Lexi surveyed the dark space and saw a pale circle of light in the distance. The door we came in from. It’s open.

  She rushed toward the light, able to run easier with the skirt gone. In a blind panic, she sprinted down the round corridor toward the sound of the storm outside. The smell of wet air filled her senses as she sucked down breath.

  Rain slashed down from the sky as she burst into the outdoors. The dim outline of the great metal machine loomed in the damp gloom, and Lexi surged forward on a last burst of adrenaline. She threw the levers of the door and clamored inside before quickly securing it again. Though she wanted nothing more than to collapse in relief, her mind hadn’t stopped working. Adam closed the door when we went in there. That thing figured out how to open it.

  Lexi threw open the chest that she had seen Old Tom’s rifle in. She worked herself as far back from the door as she could and still have a good line of sight. Old Tom’s instructions came back to her crystal clear, and she worked the bolt to make sure she had a bullet loaded. With her gaze locked to the door, she raised the rifle to her shoulder and waited. Time passed, but Lexi stayed still as a stone.

  Clang. Something worked the levers and the door opened, letting in a sheet of rain. The wet figure of Devon appeared, holding a revolver in one hand and lugging the cylinder Lexi retrieved in the other. He dropped the heavy object with a thud, and shut the door.

  When he turned, he jumped before laughing. “You gave me a fright there, Sweetheart. Nice job with the lantern, you distracted that thing long enough for me to get a good shot. Hell, I never thought some animal could figure out how to get in. I’ll be glad to get out of this place.”

  He leaned back against the door. “Too bad about Maggie and Adam, but I suppose I won’t have to split the profits now. Always a silver lining, right?” He chuckled and grinned. The words bit hard at her, there was nobody left to help her, not her true uncle, not Old Tom, and now not Maggie.

  “Hey, Sweetheart, didn’t you hear me. That thing’s dead; stop pointing that rifle at me and–”

  Lexi squeezed the trigger, just like Old Tom had taught her.

  # # # #

  Thank you for reading my little tale. This story is from a novel idea I had and parts may appear in my next book project, The Shore of Night.

  If you would like to know more about my writing projects, check out my blog at: http://www.iplayawriter.com

 

 

  Erik Larson, Discipline

 

 

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