Sound of Survival (Book 3): Home Free

by Patten, Sean

  “And then what?” she asked. “Just sit around all day while we wait for something to happen? What if Mom’s in danger right now and David knows where she is? What if—”

  “Amy,” I said, making my voice as stern as I could. “We need to play this smart. And we need to have some energy. Like I said, I’m ready to help you out. But we’ve got to figure out what we’re up against before we act. Because if we screw this up…”

  I let my words trail off. I didn’t need to finish.

  “Okay,” she said. “Fine. We can wait. But one day’s all I can spend not doing anything.”

  I felt the tension melt out of me.

  “Good,” I said. “Glad you’re seeing things my way.”

  I glanced up at the stairs. “Why don’t you head to bed and try to get some rest. You and I can get up bright and early and figure out our next step over some breakfast. Sound good?”

  “Sounds…sounds good.”

  I could tell she wasn’t entirely pleased, but it was the best she was going to get. I was glad I’d been able to talk some sense into her.

  “Now,” I said, kicking off my boots and laying back on the couch. “I need some shuteye more than I’ve needed just about anything. Wake me up if anything happens.”

  “Sure,” she said, her voice soft.

  I closed my eyes, listening as she got up, followed by the sound of her steps on the stairs.

  And despite how much my mind was racing, I was out in seconds.

  20 Amy

  Like hell I was going to wait around.

  If there was even the slightest chance that Mom was in danger and I could do something about it, sleep was going to be the last thing on my mind.

  The more I thought about David’s story, the more like bullshit it seemed. He wanted me to believe that my 63-year-old mother wandered out of her gated community on foot to try to trek all the way to LA on her own knowing that the odds of me being there were slim to none?

  She’d always told me, even when things were rough between us, that this was always my home, and that she’d always been here waiting for me. I had no reason to think that had changed.

  I laid in bed, still fully dressed, my hands behind my head, waiting until I was good and sure that Ed would be out. After what felt to me like an hour had gone by, I hopped up and onto my feet. I felt ready and alert, eager to get to the bottom of whatever was going on here in Sandy Vista.

  I stepped over to the window, opened it up and stuck my head out. I wasn’t sure what I expected—the drop down to the ground was as steep as it’d ever been. Just like every other time I’d snuck out of the house, I’d have to do it the hard way.

  After picking up my sneakers and checking to make sure I had the multi-tool, I carefully and quietly opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway. I’d snuck out enough times to know the tricks: be barefoot, walk on the sides of your feet, and make sure you stepped as close to the wall as possible. Hell, I’d even done it enough times to know exactly where on the floor to tread to prevent it from creaking.

  Slowly, I made my way down the stairs. Sure enough, Ed was there on the couch, his mouth slacked open wide as he slept soundly, loud snores ripping through the air.

  Something about the sight of him there took me back to my childhood, back to whenever Mom and Dad would have a fight and he would sleep on the couch just like Ed was doing now. I was too young to sneak out of the house then, only down to the kitchen to steal whatever treats Mom didn’t want me getting into. For a moment I stood still, feeling like I’d been pulled back in time.

  Get it together, Amy, I thought. No time to worry about that now.

  I snapped myself out of my nostalgic daze and turned my attention to the kitchen. Shoes in hand, I made my way through the living room, using Ed’s loud snoring to muffle my footsteps. The gun on the table caught my attention, but something felt wrong about taking it. And there was always the chance that Ed would need it. So, I left it and stepped into the kitchen and to the door leading to the backyard.

  Satisfaction took hold as soon as I was outside and home free.

  “Still got it,” I said with a grin.

  But there were more important things to concern myself with than patting myself on the back. I needed to make my way to David’s place, sneak in, and find out what I could.

  It wasn’t the most perfect plan in the world, but I figured that if Mr. Powell’s place had held the secrets that it had, then David’s house had to have all of the answers that I was looking for. I was going to get to the bottom of whatever the hell was going on in Sandy Vista. Nothing was going to stop me.

  Just like Ed and I had when sneaking into Mr. Powell’s place, I made my way from backyard to backyard. Without having to wait for Ed I was able to move faster, and before too long I was at the tall, wrought-iron fence that separated David’s place from the rest of the houses.

  Looking through the fence, I laid eyes on the massive stretch of lawn that David’s three-story home was situated upon. The rest of the houses in the development were nice, no doubt about it. But David’s was the crown jewel of the street. Tall and stately and painted in a proud, beaming white, the place loomed over every other house. Things in the neighborhood had all seemed a little smaller since coming back, but David’s house was an exception. It was just as big and imposing as ever.

  My skinny body came in handy for once, the spaces between the fence bars narrow enough for me to barely slip through. Once on the other side, I went over to the lock and opened the gate up just a bit in case I needed to make a quick escape. My heart beating fast, I cut across the huge, manicured lawn and to the French doors on the terrace that led into the house.

  Normally, David’s place would’ve been loaded down with all kinds of security. As I stepped onto the terrace I remembered the time one of the neighbor’s dogs had managed to sneak into the backyard and ended up tripping some kind of motion detector. Even with how cut off from the rest of the word Sandy Vista was it had still taken barely any time at all for the cops to show up.

