Behind the Walls

I scrambled to the broken window, poker still in hand, gasping for air. I looked down.

He was thrashing in the mud, making wet, gurgling noises. Then he stopped.

I didn't wait to check his pulse. I ran to the front door, realizing now why

it hadn't opened. He had superglued the lock from the inside. I could smell the

cyanoacrylate. He had sealed me in while I was in the basement. I went back to the

broken window, carefully climbed over the shards of glass, and dropped into

the wet grass. I ran to my van, hands shaking so badly I dropped the keys twice.

I locked the doors, started the engine, and reversed down that driveway at forty miles an hour,