She stood up, and did a quick inventory of her injuries, finding only superficial scrapes and a few bruises she knew would hurt tomorrow, she dusted herself of and looked around. Shattered glass and plaster dust covered the ground, and she stepped as carefully as she could in her heels, trying to avoid further injury.
Her once lovely, professionally decorated office, lay in ruins around her, as she went to her safe and withdrew her mached brace of .357 Smith and Wesson Revolvers and the .38 Lady Smith she kept in an ankle holster for emergencies, this definitely qualified.
Armed, she felt slightly better, although she regretted not putting in the range time she had been promising herself. "Still", she thought aloud "better armed and minimally trained than unarmed and untrained, right?"
The sound of her voice in the silence startled her. "The silence?" she thought, to herself this time "why aren't the alarms shrieking?" No light came in from the broken windowpaines, not unusual for 11 pm, but the windows did bring to mind the fact that she needed to get out of the office, preferably before the gas mains in the basement blew sky high.
arehanded, she tried to open the window, quickly drawing back in pain from the shards of glass still embedded in the framing. "OWCH!"
Recognising how stupid a move she had just made, Shelia brushed her hair out of her face and looked at her hands, making sure none of the fragments of glass remained.
"Think, Think, Think, you are an intelligent woman, even if you are talking to yourself, alone, in a building that has just been..." her voice trailed off, as the reization dawned on her that she was unaware of what exactly had happened prior to standing up.
"Ok, think about that later...first, get out of the office"
She grabed the lightweight leather motorcycle jacket, one of her assistants had left behind at the end of the day from the sofa, and wrapped her hands carefully in it, struggling to get the remainder of glass out of the window.
As soon as she had cleared the frame to the best of her ability, she stuck her head out and looked at the 10ft drop to the street below.
She laid the jacket over the sill, then stretched her long, slender legs carefully out over the ledge, then she stopped, realising the risk to her ankles from wearing heels in the jump, and kicked them off, listening to the "clump, clump" as they hit the concrete below.
Swallowing hard, she wriggled her hips to get her rear as close to the edge of the ledge as she could, then rolled onto her belly, for once thanking God she had been cursed with a small bosom.
Sliding backward, like a snake, feeling the warm silk of her blouse slide up against her skin, and the cold leather replace it, she shivered, involuntarily. She braced her hands on either side of the window frame, praying she had a good enough grip as she felt with her now stocking clad feet for a toehold on the rough brick of the building.
"It's only a 5 foot drop, it's only a 5 foot drop, you CAN do this Shelia" she whispered through clenched teeth, her aquamarine eyes filling with tears. Finally, unable to find a toe-hold, she dropped, landing uncemoniously on her butt.
Vaguely remembering something about Gas explosions from a newscast, she got to her feet carefully, then put her heels back on, and ran as fast as she could, away from the building to the 200 ft they had made her go during School Fire Drills.
She fell, twice, skinning her hands and knees, and splitting her lip.
Bloodied, bruised, and more than a little terrified, she tried to figure out what to do next.
Her car, a cute late model Honda, sat a few feet away she realised as her eyes adapted to the absence of light. Of course, her keys still were in the office, but she had her guns...
Bracing in the stance her Dad had taught her, she took careful aim with her .357 and shot twice at the window on the passenger side, leaving two nice, neat holes in the door. The car alarm, which she set religiously before work, was silent.
She began to cry, again, with fear and frustration, as she realized how alone and exposed she was. She began to hit frantically against the window firsts with her hands, then with her fists, and at last, with the barrel of her revolver. Finally, the glass shattered, cutting her arms, but allowing her to get into the relative safety of her car.
She yanked the interior handle, falling as the door came open, then half-laughing, half crying she climbed in. She sat down in the passenger seat, and fumbled for her driving moccasins, knowing they weren't much protection, but that they would have to be better than heels or bare feet for the walk she was about to take.
Looking through the car, she grabbed her city map, flashlight, cigarettes, lighter, and gym bag, with two bottles of water and her Luna bars, as well as a change of clothes. Throwing everything into the gym bag made it difficult to zip she quickly discovered, but applying some creative sitting, she got it shut.
She then began walking down the alley away from the parking lot, her moccasins padding softly on the dark concrete.
