Page 83 of Claiming Liberty
A woman named Allison alternates between banging her fist against the wooden door and jerking viciously at the handle. The two women on either side of her have been swapping out doing the same.
The panic in the room is palpable and consuming to the point it feels hard to breathe. Elsie trembles in my arms, and I squeeze her just to keep my own hands from shaking.
Several people sob, creating a nightmarish symphony that makes it impossible to hear any activity outside the room since the gunfire and loud booms that were clearly audible maybe fifteen minutes ago. They lasted for what felt like a while, a temporary hush filling the room as we silently imagined our own versions of what was happening outside. Although each of our images were surely different, we all exchanged excited looks, each of us hoping for the same thing. That Sawyer is the one to lose this fight to the death.
But then the sound stopped.
And then somebody smelled smoke.
“Please,” Allison cries, her fists weakly hitting the door. “Please let us out.”
“Can you smell it?” Elsie asks me, her voice soft and scared.
I look down to meet her eyes and shake my head, my face as neutral as it was before she asked the question.
I’m lying.
But I hope I’m wrong.
I keep telling myself the smell is in my head, and it could be. But the booms sounded a hell of a lot like blasts from something explosive, like grenades. We’re on the third floor in the biggest mansion I’ve ever seen out of a magazine or movie, and all of the excitement came from below us, so it wasn’t just gunfire downstairs. It was more. It was enough to start a fire.
“They’ll come get us when it’s safe,” I assure Elsie, lying again. It doesn’t much matter who wins this war if the ‘good guys’ don’t know where to find us, though. Not if the whole goddamn building burns to the ground.
Angel would look… But I think he might be dead.
My eyes close at that thought, and I hug Elsie to me.
“Somebody help!”
I open my eyes and find a woman with a tattoo sleeve screaming with her head back. She violently throws her body into the door like she’s going to break through it.
“Shut up!” Joan yells, silencing the room all at once.
In the quiet, the faint yells are easy to make out. They aren’t coming from downstairs. They’re at the same level as us.
The knots in my neck, chest, and stomach contract painfully when I realize it’s the women in the other rooms.
“Maybe we should all scream at the same time,” I suggest, my voice anything but hopeful. Why? Why am I giving up now?
Every other time my situation has felt hopeless, I still fought. Now isn’t the time to lay down.
I clear my throat and stand from one of four mattresses, the only furniture in the room. Elsie clings for a moment but then let’s go.
“What are you doing?” Elsie asks.
“We’re here!” I scream. “We’re up here!”
Joan waves her arms in an upward motion to those who haven’t been throwing themselves at shit in a panic. “Everyone up, join in. Make as much noise as you can.”
The women hop to their feet and join me with their screams. Elsie rises and screeches at the tops of her lungs, stomping and jumping along with others. The noise from the other rooms completely drowns out, but I hope they follow our lead.
Tattoo drums the wall with her palms, and several others join in. There aren’t any windows, and there isn’t a single thing other than the clothes on our backs and the mattresses in here, so all we have to make noise are our voices and our bodies.
“No!” The shriek pierces the air, standing out from the rest enough to break my concentration. My eyes find the source … a woman who’s jumping up and down in horror, pointing to the bottom of the door.
I follow her finger, and when I see the smoke snaking in through the small space, terror curls through my veins like a thick fog.
And then all hell breaks loose.