The Variety Pages

Weekly News & Prompt - January 30, 2012

jamie@jamiedebree.com (Jamie D.) — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 13:09:00 GMT

Flash 52 – Week 5 Prompt: A well-dressed man is walking down a quiet city street at night, past the dimly-lit store windows with decadent displays. An object in one of the windows catches his eye, and he stops to take a closer look. It reminds him of something...

I really hope last week was better for you than it was for us. It wasn’t one thing, but many little things that interrupted the normal flow and made it impossible to get back in our “groove” until the weekend. Thankfully, Saturday & Sunday were far more peaceful and productive.

Lots of book stuff to talk about today, so here we go...

I still don’t have the Flash 52 book formatted...and it’s because I’m still waffling on how I want to lay it out, and whether I want to add extras for writers wanting to use it as a practice workbook or not. Honestly, I think I’m just in that “never done it before” procrastination mode, and I need to shake out of it and just get it done. With any luck (and a bit less cowardice), I’ll have it up for sale by next weekend.

I did get the Rattles anthology done and published – if you like flash fiction, check out The Old Sofa at the BrazenSnake Books store – it’s .99 cents until the next anthology comes out. It’s also currently available at Smashwords (link on the BSB store), and it should be trickling onto Amazon and Barnes & Noble sometime this week, and out to Sony, Diesel and the Apple ebook store within a month or so. And of course if any of you writers out there care to give the next flash prompt a go, check out the Rattles site for a very oblong object to write about...

Of course, if you want to download The Old Sofa for free, you could join the Brazen Snake Monthly newsletter. I have it on good authority that this month’s newsletter will include a free code for that particular book in February.

I’ve also been playing with some cover art design this week, as you can see above – for my first flash collection. I think it turned out pretty well for my first attempt. Heart Knocks will include two of the stories I’ve written recently, one I wrote a couple of years ago, and one I wrote for the second Rattles Anthology, At the Water’s Edge:

The Lunch Thief
One More Year
The Franklin Date
Full Circle

Each story is between 800 and 1000 words, which is about 3-4 print pages a piece, and the collection will be permanently priced at .99 cents (25 cents per story). Two of the stories are about love “knocking” with two new opportunities, and two are about second chances after some “hard knocks” in the relationship department. A good selection for Valentine’s Day, if I do say so myself...

Heart Knocks will be available later this week in ebook format – I may eventually make it available in print, but not just yet. And if you sign up for my newsletter, which isn’t even sent out monthly (I’ve been a bit busy), but will be sent out in February, you may just find a free code for this little collection there. Just sayin’.

Finally, if you’re a Trinity Marlow fan, the last novelette in last year’s Working Stiffs series will be out by next weekend as well, and shortly after that, a collection of all five stories.

So lots of formatting/publishing going on in the next couple of weeks, and I hope to be announcing a friend’s next publication in the very near future as well.

That’s pretty much what I’m up to this week – well, and writing more scenes for my serial stories too. I should have a large lot of Smurfs showing up sometime in the next couple of weeks, but I promise not to let it distract me. Much.

Whew! Here’s hoping that where ever you are, you have a better week this week than the last one. That’s really all we can hope for, right?

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Flash 52: Full Circle

jamie@jamiedebree.com (Jamie D.) — Sun, 29 Jan 2012 16:15:00 GMT

I'm doing a project this year called Flash 52 - in which I attempt to write one flash fiction (1k words or less) story per week from prompts I came up with last month. This week's story will be available for one week.

Week 4 Prompt: A woman walks through a park in her hometown, reflecting in the crisp autumn air. The old carousel is still there, though no longer operational, and she climbs the fence and goes to visit the horse she used to call her own. Glancing between the broken mirrors that line the center control room, she spies an old teddy bear lying against the console...

Full Circle

Kari had come back for the reunion, but when the time came to enter the gym and face all her former peers, she couldn't do it. Not yet, at least. Instead, she kept walking past those double doors and across the playground, into the community park beyond. Leaves crackled beneath her feet, the crisp, cool air far more fresh than the city atmosphere she’d become accustomed to.

