Page 105 of Existential
He widens his eyes, jerking his head to the bed in question.
Oh, snap. Of course. I lower to my knees, slow and careful not to make sudden noises. Using the bed to brace myself with one arm, I peer under.
A single metal loop cuts a definite line through the worn carpet. If I hadn’t been looking for it, I might have missed the handle. But there it is, clear as day, a trapdoor.
Of course: the house probably has more than one “safe zone” in case of intruder when the slaves are in transit.
I stand and grip the foot of the bed, sliding it carefully away from the wall. Crackers steps in the gap and grabs the headboard, guiding it sideways as we shift it toward the window. Murphy joins us, hanging back in the doorway as I raise my gun ready for whatever I’m about to find and reach for the handle.
Crackers steps forward, foot on the trapdoor, and places his hand over mine. “I’ll do it, brother.”
I nod, well aware what he’s offered is worth more than a humble thanks. If Dagne’s hurt, injured, or if the worst has happened … I’m guaranteed to lose control, which is something I need if we’re to keep on top of Digits.
Crackers lifts the square panel and shifts it over the carpet toward the bed. He moves around the hole, checking all angles before he tentatively places a foot on the ladder that’s fixed to the outside wall of the basement.
Seconds pass, minutes stretch on, and all the while I feel chills worse than any the detox from coke and heroin gave me. Murphy moves to the trapdoor and squats, tipping his ear to listen closer.
Crackers’ gun emerges into the light first, followed quickly and noisily by his head and shoulders.
“They were there,” he says with an apology in his eyes, “but he’s taken her somewhere else.”
“How do you know?”
He lifts his other hand, the strap of Dagne’s bag clear as he lifts it above ground. I drop to my knees and grab the flimsy fucking thing in my hands as my body shakes with rage.
“Trust your brothers,” you’re taught from the get go. Believe in the club.
Only thing I fucking believe in right now is slow and painful death.