I can’t see where the gun is. I doubt he’s holding it while climbing, but I’d hate to be wrong.
Reaching out, I touch the lever with my right hand.
It’s metal, so it’s cold, and I can’t help but shiver.
“Turn it left!”
“I’m doing it!”
I turn the lever.
It creaks and moans, but it moves, very slowly.
“Keep going!”
I turn it, and keep turning it, grasping it harder whenever it sticks.
I’m breathless from my efforts by the time I hear a clanking sound, and I find I can’t move the lever around even a fraction more.
I let it go, catching my breath.
“I think that’s it!”
“Well, push it up then!”
I really wish he was close enough to kick.
Sighing, I realize I’ll have to move up the ladder a little bit more to be able to push the hatch open. I take my time, and I test out pushing with one hand.
Nothing happens.
It’s as heavy as it looks.
I bring my hand back down and position my body a little differently, knowing I’m going to have to push hard and not lose any momentum. I move up another rung and crouch slightly.
Then I put one hand up, and then the other, feeling my knees shake under me as I place my hands on the metal above me.
I don’t know if I have the strength, or the energy to pull this off, but I’m going to have to try.
I push upwards, straightening as I start to hear more creaking sounds.
It’s working!
I push harder, and I can feel the damn thing moving this time.
It’s heavy, but once I’m standing straight, it starts to move back on its own.
I let out a weary breath.
So much for my plan to slam it shut in Warren’s face.
The thing is on some kind of mechanism, and it’s way too heavy to try to lift.
I barely managed to push it up a few inches.
“It’s open. Climb out!” he yells.
I move up the last of the rungs, bending forward to climb out of the hole at the top.
