Miss Impractical Pants (50 page)

While Stanley repeated the instructions in Bosnian, Janek rummaged through the house at top speed for supplies.

Indira
rose to her feet too quickly for her feeble frame and swooned. Lucas lunged in and caught her before she hit the floor. He raised her to his chest and held her effortlessly across his arms without as much as a noticeable flex of his muscles. Katie felt a twinge of envy; Lucas had never picked
her
up with such ease. In fact, she knew for certain that there was definite muscle flexing happening the few times he had been her rescuer.

Indira
blushed wildly. The color was a stark contrast to her usual pasty complexion, giving Katie a glimpse of the potential beauty the young woman held. She rested her head timidly against his shoulder, and he smiled that heart-stopping Prince Charming smile at her. Katie knew that like herself, Indira was experiencing a very serious crush.

Stanley scooped up the little bundle of sleeping Marko, and Kata began throwing her sewing materials into a box to take with her.
Katie grabbed the two stools, shoved a Styrofoam head under her arm, and followed the procession down the stairs and along the corridor.

At the very back of the house was a small room, more like a large pantry, that housed an antique desk set, a couple of filing cabinets, and some odds and ends like photo albums and plaques. Taking up the majority of the exterior wall was an old threadbare tapestry. Stanley pulled it aside, revealing an
Alice in Wonderland
-size door, and slowly, methodically, turned the antique combination wheel until the lock clicked.

He
muscled
open the door that squeaked its resistance, then ducked inside. Careful not to jostle Marko, he pulled the cord on a precarious swinging light. He led the way down a short flight of stairs and deposited the sleeping boy on a clumsy recliner, not dissimilar to the one from which the boy was initially scooped. The room must have been roughly eight by eight feet and six feet high, but only Lucas had to crouch down to keep from bumping his head. For a dank stone room, it was remarkably cozy, decorated much like the television room upstairs, minus the television. Populating the majority of the space was a worn loveseat that matched the sofa upstairs, an old recliner, a folding card table, and two matching chairs. In the darkest corner stood a dusty bookcase with a collection of old paperbacks, writing tablets, pens, and a pile of folded blankets. Water storage containers that could have been from the Second World War took up the last two shelves and ran along the perimeter of the wall.

Lucas set
Indira
gently on the loveseat and tucked a blanket around her. The original flush still staining her cheeks, she colored deeper. The effect was radiant. Katie became determined to enhance
Indira’s lovely maiden look by helping Kata finish the long fall of mahogany hair.

“I must make sure the windows are secure,” Stanley told the group, already ascending the stairs.

“And I must pee,” Katie stated.

“Now?”
Lucas interrogated incredulously.

“Yes, now,” she defended. “It’s been a while and who knows how long we’ll be holed up down here.” Turning to Stanley, she asked, “I’ve got enough time for that, don’t I?”

Stanley issued her an indulgent smile and let her pass.

It felt good to be alone…even if it was on the toilet with the threat of maniacal terrorists beating down the door at any minute. Katie purposefully slowed the flow just to have a few extra seconds of contemplation. She must have contemplated too hard, because she was suddenly overcome with the undeniable urge to go number two.

“Oh no!
Not now!” she hissed to her bowels.

“Katie, who are you talking to?” Lucas lightly tapped on the door, anxiety ringing in his voice.

“Just
myself
,” she answered, trying to sound casual, her face flaming hot with embarrassment.

She gave a little push trying to move the process along, but three days’ worth of number twos did not want to be rushed.

“Katie, hurry up, will you?” Lucas demanded, frantic.

“Lucas, go away! Who are you, the bathroom marauder? Why are you always interrupting my most private restroom moments?” She felt the added pressure of now having to do this chore silently as well as quickly.

“Katie, we don’t have time for this, let’s go!” he insisted, his voice commanding.

“Go back to the cellar! I’ll take my chances with the terrorists,” she snapped.

He grunted in frustration. “What are you doing in there?”

She decided the question was too stupid to merit an answer, but bit back a retort on the off chance he was replaying the scene of her twirling panties and figuring her to be doing something equally ridiculous.

“I’m coming in!”

“
Noooo
!” she shrieked. The sudden lurch in her abdomen pushed the bulls through the shoot.

The doorknob rattled, prompting her to begin a frenzied search through every cabinet within her reach for some matches.

