It was then that Christy had had enough.
"That's it. We're getting out of here," she said to Sean. Sean was barely listening, since he was barely awake, but he seemed interested in the idea. He tried to say something that might have been either an encouragement or a dissuasion, but Christy was focused on other things.
There were two things in her room: a light bulb and a chair. She turned her attention to the second. The picked the chair up by its wooden back and smashed it against the wall, repeating the maneuver until it broke into pieces. She pried and picked at the seat until she dislodged a single long, sturdy nail. She then traversed the room and kicked at the crumbling drywall around the window frame until a chunk of jagged concrete flaked off. She wasn't strong enough to break down the thick wooden door, and Sean was in no condition to help, but they didn't need to. They only had to be stronger than its weakest part.
Sean made a faint questioning noise as Christy approached the door. She wedged the tip of the nail underneath the lightly rusted metal of the uppermost hinge and hammered on it with the concrete. It was slow going, and soon her fingers were raw and bruised, but it worked. The hinge slowly started to warp and bow under the pressure, and soon she could alternately pry it with her fingers and attack it with her makeshift chisel. Finally, she yanked it loose, the force of the pull causing her to fall on her behind. She started on the second as Sean tried to get to his feet. By the time he got over to help her, she was halfway through the final hinge. She kicked up her pace when she saw him coming, not wanting to hurt his pride if he tried, and surely failed, to help. She dodged aside as the door teetered and fell heavily into the room.
"Let's go," she said. She strode outside the door and turned to wait for Sean. He tried to stride outside the door and slid down the wall to prevent a worse fall.
"It's okay. Go ahead," he said.
"Nu-uh. I'm not leaving you for Carver to find," Christy said. Sean pointed as his ruined leg.
"I can't even walk," he said.
"Still no," Christy said. She bravely knelt to haul him to his feet. She then discovered just how much heavier men are than women when her efforts were entirely useless.
"I'll be fine. You have to go," Sean said.
"No!" Christy insisted. She took hold of his shirt with both hands and started to slowly inch him across the ground like a log.
"You'll never get out like this," Sean said.
"Then you better move it," Christy said. Sean did his best to scoot himself after her with his arms and one good leg, and they plodded down the hall like Christy was a husky pulling a sled backwards.
When they reached the stairs, all seemed lost. But Christy wasn't done yet, and though Sean dearly wanted to be done, Christy wasn't having it. She eased Sean down one step at a time, bracing herself against his weight by draping across the railing. It was a harrowing process as she heard Sean's yelps, and it was far worse for Sean as he made the yelps. But at last they reached the ground floor.
The ground floor was more of a garage. It was open on both sides to massive doorways made to accommodate equipment as tall as industrial excavators. Tucked into one side, behind the far outer wall, there was a single brown car.
"We have a car?!" Christy asked. She hadn't thought much farther ahead in her plan, but driving off sounded a lot better than dragging Sean to civilization or stashing him somewhere safe.
"It was for if you got away," Sean said.
"Well, perfect!" Christy said. "You wait here." She draped Sean neatly on the ground and ran to the car. Since it was intended to be used at a moment's notice and they were in the middle of nowhere, the keys were conveniently stashed behind the sun visor.
Oh, I don't have a license! She thought as she turned the key. Screw it.
She drove across the garage to the far door, where she'd left Sean. She opened the back door to the car and awkwardly assisted as he crawled painfully in. She shut the door behind him and stood back up. Over the bumper of the car, she saw what she'd been dreaming of since the whole nightmare began.
"Dad!" she yelled. For Vito was across the room, just walking through the other side of the garage. He looked as underwhelmed as always, but she knew he was just as excited as she was. She started to cross behind the car when his expression changed. He looked at something over her shoulder and reacted like a triggered guard dog. She whirled around to see what the problem was, but by then it was too late.
