EIGHTEEN
Perry swung the sledgehammer again, smashing its broad head into the door. There was a loud crack and more wood splintered as the hammer broke through the barrier. Behind him, several of the boys cheered. Woodboring insects squirmed around the edges of the hole. Sweat ran into his eyes, stinging them. Blinking, Perry swung again. This time, he aimed for the ornate brass doorknob. He connected hard. The vibration ran up through the hammer handle and into his arms, numbing his hands. He set the sledgehammer down, leaning it against the porch railing. Then he turned around and held his hand out to Chris.
“Let me see that crowbar.”
Chris handed it to him, and Perry went to work on the doorknob. It gave way easily enough, tumbling to the porch and rolling across it before landing on the sidewalk. Dookie started to run after it, but Perry stopped him.
“Leave it.”
“But that’s brass,” Dookie protested. “You know how much that shit is worth down at the scrap yard?”
“Leave it alone,” Perry repeated, turning back to the door. “We’ve got more important shit to worry about right now.”
His knees popped as he stood, and his hands ached from the exertion. Perry knew that he’d regret it tomorrow when his arthritis was flaring, but right now, he didn’t care. He pushed on the door, leaning his weight into it. Still, the heavy barricade refused to move.
“What the hell?” he muttered. “I think there’s something on the other side of this thing.”
Leo rushed to the door, bent over, and peered through the jagged hole made by the sledgehammer. His eyes widened. Then he glanced up at Perry.
“It looks like a big piece of metal or something.”
“Shit.” Sighing, Perry wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Okay, you boys help me get this door out of the way. Then we can see what we’re dealing with.”
“Well,” Jamal said, “now we know, right?”
Perry pried at the door’s hinges with the crowbar.
“Now we know what?”
“That whoever is inside there must be holding them white kids hostage. Why else would there be metal blocking the doorway.”
“The kids could have put it there themselves,” Markus pointed out. “Try to keep us out and shit.”
“They didn’t know we were coming,” Leo said.
“Maybe not. But they damn sure heard us trying to break through this door.”
“Yeah, but then we would have heard them dragging the metal in place.”
Perry snapped the hinges free, set the crowbar down, and grabbed the door. The boys ran to his aid. Together, they hefted the wooden slab out of the door frame and carried it down the porch steps and into the yard. Then they inspected the second obstruction. It was indeed metal—steel, in fact. It completely blocked the opening. Perry could see no rivets or welding marks. It was one solid piece, as best he could tell. He rapped on it with his knuckles and then struck it with the crowbar, but it had no effect—not even a dent.
“Shit.”
“Can you smash it down with the sledgehammer?” Chris asked.
“I can try,” Perry said. “But I don’t think that’s gonna get us anywhere. That son of a bitch sounds pretty damned thick.”
Leo cocked his head, studying the steel blockade. “There’s a hole in it.”
Perry frowned. “Where?”
“Up near the top.” Leo pointed. “See? It’s small, but it’s there.”
They all glanced at where he was pointing. Perry squinted, and then saw it. The hole was about five inches from the top of the barrier and very tiny, no bigger than the tip of his pinky.
“It looks like a peephole,” Chris said.
“I think that’s exactly what it is,” Perry replied.
“Can you hammer it there?” Dookie asked. “Maybe it’s weaker around that spot.”
Perry shook his head. “No. That steel is still pretty thick. I don’t think hitting it there will do any good.”
Leo took the crowbar from Perry’s hand and reared back, clutching it in both hands. Then he shoved forward, slamming it into the bottom of the door, right into the part where the metal met the floor. Dookie shone the flashlight on the doorway. Leo looked up at Perry.
“Hit it.”
“That’s not going to—”
“Go on,” Leo insisted. “If we can get the crowbar wedged in under the metal—even a little bit—maybe we can raise it up or move it out of the way.”
“Yeah,” Perry agreed slowly. “Maybe so. But that means you’re going to have to hold the crowbar in place, and if I miss when I’m swinging, I could break your hand or worse.”
Leo grinned. “Then don’t miss, Mr. Watkins.”
“Nobody likes a smartass, boy,” Perry said, returning his grin. Then he glanced at Dookie. “Keep that flashlight trained on the crowbar. Don’t shine it in my eyes or nothing.”
Dookie nodded. “I won’t.”
Perry grabbed the sledgehammer, steadied his aim, and swung. The broad hammerhead struck the end of the crowbar with a loud metallic clang. Both tools shuddered. Leo flinched, but his hands remained steady, holding it in place. Perry swung again and again—a dozen times. He didn’t think they were making any progress, but then Leo told him to stop.
“Look there,” the boy said. “It’s underneath the metal. Give it a few more whacks.”
Licking his lips, Perry struck the crowbar a half dozen more times. Each blow rang out down the street, but if anyone heard the commotion, they didn’t show up to investigate. When he was finished, he glanced toward his home, hoping to see the flashing red lights of a police car or other emergency vehicle. Instead, all he saw was darkness.
Leo stood, flexed his hands and fingers, and then pushed down on the crowbar. He grunted with exertion and the veins in his neck and forehead stood out, but the steel barricade didn’t move.
“Here,” Perry said, gently ushering him aside. “Let me give it a try.”
He applied his weight to the crowbar. At first, it didn’t budge, but then slowly, with a loud groan, the metal began to slide upward.
“That’s it,” Leo said. “Keep going, Mr. Watkins!”
Perry pressed harder, grunting with the effort. The barrier slid higher. Judging by the feel, he guessed that it was affixed to some type of hidden pulley system. He wondered who had manufactured it and why.
“Get underneath it,” he gasped. “Heavy.”
The boys darted forward and slid their fingers into the crack.
“Hold it there,” Perry said. “Don’t let it fall. If it starts to slip, jump clear. Don’t need any of you getting your fingers chopped off.”
When he was sure they had a firm grip on the door, Perry released the crowbar and moved to help them. The metal slid back down an inch, but the boys managed to hold it aloft. Perry grabbed the edge, wedging himself between Markus and Jamal. The surface was cold and rough.
“Okay,” he said. “Count of three, let’s lift it as high as we can. One . . . two . . . three!”
Moving as one, they strained and groaned, lifting the heavy slab of metal higher. They stood slowly. Perry’s knees popped with the effort. The door squeaked as it rose over their heads. They gave it one last shove and heard something click into place. The steel barrier disappeared, held aloft by some hidden mechanism. The house stood open to them, a yawning, black mouth. Perry peered into the darkness and saw some kind of foyer.
“Okay.” He sighed and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Y’all ready?”
The boys nodded, but none of them spoke. They stared straight ahead, as if hypnotized.
Perry retrieved the handgun from Leo and gave him the crowbar. Markus hefted the sledgehammer. Chris, Jamal, and Dookie wielded the flashlights. Taking a deep breath, Perry stepped inside. He moved cautiously, licking his lips as he walked. His breaths were slow and deep, his pulse fast. The pistol trembled in his hand. The kids followed him one by one.