She approached an intersection, trying to decide where to go. Home, her instincts shrieked, go HOME...the only problem was, it was a 20 mile commute by highway everyday, and she had no idea how to get home on foot.
She decided to start off in that direction anyway, figuring any movement was better than none at all.
When she came to an old warehouse, that looked relatively sound, if empty and, well, spooky, she ducked back onto the loading dock, and opened her bag, the first burst of adrenaline was wearing off and food sounded appealing...even if it was just an energy bar.
She opened her water bottle and gulped, wolfing down the energy bar without half-tasting it. Then, she stopped, midway through the last chew, as it dawned on her she had just consumed half of her known food and water supply.
"Well, that was smart..." she muttered to herself in disgust.
Exhausted, she opened her map, trying to figure out where she was in relation to her home and her office...She was shocked to find she had travelled only 3 miles.
She looked around her, at the warehouse with it's doors hanging askew and decided that, under the circumstances, tresspassing charges were the least of her worries, and crept cautiously inside, flashlight and gun in hand, like she had watched Detectives do on the Crime Dramas she loved. Keeping her back to the wall, she slid into the warehouse, it's vast, dark spaces, seeming infinite.
Apparently, she was alone. She heard a snuffling, and stopped a shriek in her throat as an older dog was illuminated by the flashlight in her hand, the dog dropped to her bely, and wriggled up, tail wagging on the concrete floor.
"Hi, buddy" she whispered holding her hand out, open palmed to show the dog she meant her no harm. The dog sniffled at her gently, then licked her palm.
"Good Doggy, nice doggy" Shelia began to relax a little, petting the dog to calm, both her nerves and the dog. "What a sweetie, you must have food here somewhere, fat as you are...want to show Mama your food pup?" She asked. As if the dog understood her, or, more likely understood the word "Food", she walked toward what had been the office of the warehouse in better days.
There, next to the office door was a small stack of canned goods, a bowl of water, and dog food, with a note saying the local SPCA was caring for the dog, and if you were homeless and needed food to take a can, but leave some for others, more would come Friday.
Friday, but, Friday was today...or yesterday now...so the donations were recent, tht was good...the bad was that the homeless knew this was a food drop, and would come looking for food...
Shelia grabbed one of the cans of pre-cooked food, popped the pull tab, and glutted herself on some kind of generic ravioli, then dumped out her gym bag, quickly stuffing as many cans as would fit inside. She pulled off her moccasins, then her now shredded stockings and garter belt, throwing her legs into her lycra gym pants as quickly as she could, and slid back into the moccasins. She pulled her sports bra over her silk blouse, laughing at how rediculous she had to look, and pulled her hair back quckly into a ponytail.
She shoved her map back into her bag, strapped her .38 back on her ankle, and tore strips off her ruined skirt, braiding them together to make a leash for the dog.
"Ok, Dog, it's you and me now...we need to get out of here before someone comes looking for this food."
Feeling slightly better, with food in her belly and companionship, even if it was canine, she set off again.
As the pink of dawn began to tinge the horizon, Shelia's flashlight batteries began to die. Stopping, she poured water into her hands for the dog to drink, then drank the rest of the bottle.
Still thirsty, Shelia sighed. "Dog, we're not going to get far if we don't find more water soon" The dog looked at her and wagged her tail, expecting something, although Shelia wasn't sure what.
In the distance, Shelia heard, for the first time, since the nightmare began, a diesel engine, and began running toward it with the dog following closely behind on her improvised leash.
A red and white ford truck, that had obviously seen better days, pulled into view. Shelia began waving her arms frantically, trying to flag down the driver "Help" "HELP" she yelled, waving her arms like she was attempting to take flight, the dog, witnessing the craziness, threw back her head and began to howl along, as the truck rolled to a stop beside them.
"Oh, thank God!" Shelia gasped, "Please, help us!"
The driver grinned down from the cab, "Help you? Lady, it's all I can do to help myself, why should I help you?"
Shelia was shocked "Well...well...well...I can pay you for your time" she stammered
"Pay me how? Lady, the banks are closed indefinitely, so no checks, you ain't got a purse I can see, unless that bag is one, and that dog of yours is ten kinds of ugly" He stated coolly
"I have cash, in the safe, at my house...take me there, and it's all yours"
"How far?"
"I, I, I'm not sure...I've been walking all night...I live just off exit 18..."
