Read Online Bad Nights by REBECCA YORK - Free Book Online Page B

with them as the smoked meat.
    He turned back to the door, trying again to push the bar aside, but time and disuse had fixed it solidly into place.
    Could they shoot their way out? Maybe. But the gunfire would alert Trainer’s men that they were still alive and outside the house.
    â€œMove over,” Morgan said. As she spoke, the words triggered a coughing fit, and she stopped climbing while she recovered.
    Knowing he had to focus on escape, Jack worked his way to the side of the ladder, and she stepped up beside him. He threw an arm around her shoulder, wedging her against himself.
    â€œSorry.”
    â€œAbout what?”
    â€œThrowing you down. Just what you needed, under the circumstances.”
    â€œDon’t worry about that.” She was holding a T-shirt, which she wrapped around her hands before reaching for the bar, making a cushion between her palms and the rough metal.
    â€œNow,” she whispered.
    He added his strength to her effort, tugging upward with everything he had. For long seconds he thought it wouldn’t be enough. Then with a ripping sound, it finally came free, throwing them both off balance as it flew upward, sending leaves and other forest debris raining down on their heads, which started Morgan coughing again.
    He lowered the door and rubbed her back, feeling her shoulders shake as she struggled to stop making noise.
    He kept the exit closed until she had quieted.
    â€œI’m all right,” she said when she was able to speak again.
    He hoped it was true. There was nobody out here who could treat either one of them for smoke inhalation.
    He steadied himself and cautiously pushed the trapdoor upward again, letting in filtered light, the roar of the fire behind them, and fresh air that was tainted with smoke. They both dragged in several breaths. The oxygen helped clear his head.
    â€œI’m going to take a look,” he whispered.
    Climbing up a couple more rungs, he cautiously stuck his head up just far enough to see the area around the trapdoor.
    The tunnel exit was screened by brambles and small trees that must have grown up since the escape route was dug. Some of the tree roots pulled free when they wrenched the door open.
    Swiveling around so that he could look in all directions, he saw that they had come up behind the rear of the burning house—about fifty yards away from the scene of the action.
    Trainer’s troops, dressed in combat gear with guns ready, were standing in a circle, their attention glued to the conflagration. He couldn’t see all of their faces from here, but he could identify all of them by their stance and bearing. Everyone a Trainer loyalist, picked for their ideology. They weren’t here to put out the blaze or save anyone’s life. But what had Jack expected—that the militia leader would have called the fire department?
    From Jack’s position, he could see six men. Ryder, Chambers, Salter, Porter, Hamilton, and Jessup. He assumed there were more outside of his line of sight.
    Ducking back inside the tunnel, he spoke to Morgan in a whisper. “I’m going out. Keep the door cracked, and keep your eyes on me. When I motion for you to follow, stay low.”
    She nodded, and he eased out of the tunnel, keeping almost flat to the ground as he assessed the situation. From below the trapdoor, he could hear Morgan’s harsh breathing.
    Satisfied that none of the militiamen was watching anything besides the blaze, he motioned to Morgan. She handed the sleeping bag up first, then flopped out onto a bed of brown leaves, imitating his low profile. Turning, she stared back at the house that was now reduced to flames and blackened timbers.
    The sad look on her face tore at him.
    â€œSorry,” he whispered. “I guess you loved that place.”
    â€œI have mixed feelings, actually.”
    The way she said it made him want to know more, but there wasn’t time for any personal discussion now.
    They