Chapter 5 - THE FIRST RATTLE
The groan of the metal latch downstairs felt like a jolt of electricity straight to Lily’s heart. She scrambled out from under the desk, holding both phones tightly in her small hands. Her pink flannel pajamas felt suddenly thin against the cold drafts that the storm was forcing through the house's ventilation system.
She crept toward the threshold of her bedroom door, her bare feet making absolutely no sound on the thick rug. She stopped just an inch away from the wooden frame, tilting her head toward the dark hallway. The amber glow of the emergency backup lighting cast an eerie, warm haze over the stairs, making the shadows look longer and deeper than they actually were.
Clack.
The sound was sharp, distinct, and metallic. It didn't come from the wind or the rain. It was the unmistakable sound of a heavy sliding door handle being forcefully shaken from the outside.
Clack-clack-rattle.
The intruder was testing the door's remaining resistance. Lily looked down at the old phone screen in her left hand. The contrast-enhanced night-vision feed showed the man in the rain leaning his entire body weight against the crowbar. The structural strength of the double-paned glass door was holding, but the frame was visibly flexing inward.
Lily’s analytical mind began running a rapid countdown. A standard latch lock on a residential sliding door could withstand roughly eighty to a hundred pounds of direct pressure before the internal mechanism sheared off. With a heavy steel crowbar providing a mechanical advantage of nearly ten to one, the intruder was exerting close to eight hundred pounds of force on that tiny piece of metal.
"Twenty seconds," Lily whispered to herself, her voice trembling but her mind clear. "He’ll pop the door in less than twenty seconds."
She looked down the stairs into the pitch-black foyer. If the door broke, he would be inside the kitchen instantly. From the kitchen, it was a straight fifteen-step walk to the grand staircase, and then another twelve steps up to her bedroom door. The physical geography of the house was simple, which meant it offered very few places to hide.
Crack.
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A loud, sharp pop echoed from the first floor, followed by the deep, continuous groan of wood splintering. The internal lock had sheared. The sliding glass door was no longer locked; it was merely resting on its tracks, held closed only by the weight of the intruder's crowbar keeping it wedged tight.
Lily knew she couldn't afford to waste another second watching the screen. She had to move from the phase of data collection to the phase of active, strategic retreat. She stepped back into her bedroom, her eyes scanning the dark space for anything she could use to buy herself the most valuable commodity in the world right now: time.