"Exit 18, Lady that's thirty miles the other way"
Shelia began to cry, hard, frustration at walking the wrong direction, in the dark, alone, afraid taking hold of her in earnest.
"Don't cry lady, I didn't say I wouldn't do it, I just was pointing out the inconveniance to me"
"So you'll do it?"
"It'll cost you more than cash, but yes, I will"
"I'm not that kind of woman...I mean...I've never..."
"Good Lord, woman, you're thick...I wasn't suggesting that either...I just need some help loading this truck, if you can do that for me, I'll give you a ride home, in exchange for the cash, of course"
"Oh, sure, that I can do"
He kicked open the passenger door for her, and sat, in amused silence as she and the dog climbed in.
"Nice leash" he said, after a few minutes had passed
"Oh, that, I made it...I couldn't leave her in the warehouse, alone....and besides, a dog is good protection"
"Yeah, I can see that...she really wanted to attack me" he said drolly
"Well, she will be!"
He pulled into a storage unit on the edge of town, took a key off his beeping keyring, and opened the unit.
"Well, get to work" he said, pulling the ramp down on his truck bed and a hand dolly out of the unit, beginning to move boxes.
She lifted on of the smaller boxes, and staggered back, shocked by the weight, "What do you have in here, lead weights?"
"Something like it"
He checked his watch, wrote something in his notebook, shut the unit, locked it, and got into the truck, ordering Sheila in as well.
He started the engine again, and drove back the way they had come.
"But, But, you said you'd take me home!" Sheila gasped
"True, I just didn't say it would be to your home...can you shoot?"
"Yes, why?" Sheila was still trying to get her head around the sudden change in topics
"You may have to, grab the shotgun off the rack, would you?" He asked, accelerating rapidly, then slowing suddenly to make a hard right turn, onto a road Shelia had not seen until they were on it.
He pulled the truck off the road, behind a grove of shrubs grabbing a rifle off the gun rack, opening the door, and getting out.
"Stay with the truck, don't fire unless you have to, and don't shoot at me."
"Ummm, how do I fire this?"
"Pull the D--N trigger woman, I thought you said you could shoot!"
"I can, just with a revolver, I've never used anything else, they kick too much."
"Hopefully you won't have to shoot it now, let's just say I'm being careful"
He left with those words, leaving Shelia and the dog alone, in the truck.
Her once lovely, professionally decorated office, lay in ruins around her, as she went to her safe and withdrew her mached brace of .357 Smith and Wesson Revolvers and the .38 Lady Smith she kept in an ankle holster for emergencies, this definitely qualified.
Armed, she felt slightly better, although she regretted not putting in the range time she had been promising herself. "Still", she thought aloud "better armed and minimally trained than unarmed and untrained, right?"
The sound of her voice in the silence startled her. "The silence?" she thought, to herself this time "why aren't the alarms shrieking?" No light came in from the broken windowpaines, not unusual for 11 pm, but the windows did bring to mind the fact that she needed to get out of the office, preferably before the gas mains in the basement blew sky high.
arehanded, she tried to open the window, quickly drawing back in pain from the shards of glass still embedded in the framing. "OWCH!"
Recognising how stupid a move she had just made, Shelia brushed her hair out of her face and looked at her hands, making sure none of the fragments of glass remained.
"Think, Think, Think, you are an intelligent woman, even if you are talking to yourself, alone, in a building that has just been..." her voice trailed off, as the reization dawned on her that she was unaware of what exactly had happened prior to standing up.
"Ok, think about that later...first, get out of the office"
She grabed the lightweight leather motorcycle jacket, one of her assistants had left behind at the end of the day from the sofa, and wrapped her hands carefully in it, struggling to get the remainder of glass out of the window.
As soon as she had cleared the frame to the best of her ability, she stuck her head out and looked at the 10ft drop to the street below.
She laid the jacket over the sill, then stretched her long, slender legs carefully out over the ledge, then she stopped, realising the risk to her ankles from wearing heels in the jump, and kicked them off, listening to the "clump, clump" as they hit the concrete below.
Swallowing hard, she wriggled her hips to get her rear as close to the edge of the ledge as she could, then rolled onto her belly, for once thanking God she had been cursed with a small bosom.
Sliding backward, like a snake, feeling the warm silk of her blouse slide up against her skin, and the cold leather replace it, she shivered, involuntarily. She braced her hands on either side of the window frame, praying she had a good enough grip as she felt with her now stocking clad feet for a toehold on the rough brick of the building.
