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The key glimmered as it caught the light.
Salvation.
“Quick, Jimmy,” she urged.
With the tape already weakened from heat, it didn’t take long for him to saw his way through it. The sense of relief Clara felt when it came away was almost overwhelming. Taking the key, she went to work on her other wrist. There was no time to waste. The key was bigger and sharper than the screw had been and soon she had her left wrist free, too. Ripping the remaining tape from her skin, she barely felt the sting of all the hairs being ripped out. Instead, she went straight to work on her ankles. She thought of nothing else, heard nothing else, saw nothing else as she was completely consumed by her task.
At last, she was rewarded with success.
The tape came free. She ripped it from her ankles, and then desperate to relish her hard-fought freedom, she pushed to her feet. Weak and light-headed, she swayed, but Jimmy’s hands grabbed her and steadied her. It didn’t take her long to get herself together.
She knew what she had to do.
She had to get the children out.
Dragging them with her to the door, she had little hope the key that had been left behind was the right one, but she tried it none the less. As expected, the door didn’t open. But hope was flowing through her now—nothing was going to make her give up.
Something long and thin—that was what she needed. Naomi had once taught her how to pick a lock; she wasn't sure she remembered everything, but surely she could recall enough to get the door open.
Her hair was loose, hanging down her back as it always was, but Katie’s hair was in braids. “Katie, are there any pins in your hair?”
The child just looked at her.
Not bothering to wait for the little girl to process her question, Clara ran her hands through the child’s hair and was rewarded with two pins. Her hands were shaking now, with fear, with excitement, with adrenalin. Pushing everything else aside, she focused every ounce of her concentration on the lock. She worked the pins this way and that until she was rewarded with a click. Naomi was going tolovethat her lock-picking techniques had stuck.
“You did it,” Jimmy looked at her in awe.
Taking each child by the hand, she dragged them down the stairs. Katie stumbled, but Clara didn’t stop—they didn’t have time to stop. Ruth and Job could reappear at any second. Jimmy kept pace with her as they darted down a hallway and then down another staircase.
A door.
Clara spotted a door.
“Come on,” she urged Katie, but the child was in shock and continued to stumble.
Then Clara heard a noise.
Footsteps.
Someone was coming.
Fear quickly wiped out the hope. They were going to get caughtthis closeto freedom. She couldn’t allow the children to be hurt. Placing Katie’s hand in Jimmy’s, she commanded, “Don’t stop. Not for anything,” and gave them a shove in the direction of the exit.
Jimmy hesitated, turned to look at her, not wanting to leave her alone.
“Go,” she ordered.
She could fight off Ruth and Job. They were elderly, and Job had only one leg and was ill, virtually confined to a wheelchair. The children were safe; she could catch up to them later.
She spun in circles, scanning the room, searching for anything she could use as a weapon. Her eyes settled on something, and she was taking a step toward it when something hit her in the back, knocking the air from her lungs.
“Sorry, Clara. They're replaceable, but you aren’t.”
Something slammed into her head, and she dropped.
* * * * *
5:31 A.M.
