He stayed still for several long moments, listening carefully until he was sure the house was empty again. 

Only then did he continue his pa!nful crawl forward.

When he reached the wall near the old heater, he ran his fingers across the peeling paint until he found a soft section of wood. The chute.

He pulled out the bent nail he had discovered on the basement floor the day before. Using it like a weak chisel, he chipped at the rotten wood. Small flakes crumbled away.

He kept digging with desperate focus until a thin stream of cold air brushed against his knuckles. A quiet laugh escaped his lips. It sounded more like a sob than anything else.

He pushed forward until the small metal door finally gave way. Then he crawled back toward Pippa. When he lifted her into his arms, she let out a faint cry, her voice barely more than a whisper. “It is alright,” he murmured into her hair. “We are leaving.”

He dragged her carefully across the floor toward the chute. Fitting her through the narrow passage was difficult, but with patience and quiet reassurance, he managed to guide her inside. 

Then he forced himself in after her.

His br0ken leg scraped against the rough edge, and tears filled his eyes from the pain. Still, he kept moving until cold morning air touched his face.

They tumbled onto wet soil behind the house. A tall brick wall surrounded the yard. Rylan stared at it for several seconds while his exhausted body begged him to stop.

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