The park had been her personal haven growing up, and as she wandered through the unkempt grass she marveled that it had remained untouched all these years. Her steps slowed, her shoulders relaxed, and she smiled, tilting her head up towards the setting sun for a moment of bliss.

Veering off to the left, she made her way through a copse of trees that were no longer the saplings she remembered. Pushing her way through the overgrown thicket on the other side, she wished she’d left the cashmere sweater at the hotel.

Then she looked up, and all thoughts of ruined clothing disappeared as she saw the old carousel still standing ten yards away. Her old friend, the white horse with flying mane and tail waited as though the past ten years had never happened, the holly wreath faded less than she would have thought. Stepping over the low wooden fence, she climbed up on the platform, running a hand over the smooth plastic of the horse’s body.

Her first kiss had happened right in that very spot. Grinning, she remembered how nervous Steve had been, standing beside her, his arm around her waist as she moved up and down with the music. The moment the ride had stopped, he’d pulled her down to his level and ruined her for all other men.

Later that summer, another first late at night after everyone had gone, on the colorful bench just two animals back. She went to sit down, testing the strength with her hand before settling back in the sloped seat.

She’d told him about the baby here. He’d listened, and held her as she cried. Not long after, he’d gotten down on one knee in the middle of the night, a teddy bear in one hand and a ring in the other.

That was the last time she’d been in town. She’d wanted to call, to apologize, to try to make it right. But the part of her that thought he could have - should have - come after her kept her from dialing the phone. Pretty soon, too much time had passed, years slipping away in a whirlwind of diapers, first steps and birthday parties. Every day a reminder, every question about his father more insistent. Finally she’d called, hanging up when a woman answered the phone.

Steve was here, or so the attendees list had said. She would tell him tonight, give him the choice he should have had long ago.

With a sigh she rose, knowing it was time. Turning, she glanced into the mirror-lined control room of the carousel, and froze at the object propped up against the far wall, exactly where she’d thrown it that awful night. Could it be?

She went inside and picked up the dark fuzzy teddy bear, the blue ribbon still tied in a bow around his neck. Surely it couldn’t be the same one, but she marveled at the simularities.

“I thought you'd come here. I know about our son.”

She whirled around and there he was, older, more distinguished, but the same man, nonetheless. Leaning relaxed against the doorframe, he still took her breath away.

“I'm so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. He wants to know you.” The words tumbled out quickly, and she cursed herself for sounding so desperate.

Steve walked toward her, stopping a little too close for comfort. “My sister told me you called. Or she thought it was your voice. Why did you hang up?”

“I didn’t want to intrude on your life,” she said, looking away. “It’s been so long, and I know you probably—"

“Did you ever marry?”

The interruption shocked her, and she slowly shook her head. He grinned.

“Me either.” He held out a hand. “Let’s skip the reunion and get some dinner. You can tell me all about him.”

She hesitated. “You’re not mad?”

“I was angry for a long time. Years, actually. And I still want answers. But first, I want to see pictures. Do you have some?”

She nodded, placing her hand in his, the other holding the bear. They walked out of the park together, and spent the evening making the past disappear. In the dark hours of the morning, he dropped her off at her parent’s house.

“I want to meet him, soon,” he said, and her heart rejoiced.

“He’s coming tomorrow. He wants to meet you too. He’s been asking for years.” She fought back the fear that her son would want to stay, choosing to be calm in the face of something that would change their lives forever. “Will you come to dinner?”

“I wouldn't miss it.”

The next night, she stood on the front step with her son, waiting. She bit her bottom lip, worried that he wouldn’t come. That somehow she’d misunderstood.

Then he came up the walk, holding the bear and a bouquet of white roses, handing both off to her before he embraced his son and brought tears to her eyes.

Later that night, after dinner and games and stories and hugs, he carried thier little man up to bed and tucked him in. When everyone else had retired and it was just the two of them on the couch, she finally told him why she’d decided to keep the baby after all.

