The Raven's Gift - Don Rearden [28]
She stopped just inside the front doors and would go no further. He waited for a minute for her to say something, and when she didn’t he started for the gym.
“It doesn’t feel right,” she whispered.
He stopped, and slowly set the point of the ice pick to the thinly carpeted floor. He turned back to her.
“You want me to walk you back?”
She shook her head. “Why isn’t the place wrecked up like everywhere else? Why does it feel so normal?”
“How can you tell it’s not?”
“I just can,” she whispered. “It feels like it did when I came here before the sickness. Except cold. Something isn’t right. Trust me. I can just feel it. Maybe we should listen to her. We shouldn’t be here, John. This is a mistake.”
“Well, we’re here, and there might be food. I have to check. We can’t rely on dinner to fall from the sky.”
He lifted up the pick and continued toward the gym. He could hear her boots on the carpet behind him, her hand running down the side of the hall. At the door to the gym he stopped. If the pick didn’t work he would tear the building up looking for a key. He hoped he had enough energy to pry the double doors open.
“Stand back a bit. This is going to be loud for you,” he said.
He pushed the wedge end of the pick between the two doors where he hoped the latch met on the other side. He gave one hard push to get the point in as far as he could get it and then rocked his body against the bar. The right door popped open a crack and a rush of air hissed past him into the blackness of the gym. The girl stepped back and covered her ears. He pushed the heavy steel pick into the crack and pried again. The gap widened a little more, and he heard the familiar clink of chain links.
“Come on. Come on,” he said.
This time he slammed the bar in and groaned as he pushed against the door. It gave slightly, just enough for him to see the chain links on the swing-arm handle. He remembered the yellow flashlight in his pocket and pulled it out. He held it to the crack but couldn’t see into the thick darkness in the gym.
“What’s in there?” she whispered.
“I can’t tell.”
“The door’s chained, too?”
“Yeah. From the inside.”
“How are you going to get in?”
“I need to think for a minute.”
He pulled the pick out and slipped his arm into the darkness. He grabbed the chain, gave a quick pull, and knew it wasn’t going anywhere easily. He slid it toward him and tried to do the same on the push bar for the left door. Then he pulled his hand out quickly, as if something or someone on the other side was about to grab it. He pulled on the door and it gave a little more.
The girl stepped to the entrance and felt the edges of the opening. He could feel the air sliding past them into the gym, but she was still trying to smell what was on the other side. She checked the size of the gap.
“Can you get it a little wider?” she asked. “I could try slipping inside.”
From her voice he could tell she was scared. Scared, but trying, in her own way, to help.
“If I can find something to cut the chain,” he said.
“Just try. Open it a little more and I’ll go in. Maybe the kitchen won’t be locked. I can pass food through the door here. I’m not afraid. I’m not.”
She stuck her hand in through the crack and rattled the chain to prove her point, or to prove something to herself.
“We can try. You’ll have to take your parka off.”
He needed some sort of fulcrum to lever against, so he slid a metal waste can near the opening. She pulled off her parka and stood beside him. He rested the pick against the can, slipped the point into the crack, and threw his weight against the bar. The gap widened slightly. He slammed against the bar again, this time pushing and holding his weight against it.
“That’s as far as I can get it,” he said.
She stepped past him, felt the edges, rested her head against the closed door, and pushed it forward toward the crack. She pulled with her hands. John strained and pushed the bar harder to give her more room. Her head slipped through and then she began pulling her shoulders through. He hadn’t seen her