Pool_2

Back and front cut off, there was no way out. Trapped. There was a way up, though. Marcus moved quickly but silently. In the center hallway, that led from the parlor, with its brick fireplace, to the bedrooms which were over the garage, was a ceiling draw cord. Carefully, pulling down to open the trap door as quietly as possible, he eased the aluminum ladder which descended to the floor. Quickly up the steps into a wickedly hot attic crawl space, the dead end escape was closed behind him, but carefully, to not let it slam. Would the hanging cord swing and give him away? He pulled it up then lowered it carefully to dampen its movement. This was not a functional attic. There was a mere four feet of clearance under the peak. Only a central lane under the peak was floored, about six feet wide, with rough raw planking that ran most the length but stopped just past the wide brick chimney which vented the parlor fireplace below. All of this he already knew, having cleaned it out years ago and having sneezed for two full days. He knew it but could not actually see it in the sudden darkness. Off the sides of the narrow center lane of flooring were the exposed joists, like skeletal ribs, but with insulation rather than muscle filling the spaces between. He removed his shoes and tucked them under insulation. Minimal light penetrated roof vents. Even with incomplete vision, he remembered that the wide fireplace chimney obscured the far third of attic space from direct view. It took what seemed like eternity to get sufficient acuity to inspect the mostly forgotten goods stored in perched boxes straddling the joists. There were fans, bagged toys, sporting goods, fishing poles, baseball gear, and boxes of assorted junk which included an old knife with two Z's carved on the handle. This he tucked into his belt. What else could he use? There were many boxes of a discarded past. But there was no time. He could now hear conversation - two men, inside, below him.