Six months later, the three of them visited the carousel again.

This time, she said yes.

Serial Novel: Falling in Public, Ch. 35

jamie@jamiedebree.com (Jamie D.) — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 13:18:00 GMT

This serial novel is posted in draft form every Friday. To receive each installment via email, please sign up here.

Ch.1|Ch. 2|Ch. 3|Ch. 4|Ch. 5|Ch. 6|Ch. 7|Ch. 8|Ch. 9|Ch. 10|Ch. 11|Ch. 12|Ch.13|Ch. 14|Ch. 15| Ch. 16| Ch. 17|Ch. 18| Ch. 19 | Ch. 20 | Ch. 21 | Ch. 22 | Ch. 23 | Ch. 24 | Ch. 25 | Ch. 26 | Ch. 27 | Ch. 28 | Ch. 29 | Ch. 30 | Ch. 31 | Ch. 32 | Ch. 33 | Ch. 34 |

Falling in Public

Chapter 35

"I'm really not sure, Ms. Saunders," Eddie's driver said as he pulled away from the curb. He called me a few minutes ago and asked me to pull around to that door and wait for you. Should I call the police?"

Holly considered that as the car moved farther away from the terminal. "He didn't give you any other instructions? Didn't mention where we should meet him?"

The driver shook his head. "No ma'am." He took a sharp right turn, and Holly lost her balance, falling hard against the door. When she righted herself, her leg numb from the continued pain, she noted they were actually on the tarmac, heading fast toward a small, sleek jet.

"Eddie didn't really call you, did he." It wasn't a question. The sick feeling in her stomach grew stronger as they closed in on the jet. The driver shrugged.

"He did, actually. I merely...took liberties with the content of the call."

Holly glanced around, looking for anything she could possibly use as a weapon, but the car was immaculate. With the wheelchair in the trunk and her leg pretty much useless, it wasn't looking good. Two burly guys in suits were waiting as the car pulled to a stop, and one yanked the door open while the other reached for her. She thought about fighting, but decided to save her strength.

The brute pulled her out of the car and over his shoulder, her head hanging down his back as he anchored her with an arm around her legs. She cried out, but he didn't seem to care as he walked to the plane and climbed the stairs. By the time he lowered her to the ground, tears steamed down her face and she struggled to stand just inside the doorway on one leg.

"Move," he said, shoving at her shoulder. "Don't be a baby."

She couldn't keep her balance and fell, all of her weight on her wound. Bright lights filled her vision and she gasped, hearing voices all around but unable to make out what they were saying. Then it all faded away.

Pain was the first thing she noticed when Holly came to. Her leg, propped up on a seat across from where she was sitting alternately throbbed and burned. Someone had folded a once-white towel over the spot where she'd been shot. It was soaked with blood, and she felt faint just looking at it.

"Drink this."

An open can of orange juice was shoved into her hand, and she looked up, recoiling at the same big man who had shoved her over sitting so close. The can slipped from her fingers and juice splashed everywhere as it hit the floor of the plane. Just then, the aircraft bucked, sending the leaking can rolling across the small space. In an attempt not to throw up, Holly closed her eyes and grabbed both armrests, every muscle in her body rigid with the effort.

"You stupid bitch," the man beside her growled. Holly squeezed her eyes tighter, bracing for the blow she knew would come.

"Touch her, and I'll kill you myself, Nelson. Go get a mop."

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Writer's Notes: Lessons Learned from Philately

jamie@jamiedebree.com (Jamie D.) — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 21:45:20 GMT

Some of you know I have a stamp collection. Although I haven't been actively collecting for awhile, I'm still completely enamored with how pretty much any kind of artwork you can dream up can be miniaturized on a small square or rectangle. Or triangle, as is the case with the Jamestown commemorative stamps.