  But not now. With the power out even an amateur cat burglar like me could sneak into the place.

  That is, if I could find some way to get in.

  Once on the terrace, I stepped back and looked around at the imposing rear façade of the house. For a moment, I wondered if I was sunk, if there was no way to get in but to smash a rock through a window and hope the sound wasn’t enough to wake David.

  But as I looked the scene over, I realized something. The windows!

  “Yes!” I hissed under my breath.

  Sure enough, nearly every window was open. Made sense. In the desert you’d want to let all the hot air out at night and the cool in, then close the windows to keep it trapped. But the reasons didn’t matter. All that did was that I had an easy way into a house that would otherwise be nearly impregnable.

  I picked the nearest window and slipped my body through it, landing softly on the carpeted floor on the other side. Once in, I took in the sight of David’s house.

  It was huge—a damn mansion. The ceilings were tall, the furniture was stylish and expensive-looking, and a nearby wet bar was fully stocked with expensive liquor. As I looked around and took in the sight of the castle where David lived I was almost, almost able to empathize with him for being so eager to keep what remained of his way of life intact.

  Almost.

  The sight of a huge hunting shotgun above the large, marble fireplace snapped me back into reality. Sure, my break-in was going fine so far, but if David were to spot me sneaking around I knew it could all go south very, very quickly. He struck me as the type to shoot first and ask questions later, especially if there happened to be anything in his place worth protecting.

  I had no idea where to begin. The house was so huge that it would’ve taken me all night just to cover one of the floors. And more time I spent wandering around, the greater the chances of David walking up and catching me.

  So, the discovery in Mr. Powell�
��s basement still fresh in my mind, I decided to start downstairs.

  I made my way through the entertainment room, angling my body around the pool table and fancy leather couches. This led into the large dining room, which itself led to the enormous kitchen, a space that would’ve made any chef mad with envy.

  And there it was. A large, imposing door that appeared to lead downstairs. There was a heavy padlock on it, one that looked like it’d be difficult to break through. But as I approached I realized that the key to it was still stuck in the lock. Looked like David had gotten a little sloppy.

  I wasn’t about to second-guess my good luck. I gave the key a twist, opening the lock and carefully removing it from the door. I set it down nearby and opened the door slowly.

  Just like at Mr. Powell’s, cool, musty air greeted me as I opened the door. But this time, Ed wasn’t with me to take the edge off the fear of knowing I was about to descend into darkness. Anything or anyone could’ve been down there. As I placed my foot onto the first step, I had nightmare visions of seeing David down there, armed with the same mean-looking rifle he’d had that morning, but this time ready and eager to use it.

  I went down one step at a time, my gut tensing more and more the further I went. About halfway down I decided to take out the multi-tool, extending the blade and holding it out in front of me towards the darkness.

  Stab and twist, I thought. Just stab and twist.

  Before too long I was at the bottom. The basement was like a cave, but somehow darker. And unlike Powell’s basement, only the slightest traces of moonlight were visible.

  Holding my hands out in front of me, I walked blindly, fear creeping through my body. It was difficult to see a damn thing, but I could tell from the echoes of my footsteps that the space was expansive. Part of me wanted to go back and find some source of light before I went in too deep and risked becoming lost. I imagined hearing David’s footsteps at the top of the stairs, followed by the door shutting and the lock clicking.

  My plan sucked, I realized then. I’d gotten so wrapped up in sneaking out on my own that I’d forgotten about basic necessities like, I don’t know, how to get around in the dark.

  Lucky for me, my arm flailing paid off. My hand shot into the darkness and connected with a plastic shape that fell over onto its side with a thud. The sounds were familiar to my ear, like something landing on cardboard box.

  I moved in the direction of the sound and fumbled with my hands. Sure enough, there was a large stack of cardboard boxes. And on top of the stack was exactly what I needed: a flashlight. David must’ve set it there the last time he’d come into the basement.

  I slipped my multi-tool into my pocket before eagerly wrapping my hands around the thing, my face lighting up with excitement as I fumbled for the “on” switch. Once I hit it, a bright beam of light illuminated the end of the flashlight and cut through the darkness. I stood there for a moment just savoring my new tool; finally, a bit of good luck.

  A noise from somewhere in the basement snapped me out of my happy spell. I clicked the light off, my blood running cold as I worried that I might’ve been spotted by someone.

  But who? If David were down here, something told me he wouldn’t have made his presence a mystery.

  I froze in my tracks, listening for what I’d heard. Silence returned, and for a moment I allowed myself to believe that I’d simply heard things, maybe the house settling or an animal outside.

  The exact second I turned the flashlight on, however, I heard it again. This time it was unmistakable. It was a moan, a human noise.

  Someone was in the basement with me.

  My heart pounded, my hands shook. The beam of light was pointed up at the ceiling, and I knew that I had the power to cast the light forward and find out exactly what was making the sound.

  And then I heard it again. It was a soft sound, a muffled voice, like a mouth trying to speak.

  I had to find out what was down there.

