“Come on,” he said, twisting to look at Luca, who had managed to push himself upright in the backseat despite his bound arms.
Opening the doors let in a blast of ice-laden cold air. Oscar left getting Luca out of the car to Selene while he ran for the cabin. A quick look in the windows showed no signs of anyone. On one hand, that was good because it meant there was no chance of someone mistaking his asking for help as an attempt to break in. He’d just left the scene of one shootout, and he’d like the “not getting shot” track record to stand.
On the other hand, it meant he was going to have to actually break in.
He didn’t see a video doorbell or security company sticker. That didn’t mean those things weren’t there. It just meant he didn’t see them.
Selene and Luca joined him on the covered porch.
“We need to get him inside.” Selene’s tone was urgent.
Oscar looked at her, worried, but she was looking at Luca, who was hunched forward, his head hanging.
Oscar went to one of the windows, braced himself on the porch rail, and then kicked out the bottom pane of the window with his heel. He knocked the rest of the glass free, then started to climb in when Selene thrust Luca at him and edged her way in front of him.
“I’m a better fit.”
She climbed in, careful but quick, and a second later the front door opened.
The cabin was small but comfortable, the decor featuring far more chicken-themed items than he’d realized even existed.
Selene raced for the kitchen and started opening drawers. A second later, she returned with a pair of kitchen shears.
Luca’s wrists were bloody, and he made a small noise of pain as she slid the scissors under the wide zip ties and snipped them.
“Thank you,” he said, then groaned as his wrists were finally free, his arms falling to hang at his sides.
Over Luca’s bowed head, Selene looked at Oscar and they shared a grim expression.
They set Luca in a chair at the round kitchen table. “Find something to cover that window. I’ll figure out the heat situation.”
It was warmer inside than out, but it wouldn’t stay that way with the cold air pouring in through the window. He did a quick search through the house, including the miniscule root-cellar-style basement.
It was there he found a small toolbox and a few oddly sized pieces of plywood.
Wood in hand and carrying the toolbox, he came back up. Luca was at the kitchen sink letting cold water run over his wrists.
He found Selene on the front porch, loading a bucket with coal.
“Saw this on the way in. We’re in coal country.” She carried the scuttle inside and walked over to the coal-burning stove. Oscar was very impressed when she grabbed the heat gun that rested on top and held it against the coal. “It will take a while, but this should heat the house.”
Oscar fitted the largest piece of plywood over the window—it only covered half of it, then awkwardly tried to hold it in position with one knee. Luca came and silently braced the wood while Oscar nailed it to the wooden window frame.
Together, he and Luca finished covering the window, working quickly and quietly. Once they were done, Luca retreated back to the kitchen table, while Oscar added a layer of black garbage bags and duct tape to the remaining open space, sealing up the frame.
Selene was rubbing her arms. “It’ll take a minute to warm up but we have heat.”
“What we need is a phone,” Oscar said. Now that the adrenaline high from their escape had faded, Oscar was thinking about all the things they didn’t have—their phones, wallets, or Selene’s laptop.
He didn’t have any electronics. For the first time in his adult life, he was totally tech-less.
Oscar bent, braced his hands on his knees, and tried not to panic.
“Oscar, what’s wrong?” Selene asked.
“My phone. Your computer.”
A chair squeaked across the floor loudly as Luca stood. “The copy of the plans? They have it?”
“No, but it’s a computer. I don’t have access to a computer. Any computer.”
“I…do not understand,” Luca said slowly.
“Oscar’s having a small breakdown.” Selene patted him on the head. “There, there.”
The anger-laced panic was interrupted by a surprised snort of laughter. Oscar straightened, then folded his arms. “Did you just pat me on the head?”
“Would you rather I pat your ass?” she asked with a smile.
Luca cleared his throat. Oscar’s reply died on his lips. Now