Philately (stamp collecting) is a tricky thing. If you're not careful when you first start (I know this from experience), you just start collecting every single kind of stamp you can get your hands on. And because a pack of 500 worldwide stamps (most with little or no monetary value) are very inexpensive and easy to get a hold of (especially if you know a collector personally), that's where most people start. It's not a bad way to start...in fact, it's incredibly fun, and you can spend literally *hours* examining those stamps with a little magnifying glass, tweezers (because you don't want any more skin oils on them than necessary), and a bunch of stamp catalogs/magazines (so you can look up the "Scott number" & value of each stamp, along with any variations that are available).

Actually, it's a lot like Smurf collecting, when I put it that way...

Before you know it, you've got way more stamps than you'll ever have time to catalog, and the whole thing can be very overwhelming. Especially when you branch out into collecting covers (which is a fancy word for envelopes bearing stamps). And you put it aside for awhile, not really sure what to do with the behemoth of tiny masterpieces you've created.

Okay, not all stamp collectors do that. But that's what I did.

When I decided to start collecting Smurfs again (What? Stop looking at me like that!), I decided to set up a blog/web site where people could see what I have in my collections, and I could post my want/trade/sales lists all in one place. The lists were requested by my mom for gift-giving purposes...I just sort of took it to the next level (web developers - which is what I am when I'm not writing - instinctively want to put *everything* on the web - I don't even fight it anymore).

I have some...idiosyncrasies that are a bit odd (you could at least pretend you didn't know that). One of those is that if I'm going to name my new collectibles blog The 'S' Collections (in development), and the blog template I pick has space for three photos at the top, then I need three collections to showcase. Besides, three is a more "artistic" number than two. Yes, I know that no matter how I try to spin it, it's still weird. Regardless, I needed three. And since my skunk collection really isn't an active one (no one ever buys me skunks or Pepe stuff, even though I have Pepe tattooed on my ankle), I chose my state spoon collection and my stamp collection as the other two "S" collections to feature.

Dude, I sound totally insane, don't I? Ah, well. That's what it looks like inside a writer's brain. I should have warned you, I suppose.

*Anyways*...I was taking the above photo (yes, we are finally getting close to the point!), and deciding which stamps I wanted to have in it, and the light bulb that should have gone on in my brain a long time ago finally did. The stamp collection would be less overwhelming, more fun, and easier to have a want-list for if I *narrowed my focus*. Instead of collecting *all* sorts of stamps, I needed to narrow it down to the themes/subjects I'm most drawn to, and then it would be more manageable.

Duh.

Do I regret starting off big and general before narrowing down my subjects? Not even a little bit. I'm a person who likes to know all the options before I make a choice. And I think even if you know you'll eventually choose a narrower focus to make things easier to handle, it's good to experience the other offerings too. Not only do you get a broader knowledge base, but it allows you to appreciate more than just one style of anything. And I think that makes for a well-rounded person.

Maybe that's why I don't write in just one genre. I certainly don't read in just one (or two or three). But over the years I've read extensively in pretty much every genre out there...and maybe that's why it wasn't particularly difficult to narrow my writing focus down to three (flash notwithstanding).

With my Smurf collecting, I've been trying to narrow the focus down from the start, and it's not working particularly well. Probably because I need that more "general" experience before I can really get to the heart of what I like and want. And you know what that means...

Anyone want a starter pack of worldwide stamps?

Weekly News & Prompt, January 23, 2012

jamie@jamiedebree.com (Jamie D.) — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 18:00:48 GMT

Week 4 Prompt: A woman walks through a park in her hometown, reflecting in the crisp autumn air. The old carousel is still there, though no longer operational, and she climbs the fence and goes to visit the horse she used to call her own. Glancing between the broken mirrors that line the center control room, she spies an old teddy bear lying against the console...

"It's Monday!" she says, the sarcasm evident for all but the unusually dense. "Are you ready to rumble?"

*chewing her lower lip, she wonders if she can use that last phrase without paying a huge licensing fee...considers using a strikeout replacement like all the cool bloggers do...decides not to go to the effort*

Enough of that, eh?

