“They think we’re trapped…” he whispered again.
The key turned violently behind us.
BAM.
The door flew open.
A flashlight beam cut through the darkness.
“Don’t move!”
But at that same second, Michael shoved the shelving unit.
Part of the wall rotated silently, revealing a narrow dark opening.
A tunnel.
“Go!” he hissed.
I crawled through first, the air cold and damp. Michael slipped in behind me and rotated the wall back just as the flashlight swept across the basement.
We heard cursing.
“Where the hell did they go?!”
We crouched inside the narrow passage.
“You built a tunnel and never told me?” I whispered.
“It’s more than a tunnel,” he replied.
The passage opened into a small concrete room.
I froze.
There was a flashlight mounted on the wall. Metal storage boxes. Water supplies. A first-aid kit. An old radio. And a built-in safe.
A panic room.
“After the home invasion in the neighborhood years ago,” Michael said quietly, “I got scared. Remember the neighbors who were tied up in their own house?”
I remembered.
I just never knew he had gone this far.
Above us, footsteps continued.
Then we heard Ryan’s voice.
“They couldn’t have just disappeared!”
I felt ice run through me.
“Did he really do this?” I whispered.
Michael hesitated.
“I don’t think he meant for it to go this far.”
Before he could explain—
A crash upstairs.
Then shouting:
“Police! Everybody on the ground!”
Gunshots.
Then silence.
The Truth
Minutes later, we reopened the hidden wall.
The basement lights were on.
Two police officers stood there, weapons lowered when they saw us.
Ryan rushed down the stairs, pale, eyes red.
“Mom!”
I pushed him away.
“Don’t touch me! This is your fault!”
