10.
"Tony? Tony! Are you okay?"
He fought to open his eyes, but it took superhuman effort to do so. "L-Laurel? Honey, you…okay?"
"I am, but you're…" The little girl was crying, patting gently at his face with a wet cloth.
"I'll survive, it isn't the first time that I've been worked over. Can you help me up?"
Laurel wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled as he pushed. "What can I do?"
"See if there's a first aid kit in the bathroom. Then bring me a bowl of water, some more towels and a mirror. Okay?"
Laurel ran off to get the items he requested. Tony pressed his hand against his right side. If he was any judge, at least one of his ribs was cracked. He took the mirror from Laurel and surveyed his face, or what he could see of it. His vision was blurry.
Slowly he cleaned the blood off his face, took a butterfly bandage and tried to pull a particularly bad cut closed again. Laurel watched anxiously, walking back to the kitchen with the bowl of bloody water and returning with a clean bowl.
"Where are my shoes?" Tony asked, looking down at his bare feet.
"I think they took them. They took all the clothes from the house and my shoes and socks."
"What for?"
"I don't know, but I think something has gone wrong. They were fighting after you passed out." She peered at him closely. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Don't worry about me, pumpkin. Can you tell me what they said?"
Laurel sighed, leaning her chin on her hand. "I couldn't hear everything, but Ms. Giles was upset about you being a federal agent. Said that it increased the, uh, the heat. Billy wanted to leave now. I think he said he wanted to cut his losses."
"What did the fair Annabelle say to that?"
"I don't know. Her voice got really quiet, and then she started grabbing all the clothes. I jumped onto the bed and acted like I'd been there all the time. But she took the blanket off the bed as well."
"Good girl."
Laurel touched Tony's arm gently. "I think…"
"What?"
"I think they're gonna do something. To you."
"Other than this?"
"Uh huh. Oh, Tony, I'm scared. I think they might kill you," she wailed, throwing herself into his arms.
Tony grimaced, but held the sobbing girl close to his chest. "Shhh, Laurel. I'll be okay. Remember, we have our secret way out of here."
As the day passed on, it got colder in the room. Tony discovered that all the wood had been removed, as well as the blankets and quilts on the beds and in the closets. Sheets had been left behind and, somehow, Tony's jacket had been overlooked or hadn't been considered warm enough. He began stripping all the material off the beds and picked up the towels to wrap around Laurel.
"But what about you, Tony?"
"I'm fine. Cold weather is my middle name."
"That doesn't make sense."
Tony considered that. "No, I guess it doesn't. But it sounded good when I thought about it."
It wasn't much of a smile, but it was better than nothing. Laurel curled her feet up under the coverings, wearing the roughly fashioned booties that Tony had made from the leather easy chair's covers. They weren't good enough to walk in, but sufficient for keeping her feet warm. "What are we going to do, Tony?"
"I'm going outside and scout around, see what I can find. I want you to stay right here. If they knock, run to the tunnel and into the woods. I'll find you. I promise."
"I'm scared."
"I know, Laurel. But I'll be back."
"Okay." She sniffed. "Be careful."
"You, too." He looked once more at the brave young girl, torn between finding a way out for them and staying with her. Things were coming to a head fast. He couldn't wait for rescue, he had to organize their escape. Tony leaned down and kissed Laurel on the forehead. "Remember, if they knock, run. Run as fast as you can to the deepest part of the woods. I'll find you."
"I will, Tony. I will."
He quickly left before he could change his mind. The agent had already pushed the heavy walnut bed off the tunnel entrance. Now he flipped the rug back and pulled the wood cover up, pushing it to one side. With one more look, he slipped down into the darkness, pulling the rug back across the opening in an effort to cut the flow of cold air into the cabin.
/The plot thickens. More coming.../