Chapter 4 - Breaking the Lock
"Dad! The door’s deadbolted from the outside! She’s got the key!"
Daniel threw his entire weight against the heavy wooden fire door, but it didn't even rattle. The solid-core oak door, reinforced with a steel frame that Robert had installed himself after a string of desert break-ins years ago, was built to withstand a battering ram—meaning it was currently keeping them locked inside their own tomb.
Robert didn't panic. Panic was a luxury for people who didn't know how to breathe under water.
"Stop," Robert said, his voice cutting through Daniel’s frantic shoving like a scalpel. "Conserve your energy. Shoving wood isn't going to turn a steel deadbolt."
"Dad, the gas! Can't you smell it?" Daniel dropped to his knees, coughing as a faint, sharp odor of sulfur and rotten eggs began to seep up from the floor drain near the workshop sink. "She rigged the utility line! Carol and the kids are right through that wall!"
Robert was already moving. Years of muscle memory took over. He swept past the workbench, ignoring the rows of neatly hung screwdrivers, wrenches, and pliers, until his eyes locked onto the heavy-duty tool chest in the corner.
"Get over here," Robert ordered, yipping open the bottom drawer. "Grab the heavy pry bar and the electric angle grinder from the bottom shelf. Now!"
Daniel scrambled across the concrete floor, his hands shaking so violently he nearly dropped the heavy steel bar. "Is there enough battery? When was the last time you charged it?"
"It’s plugged into the heavy-duty service outlet on the wall," Robert snapped, yanking the orange extension cord free. "Plug it in. We’ve got less than fifteen minutes before that gas hits the water heater pilot in the basement."
The high-pitched whine of the cordless angle grinder spinning up to ten thousand RPMs tore through the quiet garage, screaming like a jet engine taking off. Sparks showered across the concrete floor as Robert jammed the spinning diamond-carbide disc directly into the brass latch plate of the side door leading out to the driveway.
"The side door?" Daniel shouted over the deafening roar of the tool. "I thought we needed to get into the house!"
"The side door leads to the patio!" Robert yelled back, his face illuminated by the blinding white arc of metal grinding against steel. "If we try to break through the main interior door into the kitchen, we’re walking right into the middle of the gas-filled hallway! We get outside first, shut off the main gas valve at the meter, and then we go through the sliding glass windows to get Carol and the kids out!"
Sparks flew in a vicious, blinding arc as the grinding disc bit deeper into the hardened steel bolt. The smell of burning metal filled the air, mixing sickeningly with the creeping stench of natural gas rising from the floor drains.
Zzzzzzt—screeeeech!
The lock housing smoked, turning cherry red under the intense friction.
"Dad! The battery indicator is flashing red! It’s losing charge!" Daniel yelled, holding the heavy base of the tool steady as Robert leaned his entire body weight into the handle.
"Hold it steady!" Robert roared, his muscles straining against the vibration. "Just ten more seconds!"
With a deafening clank, the internal bolt sheared in half.
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Robert kicked the heavy side door with the heel of his boot. It flew open, slamming against the exterior brick wall, and a rush of crisp, cold desert air poured into the garage, sweeping away the heavy concentration of sulfur.
"Out! Go!" Robert shoved Daniel through the threshold onto the concrete patio, following him a fraction of a second later as the entire garage behind them hummed with a low, ominous pressure drop.
