Barely Legal

67

Melanie couldn’t get out. She’d come to that conclusion not without considerable experimentation. The window in the room was indeed nailed shut. There was no way she was moving the railroad spikes, even if she had something to pry them with, which she didn’t. If by some miracle she did manage to get the window open, she would face a two-story drop onto solid concrete. There was only a bare wall, nothing to climb down. As for smashing a pane and calling out, the window faced the back alley, not the street. There was no corresponding window in the house beyond, and the chances of anyone hearing her were nil.

The window was the only possible means of escape except for the door, which was always locked, except when that moron took her to the bathroom. Lou, as she’d heard them call him, wasn’t very big, but he had a gun. He always had it out when he opened the door, not like he needed it, but like he got a thrill out of carrying it. His lack of expertise was not comforting. He looked like he could shoot her by mistake.

Melanie was pretty sure she could overpower Lou if it weren’t for the gun. Just the element of surprise would give her the advantage, but she had to be a little more desperate before she tried it. And the longer she waited, the less he’d be expecting it.

The door opened and Melanie looked up from the bed. A thug stuck his head in the door and said, “Bathroom.”

It wasn’t Lou. It was another guy, slightly bigger, probably of equal intelligence. And he didn’t have a gun.

Melanie’s pulse quickened. If she was ever going to make a move, the time was now.

She got up from the bed, dispiritedly, and trudged out the door.

He walked behind her to the bathroom. She measured his steps. She spun suddenly, grabbed his wrist, and pulled down. Her other hand chopped down on his forearm.

He pulled back in pain and surprise.

She kicked him full out in the balls.

He doubled up in pain, and she dashed by him and darted down the stairs.

Lou was lounging on the couch. He lunged to his feet, grabbing for his gun.

She ran by him. The front door was unlocked. She flung it open, dashed out into the street, and yelled, “Help!” at the top of her lungs.

No one heard, no windows opened, no one came out any door, except for the armed thug who was right on her heels.

She reached the corner and turned right.

A car was coming down the street. There were two men in the front seat. Lou wouldn’t shoot her in front of witnesses. She ran straight at the car, waving her arms frantically.

The driver hit the brakes and skidded to a stop.

Chico and Gus got out of the car. Chico had a gun in his hand. He pointed it at her, looked at Lou, who was doubled up out of breath, and shook his head in disgust.

He swung the butt of the gun at her head and knocked her out.