Excerpt: The Light in Her Eyes

Light in Her Eyes is out on several channels, to include an audio version on Audible (and itunes as well). Today, I've included the beginning to this story and hope it drags you in. You can find the ebook at several places:
Amazon
B&N
Smashwords
Sony
Diesel
Kobo


Enjoy!
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I walk up the stairs to the door. The aroma of six sprays of cologne lingers in my nose. She's supposed to be waiting inside. I knock once and stand back. The building is made of wood, and in this heated hallway a smell like a sauna permeates the air. I stamp my feet and knock again, giving the knob an extra twist incase she left it open to surprise me.

H e l p .

I cock my head. Did I just hear something?

I jiggle the door and kick it with my foot.

Jenny? I say.

Help.

I hear that cry as it tickles my gut. It's her, all right, but she sounds weak, as if she's being smothered.

Jenny? Give me a second.

I kick the door, but it's made of solid oak and doesn't budge one inch. I step back and kick again. The door makes to sneer at me by not moving an inch. Instead, vibrations travel through my body. It's painful. I broke both ankles in a car accident, so I decide not to kick the door again.

The neighbors, maybe they keep a spare key. I run over and knock. Nothing. I knock again and yell. Nothing.

Back at Jenny's door I smell wood burning.

Help, fire.

I have no time. I know I can't call the fire department because they are more than an hour away. I'd always said it was stupid to live someplace so far away from civilization. Now she's paying.

I think back to my days as a teenager, and pull out a paper clip. I run outside the building. Gray skies sulk down on my head. The cold air attacks my lungs and skin. I find a rock and head back to the warmth of the building.

Help. Her voice is louder now.

I stretch the paper clip out and slam one end with the rock until the paper clip is flattened. I hurry back to the door. The smell of something burning is distinct now. I jiggle the keyhole with the clip. Nothing. Five minutes later, nothing. I have to get in. I wonder if I can climb through her window.

I run outside, hugging my coat as the air surprises me again with its ferocity; a wind has picked up. Beneath her window, I check and see that there's no way to climb up. Nor do I have rope to rappel from the roof. I check out the trunk of my car. Still nothing. Why don't I have anything of use here?

The tool shed. The building maintenance man keeps a toolshed stock full of goodies. I run over to the small red shack. It's bolted shut. I jiggle the lock a few times. There's no opening it. I rap my knuckles against the wood side. I give it a soft kick, wary of my ill-fused bones.

My heart is trying to break out of my ribcage now, and even though it's cold, I'm sweating. I can taste something like blood in my mouth. The side of the shed is strong. I can't kick through it.

The car.

I sprint over, slipping on ice and falling on my knee. I limp-run over, start the car, and pop it into first gear. I grip the steering wheel and steady myself. Yes, this has to be done, and you can ask for forgiveness later. I slam the gas. The car takes off, the backend wiggling. I aim for a corner of the shed and slam into it. The car shatters the corner. I back it out.

Half of my car is destroyed or scratched to death. I step inside the shed. An ax.

I run back up and hack at the door. I don't hear anything from inside when I pull the ax out and slam it into the door. The sound of wood giving way is very comforting. Soon I have a hole and I stick my hand through it and open the door.

Inside her place nothing has been moved and the air is clean.

I hear faint clapping. I turn from the hallway to the living room. She's standing in the middle giving a mock golf clap.