Last week was an odd one, what with two days off from the day job, dinner out nearly every night due to celebrations and just weird schedules, and my rather scattered brain flitting from thing to thing going "Ooo...shiny!" approximately every hour or so. Despite all of that, I managed to get all of my serial scenes done, *and* I also finally finished the erotica novelette that was supposed to top out around 8k words (it ended up being nearly 15k...so almost double). Yay! It's in the very capable hands of my editor at the moment, so this week, I get to start a new story. Not much makes me happier than starting new stories and finishing others...

I've also chosen the stories for the newest Rattles anthology, so if you're a fan of short fiction, be watching for the new anthology on February 3rd. For writers, if you write flash (or want to start), I'll be posting a new prompt tonight on the Rattles blog, submissions will be due on March 16th for an April release.

I didn't quite get to formatting the Flash 52 book (had Rattles and Smurf stuff to do this weekend), but I'm going to start formatting that tomorrow night, and the plan is to have it published by Friday.

This week, more of the same: serial scenes, some Rattles business stuff and formatting, more bookkeeping catch-up, and more work on organizing my various collections (because it's important to have fun too, dang it!). I've decided to delete my organizing blog, because honestly (and ironically), I'll be more organized without having to worry about that.

So that's the run down - I know I've been slacking on email newsletters lately, but as soon as I get the next few things out, I'll get one of those done too. With any luck, that will go out in February.

Despite my lack of enthusiasm for the day, I hope yours is off to a good start, and that it goes by quickly & productively for all of us...

Serial Novel: Falling in Public, Ch. 34

jamie@jamiedebree.com (Jamie D.) — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 12:41:00 GMT

This serial novel is posted in draft form every Friday. To receive each installment via email, please sign up here.

Chapter 34

Shielded by the file cabinets for a few more seconds, Holly glanced out the window to confirm her fears, all too cognizant of the footsteps coming their way. She probably would have been able to make the six foot jump if not for her bad leg, but Eddie could do it.

"You should go," she whispered, pointing to the window. "Get out and get help."

He shook his head, holding a finger to his lips. Looking all around, he finally stopped and pointed to a small space between the wall and the massive desk. In order to get in it she'd have to slide on her butt between two more file cabinets, but even if the men found her they'd have to move a lot of furniture to get to her.

"Go Eddie. Get help." She sat on the floor and started scooting back into the hole. The men were just on the other side of the file cabinets, and she knew they were out of time. As she started pulling herself between the wall and the desk, she saw Eddie disappear, and could only hope he'd gone out the window soon enough.

Wincing at the pain, she pulled her legs up as tightly to her chest as she could and secured them with her arms. Chaos reigned all around, it seemed, and from the bits and pieces of conversation she caught, they assumed both she and Eddie had run off. Careful not to make a sound, she lowered her head to her knees, praying they wouldn't move the desk.

***

It felt like an eternity to Holly as she waited, but when they were finally all gone, she forced herself to stay hidden longer, just to be sure. When she finally began to unfold herself, she swore her legs creaked in protest when she straightened them. But getting out the way she'd gotten in proved nearly impossible, and by the time she was finally out, tears were running down her face and the her wounded leg burned as if she'd been shot all over again.

Not sure whether the men would be back or not, she knew she had to move. The wheelchair would be conspicuous, but she tried taking a few tentative steps, and nearly fell when her bad leg gave out. Resigning herself to the chair, she sat down and propped her foot up on one of the metal rests. Using her arms, she swung the chair around and wheeled herself to the door, listening carefully before she pulled it open.

The halls were empty, and she made good time - better than she'd thought she would. Following Natalie's instructions, she found the door to the parking lot and let herself out, surprised to find the same driver who had taken her home from Eddie's house that day wating in front of the door.

"Eddie told me you might be needing a lift to the hospital," the man said, holding the rear passenger door open. "Do you need help getting out of the chair?"

