AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I’m brushing out my hair in front of the mirror when I hear it.
Pop.
I freeze.
It sounds like a gunshot.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
My stomach contracts into a ball. That’s definitely gunfire. The echo ripples through the valley. The sounds come from a distance, but that doesn’t reassure me, not when a war breaks out and shots are fired left, right, and center.
Dropping the hairbrush, I grab the phone from the dresser and dial Angelo’s number. A beep sounds in my ear before a voice recording comes through the line.
The number you dialed does not exist. Please consult your telephone directory.
What?
The phone shakes in my hand as I stare dumbfoundedly at it.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
The bedroom windows look out over the sea. I throw down the phone and run to the guest room on the opposite side of the hallway where the windows give a view of the hills and the road. I peer out into the darkness, not switching on the light, and then I break out in a cold sweat.
The forest is alight with the sparks of a gunfight. Like a string of firecrackers, the lights blast through the denseness of the trees. I’m frozen to the spot, taken over by terror. It’s much closer than I thought, just a few hundred meters from the house.
Shit.
Plastering my back against the wall, I try to think through my panic. I have no idea what’s happening out there, but I can’t stay to find out.
I have to run.
I’ll grab the other phone, call Roch, and sneak out the back. I can make my way to the beach via the secret path and use the bike to escape to the village. Hopefully, by then, Roch would’ve figured out a way of warning Angelo.
There’s no time to dress in something warmer. I sprint to the dressing room and grab the first jacket my hand falls on. It’s one of Angelo’s jackets, but I don’t stop to find something more suitable. I only pause long enough to fit a pair of sneakers without socks. Making my way down the stairs, I pull the jacket on in the run. The nights are still freezing cold. It would be stupid to risk it outside in nothing but a thin T-shirt.
The ground level lights are on, but the blinds are closed. I skid to a halt in the lounge and go down on my knees in front of the air vent. Hooking my fingers through the gaps in the metal lid, I pull. Damn. It’s stuck. I yank so hard I nearly tear off a nail when I fall back and land on my ass. Blood pools under the nail that’s lifted off the nail bed, but I barely feel it. I look around frantically for something to use. Nothing.
Shit, shit, shit.
Taking a calming breath, I try again. I wiggle the lid until it gives in one corner. Finally, the cover comes off, hitting the floor with a clang. I jerk at the noise. My heart nearly jumps out of my chest. I feel inside for the phone, but in my haste to grab it, I only shove it deeper into the vent.
Fuck.
Something strikes me then. I stop to listen. The gunfire has gone quiet. Only an eerie silence stretches.
Almost hyperventilating with fear, I stick my arm into the vent and extend it as far as I can. Finally, my fingertips brush over the rounded edge of the phone. I stretch until it feels as if I’m tearing my arm from its socket and finally manage to close my fingers around the phone. I’m pulling it out with a shaky hand when the deafening sound of splintering wood explodes in the space and the front door falls inward with a bang. Cold air gushes inside, and then, quietness.
I slam a hand over my mouth to prevent myself from screaming. My body trembles convulsively as I make myself small behind the sofa, but my shadow falls under the side table over the floor.
Please, don’t let them see me.
I repeat the silent prayer as I try not to breathe for fear of making a sound. If they go upstairs, I can run through the door.
Heavy footsteps fall on the floor. The first person is followed by a second and a third. It sounds like three men and big ones judging by how hard their soles are pounding the wooden boards. It’s impossible to remain calm, but I force myself to act, to push the on-button on the phone and wait for the screen to come to life.
The worst mistake I made was not familiarizing myself with the functions. It takes me another three seconds to find the caller list. My fingers don’t cooperate. I’m shaking too much to type a message on the press buttons.
“Check upstairs,” a deep voice says. “You go that way. She must be inside.”
