent downward, were screwed in. To his delight, the screws on the lowest rung were loose. He undid the screws and pulled the rung loose.
He shoved the ladder under the bed. While finishing off the power bar, he eyed the chain, contemplating which would be the least noticeable link. Then he began sawing on the link with the sharp rung, keeping an ear cocked for Laurel’s return. If she went to the town, she should be gone a while, but he couldn’t count on it.
After a couple of minutes of sawing, he’d achieved no headway.This is going to take time.
All I have is time.
He continued sawing. It felt seditious, treasonous to admit even to himself that he would miss her when he left.I hope you survive, little human.
Chapter Seven
Trust, but verify.The Russian proverb had been made famous by a former president. Decades dead, Ronald Reagan hadn’t been around to witness the apocalypse, but his words lived on. She would go to town to verify if Grav had been telling the truth.
