Page 167 of Running to You

She turned to the window and stuck the metal through the slats. It caught on the wool, but all the shoving and tugging she could manage didn’t tear it.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” She heard a smile in Sam’s voice and wondered if it was genuine or if he was trying to keep her calm.

How in the world were Sam and the rest of them going to get in? She backed up to give the camera a view of what she’d been attempting—and so far failed—to do. “This is harder than it looks.”

“What exactly are you trying to do?” Mom asked.

“Get us out of here.” She jabbed at the wool, but it had almost no give.

“Our plan’s in place, Eliza.” Now it was Jon’s voice. “If you can let some light out your window, then we’ll know where you are. And show us how those boards are attached. We might have to pull you four out that way. We’re muting again.”

The voices in her ear went silent.

The voices behind her, not so much.

“I’m telling you,” Nicole said, “she has a plan.”

“If she does, then she’ll tell us when the time is right.” Mom’s confident tone was so surprising, Eliza paused to take it in. Mom really had changed.

She prayed her mother’s confidence was well founded.

The window covering refused to tear, despite the fact that Eliza was working up a sweat in the chilly air.

Think.

The wool was stapled down, and most of the staples were behind the boards. But maybe she could get access to one between the wood. It was too dark to see much, so she pressed the metal piece between the boards at the edge of the window, moving from gap to gap, praying for the telltale catch of metal.

Finally, standing on the bed to reach high on the window, she caught one.

She shoved the end of the spring against it and dug into the wood. It took a long time—a long time—but then, the staple gave way. She worked it out, then pushed the tool behind the fabric and pulled.

And got the slightest glimpse of window.

“Did you get it?” Nicole asked. “Are they coming? Please, tell me someone’s coming.” The hitch, the desperation, made Eliza’s heart hurt.

She stared at the tiny space she’d made and waited.

After a moment, Sam said, “We’re not seeing it.”

Fine, then. She kept working at it. And working. And…there. A bigger opening. She angled so the camera could see.

In her ear, Jon said, “Move away from the window so the light can come through.”

She did and was rewarded with Jon’s soft, “Gotcha. I’ll be back with a countdown. Muting again.”

Thank God.

She turned her attention to the boards. Maybe she could pry them out. She shoved the tool beneath the end of one and levered with the opposite end of the spring. Did it move? She thought maybe…

“Please, Eliza,” Nicole said. “Tell us what’s going on.”

“Quiet.” And there was Mom’s disapproving voice. Eliza was glad it wasn’t directed at her. “Eliza’s working on something. Leave her be.”

“Why, though?” Nicole’s voice rose, nearly a shout. “What’s the point? If there’s nobody out there, even if we get the window open, we won’t make it fifty feet before they shoot us in the back.”

“Keep your voice down,” Eliza snapped,

“Why?” If anything, she got louder. “The sooner they kill us, the better.”