Glad to say I was able to get a massage in to work on those abused muscles a bit and am now happily medicated, at least enough to put out another chapter or so. Enjoy!
Steve knew the moment he glanced down the broken stairwell ahead, that his "minute" to reach Mike would take significantly longer. Most of the steps right down the middle were missing, having rotted from rain coming through a hole in the ceiling up above and fallen some six feet to the ground, where they remained in a heap of spongy wood and nails.
Studying what was left of the railing skeptically; he reached forward and tried to wiggle it, but found it to be surprisingly sturdy. The floor at the bottom of the steps seemed to be in better shape, having more protection from the compromised structure of the roof than the upper floors.
Sighing, as he prayed for the agility gods to be in his favor today, Steve carefully climbed down the first few steps that still seemed reasonably intact. By the time he reached the fourth one from the top, he could feel the damp wood below shift under his weight.
Taking a careful step back and with his left hand firmly holding on to the railing for support, Steve drew in a deep breath, before leaping across the broken stairwell to the ground some six feet below.
Grateful that his long legs allowed him to gap the significant distance, the young Inspector kept his knees relaxed in preparation for the landing. Much to his surprise, the force of the impact against the hard wooden floor caused him to lose his balance and tumble forward. Trying to avoid an uncontrolled fall, Steve tucked his chin to his chest and rolled shoulder-first across the floor, until the side wall stopped him.
His summersault across the room seemed to have woken up their two victims, when he heard a faint whimpering coming from the adjacent kitchen.
Steve carefully got back up on his feet, taking a quick survey of the living room that seemed pleasingly deserted. An old door on the east side was shut and he made a note to check out where it led to once he could get Mike inside. Cautiously pushing himself against the wall to the kitchen, Steve slowly inched his way towards their victims, his eyes trained on the doorframe ahead.
Reaching across his chest for the .38, he peeked around the corner, where the small window over the rusty kitchen sink provided enough light to see two people chained to an O-ring attached to a metal bracket in the worn-out linoleum floor.
The girl was dressed in a thick white coat and dark jeans, looking to be no older than maybe twenty-five. A small bruise on her right cheek seemed to be her only injury. A purple hairband holding her blond locks together had partially slipped off during a struggle.
The wide-eyed young man next to her was heavy set, with unkempt brown hair and a bloody lip, wearing a ragged gray sweatshirt and old corduroy pants, leading Steve to believe he might be homeless.
Waiting until both made eye contact with him, he carefully put his finger to his lips, shh'ing them in case of any unwelcome onlookers.
From his distance Steve could see a set of concrete steps leading to the backdoor of the farm house. And along with it, he noticed the reason their break-in attempts hadn't worked.
A large metal bar was secured across the door right above the deadbolt, accessible only from the inside. Glancing back, he noticed the front door featuring the same protective mechanism, which could only mean one thing.
Somewhere in this house was a third entrance way.