Killer Summer

62

Balanced atop the file boxes, the knife wedged between the boards and prying, Kevin at first thought his efforts looked promising as the boards began pulling loose. But then an unwilling nail cried out, sending a chill through him that was like biting down on an ice cube. He moved the tip of the knife closer to the nail and tried again and again it squealed. If he kept this up, the sound would bring them running.

Discouraged, he pounded his fist on the closet door.

“Let me out of here!” he shouted.

It was a futile, childish outburst, but the longer he remained inside the dark closet, the greater his growing sense of panic. He was no lover of confined spaces, and the closet felt ever smaller by the minute.

His father-or had it been his Uncle Walt?-once told him that “everything happens for a reason.” He dismissed the platitude at the time the same way he dismissed anything an adult said. But now things were different. With the words reverberating in his head, he tried to clear his thought. He had a spark of realization. Now he understood.

Everything happens for a reason… even childish outbursts.

He stuck the knife between the boards again and kicked the closet door.

“LET ME OUT OF HERE!” he hollered even louder, yanking the knife down, the nail crying out and the board coming free, the sound covered by his petulant plea.

“PLEASE!” he screamed, grabbing the board and pulling down, his cry timed perfectly.

The board came loose in his hands.