"It's only a 5 foot drop, it's only a 5 foot drop, you CAN do this Shelia" she whispered through clenched teeth, her aquamarine eyes filling with tears. Finally, unable to find a toe-hold, she dropped, landing uncemoniously on her butt.
Vaguely remembering something about Gas explosions from a newscast, she got to her feet carefully, then put her heels back on, and ran as fast as she could, away from the building to the 200 ft they had made her go during School Fire Drills.
She fell, twice, skinning her hands and knees, and splitting her lip.
Bloodied, bruised, and more than a little terrified, she tried to figure out what to do next.
Her car, a cute late model Honda, sat a few feet away she realised as her eyes adapted to the absence of light. Of course, her keys still were in the office, but she had her guns...
Bracing in the stance her Dad had taught her, she took careful aim with her .357 and shot twice at the window on the passenger side, leaving two nice, neat holes in the door. The car alarm, which she set religiously before work, was silent.
She began to cry, again, with fear and frustration, as she realized how alone and exposed she was. She began to hit frantically against the window firsts with her hands, then with her fists, and at last, with the barrel of her revolver. Finally, the glass shattered, cutting her arms, but allowing her to get into the relative safety of her car.
She yanked the interior handle, falling as the door came open, then half-laughing, half crying she climbed in. She sat down in the passenger seat, and fumbled for her driving moccasins, knowing they weren't much protection, but that they would have to be better than heels or bare feet for the walk she was about to take.
Looking through the car, she grabbed her city map, flashlight, cigarettes, lighter, and gym bag, with two bottles of water and her Luna bars, as well as a change of clothes. Throwing everything into the gym bag made it difficult to zip she quickly discovered, but applying some creative sitting, she got it shut.
She then began walking down the alley away from the parking lot, her moccasins padding softly on the dark concrete.
She approached an intersection, trying to decide where to go. Home, her instincts shrieked, go HOME...the only problem was, it was a 20 mile commute by highway everyday, and she had no idea how to get home on foot.
She decided to start off in that direction anyway, figuring any movement was better than none at all.
When she came to an old warehouse, that looked relatively sound, if empty and, well, spooky, she ducked back onto the loading dock, and opened her bag, the first burst of adrenaline was wearing off and food sounded appealing...even if it was just an energy bar.
She opened her water bottle and gulped, wolfing down the energy bar without half-tasting it. Then, she stopped, midway through the last chew, as it dawned on her she had just consumed half of her known food and water supply.
"Well, that was smart..." she muttered to herself in disgust.
Exhausted, she opened her map, trying to figure out where she was in relation to her home and her office...She was shocked to find she had travelled only 3 miles.
She looked around her, at the warehouse with it's doors hanging askew and decided that, under the circumstances, tresspassing charges were the least of her worries, and crept cautiously inside, flashlight and gun in hand, like she had watched Detectives do on the Crime Dramas she loved. Keeping her back to the wall, she slid into the warehouse, it's vast, dark spaces, seeming infinite.
Apparently, she was alone. She heard a snuffling, and stopped a shriek in her throat as an older dog was illuminated by the flashlight in her hand, the dog dropped to her bely, and wriggled up, tail wagging on the concrete floor.
"Hi, buddy" she whispered holding her hand out, open palmed to show the dog she meant her no harm. The dog sniffled at her gently, then licked her palm.
"Good Doggy, nice doggy" Shelia began to relax a little, petting the dog to calm, both her nerves and the dog. "What a sweetie, you must have food here somewhere, fat as you are...want to show Mama your food pup?" She asked. As if the dog understood her, or, more likely understood the word "Food", she walked toward what had been the office of the warehouse in better days.
There, next to the office door was a small stack of canned goods, a bowl of water, and dog food, with a note saying the local SPCA was caring for the dog, and if you were homeless and needed food to take a can, but leave some for others, more would come Friday.
Friday, but, Friday was today...or yesterday now...so the donations were recent, tht was good...the bad was that the homeless knew this was a food drop, and would come looking for food...