  I took a deep, steeling breath and slowly, slowly, lowered the beam until it was illuminating a cone of light in front of me, dust motes dancing in the otherwise still air. Ahead there was nothing, just more boxes stacked up against the far wall about thirty feet away. Concrete support pillars were here and there, and strings dangled from the useless lights above.

  “Mhmffhm!!”

  It was ahead, to my right. My body acted before my brain had a chance to, and the beam pointed in the direction of the noise.

  Sure enough, there was someone there, and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

  It was Mom.

  21 Amy

  The flashlight fell from my hand, the darkness taking Mom away the moment I’d finally laid eyes on her. A clatter of plastic on concrete echoed through the basement, the light spinning around on the ground as the flashlight came to a stop. My eyes fixed on the darkness ahead, I dropped down to my knees and fumbled for the flashlight.

  “Mmmffh! Mmm!!”

  I was weak in the knees, my hands shaking as they wrapped around the light. Once I had hold of the thing I stuck it out in front of me as though it were a magical talisman and I were warding away some kind of monster. I wanted it to be Mom, more than anything. But I was terrified at what I might see.

  The light caught a figure, and I turned my head towards it. It was her, all right. Twenty feet ahead of me, dressed in dirty clothes, her sandy-blond hair matted down with sweat, her trim frame appearing smaller than it already did, was my mom.

  “Mom!” I shot out, my voice carrying through the basement.

  I ran forward, cutting the distance between us in seconds, the light bouncing wildly in the dark as I gripped the flashlight as hard as I could. I dropped to my knees and looked at her with wide, disbelieving eyes.

  I almost felt like she wasn’t real, as though she was some kind of hallucination that would vanish the moment I put my hands on her. But she wasn’t. It was Mom. Her bare arms were cool and clammy, her mouth bound by a dirty handkerchief.

  With my free hand I set to work on the binding over her mouth, fumbling with the extremely well-tied knot for several moments before realizing it was a job better suited for the multi-tool. Once the blade was out, Mom’s worried eyes latching onto it, I gently, carefully, reached around her and sliced through the thick knot of fabric.

  The second it loosened she spat it out, the fabric falling slowly down to the ground.

  “Amy!” she said, her voice sharp and low. “I…I can’t…”

  Her voice trailed off, her excited eyes moving all over my body. It seemed that however much I was convinced that Mom wasn’t real, it was double for her.

  “Amy…” she said, shaking her head in total disbelief. “Amy…”

  “It’s me, Mom,” I said. “It’s really me.”

  To prove the point, I threw my arms around her and held her tight.

  Having her finally there with me felt so good I could hardly stand it. Tears formed in my eyes as I held her smaller, frailer body against mine.

  “It’s really you,” she said, her voice faint.

  “It’s really me,” I repeated. “I’m here.”

  Seeing her again was overwhelming. But I knew that more than anything I needed to get her out of there.

  “My baby,” she said, still taking in the sight of me. “I thought…I thought I’d lost you… I thought I’d lost you for good.”

  “You didn’t,” I said. “Because I’m right here. And I’m going to get you out of here.”

  I was so shocked to see Mom, and so focused on getting her out of her bindings that it only faintly occurred to me how strange it was that she was in David’s basement. And tied up, at that.

  But that was something to be puzzled out later, when the two of us were safely out of there.

  I reached around, pointing the flashlight at where Mom’s hands were bound. My gut sank as I realized that she was restrained to the cement column behind her with heavy-duty handcuffs. Getting her free from those was going to be a hell of
a lot harder than removing her mouth gag had been.

  “Shit,” I hissed, grabbing the chain connecting the cuffs and tugging it hard. “Is there a key?”

  “Yes,” said Mom. “But David has it with him. I mean, I assume he does. He didn’t need it to put these damn things on me.”

  “There has to be something,” I said, waving the light through the basement. “There has to be—”

  I shrieked as my light landed on what appeared to be someone else in the basement.

  “Shh!” said Mom. “You need to be quiet!”

  She was right. As shocked as I was, there was still the matter of waking up David. Keeping the light steady in my hand, I pointed it in the direction of the figure. Sure enough, there was someone else tied up in the basement.

  “Is that…” I started.

  “Sorry,” said Mom. “I should’ve told you. I just got so wrapped up in seeing you again that I…”

  Her voice trailed off, and my eyes stayed locked onto the form.

  “Mr. Powell?”

  He was still as a statue, and for a moment I worried he was dead. But he’d only been sleeping, the light of the beam waking him up. As soon as he realized what was going on, his eyes went wide and he began struggling wildly against his restraints.

  “Mr. Powell!” I said, running over to him.

  I took out the tool and gave him the same treatment, yanking off the binding once I’d sliced through it and tucking the multi-tool back into my pocket.

  “Amy!” he said. “Thank God. You have to get us out of here!”

  “I know!” I said. “I don’t know how to cut through these things!”

  “There’s a toolkit over there,” Mr. Powell said, nodding his head towards the darkness. “It should have a set of wire cutters in it.”

  I pointed the flashlight into the darkness and, sure enough, there was a small craft-working station on the other side of the basement. Most of the heavy-duty tools that needed power were likely useless, but lucky for me I didn’t need any of them.