Hungersnot
I cut the connection. I pulled the apple out of my pocket, my hand shaking. I needed to eat it. The smell was intoxicating. I shut my eyes and opened my mouth.
The doorbell rang. I startled and dropped the apple. Somebody pounded on my door. Nobody did that, except Donald. How did he get here so fast?
I heard the sound of a fierce wind. Donald appeared outside my bedroom window. The window was fifteen feet off the ground. He had to be standing in…damn…he was standing mid-air. Crap. Where was Artie?
Donald pounded on my window. He was going to break it. Where was the damned apple? It had rolled under the bed. I dropped to my knees. Come on Artie. Use your archangel magic, you old fool.
I grabbed the apple. The crash of breaking glass blasted me up and out the door. I ran down the hall to the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind me. The laundry chute. Could I? Donald hammered on the bathroom door. I heard the wood crack. I dove down the laundry chute head first. If I broke my neck at the bottom, it would be a blessing.
It was a tight fit. I slid slowly. Too slowly. Donald grabbed my foot. He got my shoe. I kicked it free and tumbled into a pile of laundry. I headed for the back door. No. He’d be waiting there.
The furnace room. I stumbled down the stairs, slid into the furnace room and shut the door. I dragged my little freezer across it. I squeezed behind the furnace. Maybe I could make it to the crawl space under the back of the house. The turn buttons holding the panel in place were old and rusted. I tore my fingers twisting them open. The last one finally moved as I heard the furnace room door explode.
I knew I was done for. I fell into the crawl space and landed on my shoulder in the damp gravel. It smelled like a family of skunks had died in there. Somewhere on the back wall there should have been access to the outside. The crawl space had no lights, so I scuttled ahead, my arms outstretched. I had to hit a wall sooner or later.
Donald crashed and banged in the furnace room. Tight fit behind the furnace. That wouldn’t slow him down long. I jolted up against cold concrete. I felt for the access door. Two by fours and insulation, but no door. I hit a corner and flailed back toward the other corner. The access door had to be there. It had to be.
A hand grabbed my shoulder.
I screamed.
“Eat the damn apple.”
“Artie?”
Loading...