“Over here!”
Vaughn dashed around the back of the barn, finally saw her. Ivy was wrenching on the barn door, but it was locked. Firmly, judging by the way that it didn’t even rattle in its frame when Ivy heaved.
“It won’t open!”
“Out of the way.”
Ivy stepped back and Vaughn tried the door—no luck.
He kicked it next, but it barely budged.
Old-ass shed was fitted with a reinforced door and a lock worthy of a prison cell. He could kick the damn thing for hours but would only end up with a broken foot.
The hissing sound had grown so loud now that it was impossible to hear if there was anyone inside.
“Wait here,” Vaughn told Ivy and then was off again, running back toward his car.
He popped the trunk, grabbed two masks that he’d asked Delaney to put in there for this very possibility, and a crowbar.
When he returned to the barn, Ivy was still at the door, grabbing, pulling, doing everything she could to try and break in.
“Put this on!” Vaughn ordered.
Ivy didn’t hear him.
“Put this on!”
He thrust the mask at her, made sure she took it before he pulled his own mask over his head. As Ivy adjusted the straps for a snug fit, Vaughn wedged the crowbar between the door and the frame.
Leaned on it, grunting with the effort.
“C’mon...”
He pushed harder, sweat dripping from his forehead and dotting the plastic shield in front of his eyes. The frame finally splintered and popped. Vaughn dropped the crowbar and kicked the door. It flew inward. A wave of cool air struck him.
Cool air that reeked of rotten eggs.
“Stay outside!” he shouted over his shoulder as he entered the shed.
The sound was deafening, and Vaughn identified the source of the gas immediately. A crude hole had been made—broken?—in the wall. Same shitty dryer duct.
Same death trap.
Vaughn saw the man next.
He was bald, glasses askew on his face. Lying motionless on his back. Tape covered his mouth, and the way his arms were angled behind him suggested that they were bound.
A piece of paper was attached to his chest.
Vaughn started to gag, but wasn’t sure if this was because of the horrible smell or the actual toxicity of the hydrogen sulfide.
Didn’t care.
He grabbed one of the man’s legs and pulled. Ivy grabbed the other—of course, she hadn’t listened about remaining outside.
Together they dragged him onto the grass.
Ivy was saying something, repeating the same word over and over again, but with the gas still hissing and the blood pumping in his ears, Vaughn couldn’t make it out.
