A sweet aroma enters my nose, and Bear barks again. Goose bumps break out over my skin, sending a chilling shiver up my spine.
The smell, pungent and sharp, gets stronger.
I’m not sure where it’s coming from, but I recognize it easily.
Gasoline.
My stomach drops.
In a full sprint, I run to the doors and tug on the handles, but they don’t open. Instead, there’s a metallic rattle on the other side.
I’m locked in.
My pulse stutters.
Bear works to claw at the wood. When that doesn’t work, he begins using his teeth. The horses in their stalls whinny and snort, stomping their hooves in alarm.
No.
No, no, no.
“Javier!” I shout in a panic. “Javier!”
Only the frantic cries of the horses answer me.
Where is he? He should just be around the corner. He should be able to hear me.
Breathe, Blake. Fucking breathe.
Panicking isn’t working. The guys are on their way, but who knows how long they’ll take.
Turning in a circle, I search for something I can use.
Riding blanket? No.
Grooming supplies? No.
Sledgehammer? Hell yes.
I don’t know who left that against the first stall, but God bless this forgotten tool.
Heaving the heavy hand tool, I lift it over my shoulder and lug it toward the door. I give it a swing, but all that results is a bang. Not even a loud bang because the ruckus around me drowns out the sound.
Examining where I hit the door, I find that I didn’t even make a dent. I dig deep and lift the sledgehammer again.
After a few more hits, I have loosened one of the planks. Sweat drips down the side of my face. Dropping the sledgehammer, I find I can push the single plank a couple of inches, giving me a limited view of the outside.
A wet drop lands on my finger, causing me to draw back. I rub the liquid between my fingers and sniff.
Definitely gasoline.
Pushing the plank again, I peer through the crack and freeze. Another wave of chills numbs my body.
He stands there in the cold, watching me. A bright red gas can hangs in his hand at his side. In his other hand, he fiddles with a lighter. Flicking it on and off.
On.
Off.