She shook her head, but didn't argue when he steadied the chair so she could boost herself up and into the car. Waiting impatiently while he stowed the chair in the trunk, she spoke as soon as he got behind the wheel.

"Where's Eddie? Is he okay?"

Writer's Notes: On Censorship & Piracy

jamie@jamiedebree.com (Jamie D.) — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 12:19:00 GMT

There are a lot of web sites blacked out today...a big protest against the government’s (or should we just say Hollywood's, since they're the major backers?) proposed answer to fighting online piracy. As far as I’m concerned, these two laws will be just as effective as DRM (that’s “digital rights management” for books) – they’ll punish more honest people than they will thwart piracy. And the pirates will find ways around it anyway – any computer or network programmer will tell you that.

Censorship is never the answer to any problem, in my opinion. Whether it’s people telling us what we can read, or what kind of music we can listen to, or what web sites we can visit – it never actually stops the people who want that information from getting it. In fact, it usually just makes them want it more, and do whatever it takes to get it. The people who want it bad enough will find a way, and those who are willing to abide by the rules are screwed out of the freedom to make their own choices.

How do we deal with internet piracy? I don’t have a clue...and I have to be honest, I’m just not all that worried about it. Yes, people pirate my books. No, I don’t lose any sleep over it. Those people wouldn’t buy a copy anyway, in my opinion. I’m well aware that plenty of people disagree with me, and that’s fine. Those of you who feel strongly about it are welcome to find a solution, if you can...

...as long as that solution doesn’t impede my ability to view whatever web site I want to visit, and allows me to link to other web sites without fearing that my site will be shut down due to the other site’s behaviors or links.

Obviously, I’m not blacking out my site(s) today. Because it would be hypocritical of me to limit your ability to view content while protesting laws that would do exactly that (I understand the logic of doing just that, I just don’t necessarily agree w/it). I’m not going offline either – I work on the web, it’s my “home”, so to speak, and going offline to make a point about having access to things online also seems a bit backwards. I will, however, be basing at least a portion of my voting decisions this year based on how the legislators from my state act/react to SOPA/PIPA, and I’m doing something I almost never do and sharing a political opinion in public.

I am closing the comments today – if you have an opinion, by all means, write it up, and post it in your online space.

For more information about these laws, Google has a fairly straight-forward run down here, or do a search (yes, you can still search Google), and you’ll find a plethora of articles about the issue.

Thanks for indulging me. *steps off soapbox*

Weekly News & Prompt - January 16, 2012

jamie@jamiedebree.com (Jamie D.) — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 17:28:00 GMT

Week 3 Prompt: A one-hundred dollar bill is crumpled and lying in a stone planter outside a restaurant door, half-hidden by the sculpted juniper bushes growing there. Many people pass by, and then someone sits on the edge of the planter, and discovers the money. When the finder straightens the bill, something is written on it...

It’s 7 degrees (f) out this morning, but I’m cozy on my couch, thanking MLK Jr. for the day off. Of course I still have plenty to do – namely all of the bookkeeping for my book business that I’ve been putting off for months now. Yes, folks, I suck at bookkeeping – not the actual keeping of the books (thank you, Quickbooks), but just getting it done. It’s one of the few areas I torture myself with on a regular basis by putting it off until the job is so huge it takes far longer than it should. If I do nothing else this year, I really need to take a couple hours every month to get my books up to date so I don’t face this oh-so-daunting task again. But first, I get to play catch up...

In other news, as you can see above I have the cover art (very cool, isn't it!) for Flash 52, the book of prompts I wrote to go with this year-long challenge. Which means whenever I get the book formatted, I can release it. I was going to do that over this long weekend, but haven’t quite gotten to it, so next weekend is looking better. Getting closer though!

Speaking of flash, last week’s piece is posted at my alter-ego’s blog, due to the somewhat graphic nature of it. You can swing by over there to check it out if you’re interested. Looking at this week’s prompt, I dare say this week’s story will be fine to post here again.

