| |
Mimic lowered his gun arm and stepped back one pace from the door. That should keep them immobile for a while, and he intended to exploit it. He quickly slid his shoes off and hooked them up with his free hand before padding downstairs in his socked feet. Stepping on the sides of the steps meant they only creaked slightly as he made his way down them and back into the kitchen. Not knowing where he was in the house would keep them afraid.
They wouldn’t unlock the door for a good while, but he had to check any other exits they had. He left his shoes on the counter and quietly opened the back door. He limped a few paces along the deck and noticed a small utility hut further along the riverbank. Perhaps there were some tools there that might be useful.
The pain at his waist intensified with each step. He stopped to put his fingers gingerly against the wound and felt a jolt as he touched it. His mouth filled with saliva as he looked at the blood caking his fingertips. Little shit. He wiped them on his claret shirt.
He turned the corner and slunk down the side of the lodge, stopping at the next corner to look upwards at the windows to the bedrooms. They were all covered with white slatted wooden shutters, so no attempt had been made to open them... yet. There was no drainpipe beside any of them, so if they did try to exit that way, they would have quite a drop to the concrete and probably break their ankles. The bank that the steps were cut into was too far from the lodge to jump to it.
Maybe they’d try to tie some sheets together and climb down, but he’d let them know they should reconsider that. Mimic aimed his gun at the slatted window and put three bullets into it. He could hear them scream as the bullets pierced the wood and glass.
He strolled back around the house and into the kitchen. There was a stack of thick pancakes on a plate. He peeled one off and it was still slightly warm. He stuffed it into his mouth. They were good and rich. Mom obviously used extra eggs in the batter. His head throbbed as his jaw pumped. He tentatively touched the tender area on his scalp and winced.
Mimic turned things over while he painfully ate two more pancakes, and then went down to the cellar.