Shelia grabbed one of the cans of pre-cooked food, popped the pull tab, and glutted herself on some kind of generic ravioli, then dumped out her gym bag, quickly stuffing as many cans as would fit inside. She pulled off her moccasins, then her now shredded stockings and garter belt, throwing her legs into her lycra gym pants as quickly as she could, and slid back into the moccasins. She pulled her sports bra over her silk blouse, laughing at how rediculous she had to look, and pulled her hair back quckly into a ponytail.
She shoved her map back into her bag, strapped her .38 back on her ankle, and tore strips off her ruined skirt, braiding them together to make a leash for the dog.
"Ok, Dog, it's you and me now...we need to get out of here before someone comes looking for this food."
Feeling slightly better, with food in her belly and companionship, even if it was canine, she set off again.
As the pink of dawn began to tinge the horizon, Shelia's flashlight batteries began to die. Stopping, she poured water into her hands for the dog to drink, then drank the rest of the bottle.
Still thirsty, Shelia sighed. "Dog, we're not going to get far if we don't find more water soon" The dog looked at her and wagged her tail, expecting something, although Shelia wasn't sure what.
In the distance, Shelia heard, for the first time, since the nightmare began, a diesel engine, and began running toward it with the dog following closely behind on her improvised leash.
A red and white ford truck, that had obviously seen better days, pulled into view. Shelia began waving her arms frantically, trying to flag down the driver "Help" "HELP" she yelled, waving her arms like she was attempting to take flight, the dog, witnessing the craziness, threw back her head and began to howl along, as the truck rolled to a stop beside them.
"Oh, thank God!" Shelia gasped, "Please, help us!"
The driver grinned down from the cab, "Help you? Lady, it's all I can do to help myself, why should I help you?"
Shelia was shocked "Well...well...well...I can pay you for your time" she stammered
"Pay me how? Lady, the banks are closed indefinitely, so no checks, you ain't got a purse I can see, unless that bag is one, and that dog of yours is ten kinds of ugly" He stated coolly
"I have cash, in the safe, at my house...take me there, and it's all yours"
"How far?"
"I, I, I'm not sure...I've been walking all night...I live just off exit 18..."
"Exit 18, Lady that's thirty miles the other way"
Shelia began to cry, hard, frustration at walking the wrong direction, in the dark, alone, afraid taking hold of her in earnest.
"Don't cry lady, I didn't say I wouldn't do it, I just was pointing out the inconveniance to me"
"So you'll do it?"
"It'll cost you more than cash, but yes, I will"
"I'm not that kind of woman...I mean...I've never..."
"Good Lord, woman, you're thick...I wasn't suggesting that either...I just need some help loading this truck, if you can do that for me, I'll give you a ride home, in exchange for the cash, of course"
"Oh, sure, that I can do"
He kicked open the passenger door for her, and sat, in amused silence as she and the dog climbed in.
"Nice leash" he said, after a few minutes had passed
"Oh, that, I made it...I couldn't leave her in the warehouse, alone....and besides, a dog is good protection"
"Yeah, I can see that...she really wanted to attack me" he said drolly
"Well, she will be!"
He pulled into a storage unit on the edge of town, took a key off his beeping keyring, and opened the unit.
"Well, get to work" he said, pulling the ramp down on his truck bed and a hand dolly out of the unit, beginning to move boxes.
She lifted on of the smaller boxes, and staggered back, shocked by the weight, "What do you have in here, lead weights?"
"Something like it"
He checked his watch, wrote something in his notebook, shut the unit, locked it, and got into the truck, ordering Sheila in as well.
He started the engine again, and drove back the way they had come.
"But, But, you said you'd take me home!" Sheila gasped
"True, I just didn't say it would be to your home...can you shoot?"
"Yes, why?" Sheila was still trying to get her head around the sudden change in topics
"You may have to, grab the shotgun off the rack, would you?" He asked, accelerating rapidly, then slowing suddenly to make a hard right turn, onto a road Shelia had not seen until they were on it.
He pulled the truck off the road, behind a grove of shrubs grabbing a rifle off the gun rack, opening the door, and getting out.
"Stay with the truck, don't fire unless you have to, and don't shoot at me."
"Ummm, how do I fire this?"
"Pull the D--N trigger woman, I thought you said you could shoot!"
"I can, just with a revolver, I've never used anything else, they kick too much."
"Hopefully you won't have to shoot it now, let's just say I'm being careful"
He left with those words, leaving Shelia and the dog alone, in the truck.