Tomorrow is my birthday – I’ll be 37. I always take my birthday off from the day job, so I’ll be sleeping in, reading an MS from a friend that I’ve been waiting and waiting and waiting for, writing, and working on cataloging my collections. It’s going to be a good day doing things I love, and I can’t think of a better way to mark another year.

As you can see, I haven’t done anything with the web site/blog...and I probably won’t for awhile. They need a change, for sure, need a little sprucing up, but it will wait.

That’s pretty much all the news I have for this week (so far, anyway). Anything fun going on in your world today?

Storytime: Natural Selection (moved)

jamie@jamiedebree.com (Jamie D.) — Sun, 15 Jan 2012 20:41:01 GMT

I've posted this week's Flash 52 story on my alter-ego's (Alex Westhaven) blog, due to the graphic nature of the piece. If you're interested in reading it, hop on over there - it will be available for one week.

This week's prompt:
A woman is tied to a tree in the woods, dressed in jeans, a tank and a flannel shirt, with heavy hiking boots on her feet, her wrists bound to the trunk behind her and a red handkerchief covering her eyes. She catches a scent on the breeze...

Natural Selection

Don't say I didn't warn you...

Serial Novel: Falling in Public, Ch. 33

jamie@jamiedebree.com (Jamie D.) — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 19:21:00 GMT

This serial novel is posted in draft form every Friday. To receive each installment via email, please sign up here.

Chapter 33

"Why won't they just give up?" Holly whispered, knowing she should keep still, but getting more irritated by the moment. Her leg was on fire, and the idea that she was being hunted down just because she refused to be a pretend girlfriend was absolutely ludacrise. What was wrong with these people that they couldn't just move on?

Eddie leaned close to her ear, keeping an eye on the door. "I'd imagine the thought of going to jail for shooting and kidnapping you provides some motivation."

She nodded, knowing he was right. Still, the whole thing seemed off.

"So any ideas on how we can get out of here? Preferably before they come in?" She raised her eyebrows, though the look on his face told her he was coming up empty. "Why this door, anyway? Why would they think we're here?"

Eddie frowned, then looked up, scanning the ceiling. Holly opened her mouth to ask what he was doing, then suddenly, she knew. Looking up herself, she checked the corners first, then followed his gaze to a spot nearly above them that faced the door. Sure enough, there it was. A small camera hung high on the wall, pointed right at the door.

"So they've known the whole time. Or at least as long as someone noticed the video."

Eddie nodded. "I suppose it doesn't matter how much noise we make now. We've only got two ways out, and they're both blocked."

"I say we break the window," Holly said, looking up at him. "I haven't seen any shadows pass by, so seems like that might be the path of least resistance, right? Then we can make a run for it."

Running a finger over the glass, Eddie shook his head. "It feels pretty thick. I'm not sure we're gonna do that"

Holly examined the surface of the desk, then saw what she was looking for poking out from under a stack of papers. She reached out and grabbed the metal letter opener, carefully testing the point for sharpness.

"We need something to pound with," she said, resuming her search of the desktop. "Something heavy." Finding nothing useful there, she checked the drawers, and the area around the desk.

The doorknob rattled again, and then a big crash dented the center of the door in. "They're coming in, Holly. We're out of time."

She pushed herself out of the wheelchair with effort, then grabbed a round metal paperweight and turned to the window. Jamming the point of the letter opener against the glass, she struck the end with the weight, striking as hard as she could. On the third blow, tiny cracks spidered out over the glass all around the letter opener.

"Here, let me."

Eddie took the rudimentary tools from her, and cracked the glass in several more places, until the entire pane was covered in hairline fractures. Then he motioned for her to stand back, and swung the paperweight over his head, tossing it at the window baseball-style. Holly looked away before impact and Eddie swung her into his arms, putting his back between her and the window, protecting her from any flying shards of glass. When he released her, she realized two things simultaneously as the door behind them burst open.

There was nothing but air on the other side of the window, and no matter which way they turned, they were going to die.