Chapter 6 - THE EMERGENCY PLAN
Lily closed her bedroom door with an agonizingly slow, deliberate movement, catching the latch before it could make a loud click. She turned the small, polished brass privacy lock on the doorknob. It was a flimsy lock, the kind that could easily be popped open with a small screwdriver or a hard kick, but it was the first line of defense.
She sat down on the edge of her bed, her hands steady as she picked up her main, active smartphone. She opened the phone dialer and typed three numbers that every American child is taught to memorize, but prays they never have to use: 9-1-1.
She pressed the green call button, holding the phone tightly against her ear. The line rang once. Twice. The silence between the rings felt heavy, punctuated only by the roaring wind outside her window.
"911 Emergency, what is the address of your emergency?" a calm, professional female voice asked.
"142 Elm Street," Lily whispered, her voice low but incredibly clear. "My name is Lily Vance. I am nine years old, and I am home completely alone. There is an intruder in a black raincoat breaking into my house through the kitchen door. He has a crowbar."
The dispatcher’s tone shifted instantly from routine to high alert. "Lily, stay on the line with me. I am entering the dispatch code right now. Are you in a safe location inside the house?"
"I am locked in my second-floor bedroom," Lily said, her eyes locked on the bottom of her door. "But the neighborhood power is completely out, and the storm is very loud."
"Lily, listen to me carefully," the dispatcher said, the sound of rapid keyboard typing audible in the background. "I have just dispatched the nearest police unit to your address. However, I need to let you know that a large oak tree has just fallen across the main boulevard three miles south of you, knocking down power lines and blocking both lanes. The emergency vehicles are having to take a detour through the old county road. Their arrival time is going to be delayed by roughly ten to twelve minutes."
Ten to twelve minutes. Lily’s mind instantly translated that data into a grim reality. The intruder would be inside the house in less than one minute. He would reach the top of the stairs in two. She was entirely on her own for at least eight long minutes.
"Lily? Are you still there?" the dispatcher asked, anxiety creeping into her professional voice.
"I’m here," Lily said, her jaw tightening. "I understand. The police are slow because of the storm. I will protect myself. I have a plan."
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"Lily, don't hang up—"
Lily pulled the phone away from her ear, but she didn't hit the end button. She set the phone down on her desk, leaving the call active so the dispatcher could hear everything, while keeping her hands entirely free to execute the physical defenses of her room.
