The Sentinel Ch. 18

"Dave," she called up the stairs before cupping her hands around her mouth to direct the sound. "Dave, what the hell are you doing up there?" This was getting ridiculous. Looking down at her cast and up the stairs, she decided she could do this. Pulling on the newel post, she raised her cast to the first step and pulled herself up behind it. The pain was excruciating, and she decided that wasn't the best way to go about it. Placing her good foot on the next step while sliding her hands farther up the banister to pull both her and the cast up together, she grunted and forged ahead. That's more like it, she thought.

Several grunts and four steps later, she stopped to yell at Dave again. "Dave, this is really pissing me off. What the hell are you doing up there?" Ominously, no one answered back, but the daytime creaks and groans any house makes as the exterior heats up from the sun.

Pulling herself up three more steps, put her on the landing where the staircase turned to the left before the six remaining steps to the top. She wondered why on earth she had purchased a house with such high ceilings as she stopped to catch her breath. Pleading now, she called out to Dave again. "Look, Dave, I felt bad. I was in a bad mood. I'm sorry if I've been a bitch this morning."

Pulling herself up three more steps, she could feel the pain in her ankle as it throbbed, shooting up her leg with every beat of her heart. The doctor had said to stay off the foot. What the hell am I doing, anyway? Looking up from the cast, she could now see down the upstairs hallway to her bedroom. Her blood ran cold when she saw the lower half of Dave's body, lying in the doorway to her bedroom, his pants and shoes in view while the rest of his body was hidden by the wall. More importantly, his gun was gone and the holster empty.