Perfect Shelter (excerpt)

Excerpt, part 1

"Please, God!"

Elaine stopped pounding and straining against the storm cellar door and held her breath, listening for some sign of help. A mockingbird chirped and sang happily, as if nothing had happened. A dog barked somewhere in the distance. Aside from that nothing. No sound. What if no one ever came?

Don't be stupid. She shook her head to dislodge the unnerving prospect. Of course someone will come. Too late! Fear clamped like a vise around her heart. She raised a hand to clutch at her tightening chest. If only there was a little light down here, it wouldn't be so bad. Up until now she'd done all right. But each minute that passed, each futile shove against the obstructed door, made it harder to contain the panic rising from the pit of her stomach trying to claw its way out.

She had to get out of here! But she could barely breathe, let alone move whatever had landed on top of the door. What if it was her truck or one of Mr. Chandler's Longhorns? She pushed again, measuring the result this time. No. It wasn't that solid. But it wasn't moving either. She bent forward and braced her hands on her knees, gasping desperately to fill constricted lungs.

Don't scream. She took a deep breath. It won't help. She let it out. No one will hear. She stood up straight again, her head throbbing in time with the rhythm of her pounding pulse. The Chandlers, her nearest neighbors, lived a mile down the road. They had been a great source of help and comfort to her since Richard's death. The tightness in her chest bore down again, nearly driving her to her knees. But she'd run for the storm cellar without thinking to grab her phone. She had no way to contact them or anyone. She'd have to figure a way out of this alone. She closed her eyes and breathed.

"Please, God."

This time the words sounded calmer, less desperate, ready to negotiate as if God didn't know exactly how hopeless she was.

The sound of rustling debris nearly stopped her heart.

Her eyes snapped open, then she froze. Surely not. Surely she had not locked herself down here with something alive. She held her breath. Maybe she'd just imagined it. But the sound came again. Something moved. Or had it slithered? She spun around, slammed her open palms against the door and pushed with an adrenaline fed strength she didn't possess under ordinary circumstances. The obstruction outside shifted. Whatever had her trapped down here scraped and slid against the door. She shoved again and it lifted slightly, a couple of inches.

"Yes!"

She took a deep, determined breath, then wiped away tears she hadn't, until just now, realized had fallen. She braced herself, and shoved again. The sound of splintering wood on the outside was like music to her ears. She kept pushing, and her captor kept giving way. Daylight! Thank you, God!

She could only raise the door a foot or so. But that was all the space she needed. She pushed and pulled and squirmed her way back above ground. When she finally emerged into the gray afternoon light she sank to her knees, trembling and gasping for breath. Thank you, God!

For a long moment she knelt there, filling her lungs with fresh, cool air. Her pulse slowed, and the tightness in her chest relaxed. She swallowed repeatedly, trying to ease the soreness in her parched throat.

Water. That's what she needed. After a long cool drink she'd assess the damage. She pushed herself up off the rain soaked grass and turned for the house, but stopped short at the sight before her. The tightness in her chest returned and stole her breath as effectively as a punch to the gut. A pile of battered lumber and spewing broken plumbing lay where her beautiful home had stood not more than twenty minutes ago. Nothing remained intact except a border of immaculate, untouched flower beds filled with pink snapdragons.