But where could it be?
With a wetness at my right foot, I lifted my leg. Blood spread across the thin sole of the slipper, concentrating around a slit the width of my thumb.
The deep voices seemed so close and did nothing to ease my panic. There was nothing else I could do but grit my teeth and take the steps, tentatively placing my foot to the floor and waiting for the next sharp dig. When none came, I glanced to where I’d lifted my foot, glaring at the red circular print left behind.
I gained confidence in my steps, reminding myself to seek out the keys whilst looking anywhere but the trail I left in my wake. Relief came as I moved along the short hallway lined with plush carpet. Walking through the unfamiliar layout, I peered to the front door where, if we’d lived here, Mum would have kept the keys to her tiny car on a table at its side.
There was no table.
To the right under the stairs was a small door and as I opened it, I stopped midway when the hinges gave a low creak, leaving the door open enough to see there wasn’t a cupboard full of coats and shoes as I’d expected. Instead, a toilet sat on a white-tiled floor with a sink in the corner.
I shut the door.
To the left, I guessed the next door would take me to a living room or lounge, but as each of the houses in Cowithick were so different, I couldn’t be sure until I built up the courage to look.
The pain from my foot grew with every step, but I pushed on, opening the door to two wide sofas arranged in front of a huge TV in the corner. There were no decorations of the season, confirming the Williams were definitely away.
As I stepped in, another explosive boom stopped my search as I felt the sound through the floor. I spotted a set of car keys resting on a side table beside a stack of round coasters. My stomach flipped at the sight, but the excitement fell away when I saw there were no front door keys on the ring.
Looking up to the wide window, a shadow moved beyond the net curtains. Two soldiers were taking considered steps along the pavement just past the front garden. They were coming to break open the door and throw in their grenade with no questions asked.
I peered on as the black gas mask of the lead soldier looked my way, as if he’d seen me beyond the thin netted material.
Ducking down as far as I could, I leapt towards the keys, trying to stay low whilst gritting my teeth as pain stung my foot.
I swiped the key fob from the table, knocking the coasters to the floor. Rising as I reached the hallway, through the needles of pain, I rushed out into the corridor. Shaking my head, I looked left to the dark figures through the misted glass, hoping they hadn’t seen me blocking out their light.
When they hadn’t opened fire, I retraced my bloodied prints to the back of the house.
Bang came the big red ram at the front as their bulk blotted out the light. When at the kitchen door a sudden pain shot up from my right heel, my ankle collapsed, sending my hands out in front to stop myself from smashing my head against the door jamb.
Rushing to get to my feet, I looked to the blood dotting the kitchen floor, grimacing at the glass strewn where I knew I had to climb again. But what choice did I have?
With a second pounding at the front door, I grabbed a chair from the table to the right and dropped it to the floor amongst the glass. The heavy hits at the door hid my clumsy hand with the chair. Not slowing, knowing their effort behind me would soon be over, I had to be out of sight, hoping they’d not see the blood or the glass missing from the back door and the chair at the empty window.
I jumped through the window opening, using my hands on the frame to propel myself through the gap. Clenching my jaw to stifle any sound, I landed on my feet. It felt as if the skin had come away as I pressed down on the bare flesh underneath.
Tommy stared my way, not hiding the mixture of concern and pleasure at seeing me again.
He rose and I shook my head, waving for him to get back down as I fell to my knees, crawling back toward the house. Leaning to the brick beside the back door, I pushed myself as close to the patio slabs as I could, just in time for the explosion shocking through the ground and spraying glass out from every window.
11
I waited, shivering, expecting the soldiers to follow my bloody mess and smash down the back door. I’d turn and see them, watching as they spotted Tommy standing, gawking back and not hesitating to put a bullet between his eyes before they turned on me.
But no. I heard the shouts from behind the masks, but not the question in their voices or the sudden hush, as if they’d seen something to raise their interest. What had they already seen to make my blood on the floor pale into the background?
With a rush of boots, their deep, incoherent voices vibrated through the house. I pictured the men focused on clearing every room until their noise was no more, their absence confirmed moment later with a swift bang at the next door along, followed by a more distant explosion.
As the echo died, the pain in my foot came into focus and twisting as quickly as I dared,