“Stop!
I’m going poop!” she confessed, feeling the very last of her pride joining her number two in the toilet.

“Now?
Can’t you hold it?”

“Do you think I’d be dropping the kids off at the pool right now if I had a choice? Go away! You’re just making this more difficult.”

“Hurry up then.” He tried to sound stern, but she heard him sniggering as his footsteps retreated down the hallway.

Paydirt
! She found a book of matches. Lighting every single one, she ensured the residual smoke gobbled up any lingering number-two vapors. Before she could close the cabinet, she spied an unopened triple pack of toothbrushes lying right next to a never-been-squished tube of toothpaste. The temptation was too great as she subconsciously ran her tongue across her filmy teeth. She listened carefully for a
moment but heard no sound of either Lucas or vigilante gunmen. It wasn’t hard convincing herself that brushing her teeth would be an act of community service. Besides, if she had time to wash her hands, she should have time for a quick brush. A stab of guilt stuck into her chest as she tore into the package and popped out a brush. Was she stealing a basic necessity from poor third world people? What had become of her? She scraped her front tooth contemplatively,
then
examined the creamy white tooth-gunk left behind on her fingernail.
Grimy teeth—that’s what had become of her.
She shoved the toothbrush into her mouth, promising to replace the borrowed treasure with a dozen Walmart toothbrushes just like it if they ever got out of this mess.

Happily licking her minty tongue across her minty teeth, she was unperturbed by Lucas’s rude entrance. “I heard the toilet flush ages ago. What are you doing?”

She shrugged sheepishly, unable to hide her toothbrush quickly enough.

“Katie, you stole a toothbrush?”

“
Borrowed
a toothbrush,” she corrected defensively. “Sonja, I’ll call it…and I’m going to replace it.”

His eyes smoldered on the verge of anger. “Are you trying to get us all killed?”

“I couldn’t help myself,” she pouted. “It’s been at least three days—that I can count—since I’ve had any sleep, a poo, or a toothbrush. I saw an opportunity to die with a spring in my step and a twinkle to my teeth, and I went for it.” She held her ground and stared challengingly into his steely eyes. “For having been bound, gagged, thrown into the trunk of a crazy man’s car, and knifed, I’ve been a pretty good sport so far. I think as long as the gunmen aren’t kicking
down the door yet, we deserve a couple of small indulgences before we get locked up in a cellar for who knows how long.”

In a moment of brazen desperation to make him understand, she stepped into him, lassoed an arm around his neck, and kissed him with all the passion deserving of her last mortal kiss.

He seemed to be contemplating the command of her lips, then broke away. His face was still set in severe irritation. She stepped away and dipped her head to hide behind her veil of hair. She wanted nothing more than to join her poo and her pride on the ride down the long sewer pipe.

             
He looked about to speak—then, shaking his head, changed his mind. Snatching the toothbrush from her hand, he stomped over to the sink, grumbling incoherent words. She ventured to look up at him.

He’d already loaded the toothbrush with paste. “May I?”

Smiling a little too readily, she replied, “Sonja would be honored.”

After a quick brush, he wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his too-big-in-the-body and too-short-in-the-sleeves borrowed shirt, he dropped Sonja in the pocket of Katie’s nightshirt. No longer feeling the bold seductress, she took several cowering steps away from him. His head tilted in amusement at her faltering confidence. He flashed a lecherous smile and heeded her advice to enjoy one last indulgence as he reached out and pulled her to him.

The front door nearly banged off its hinges, bringing Lucas and Katie to their senses. He grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her down the corridor. Still in a daze, she forced her good leg to run. She could still feel the residual tingle in her face from the scratch of his budding beard.

Stanley leaned out from the half-size door and motioned wildly for them to get inside. Pushing Katie through first, then
himself
, Lucas helped Stanley pull the reluctant steel door closed.

The next time Katie Sutherland found herself trapped in a bomb shelter, she was going to make damn sure she had a watch. She didn’t know what was making her craziest—the sounds of thunderous stomping and overturned furniture hitting the floorboards above them, the murderous shouts and occasional gunfire, or the inability to gauge how long they’d been silently listening to the marauding.

Katie laid a finished weft of horsehair on the rickety card table,
then
sucked the tip of her finger, hoping to ease the throb of a budding blister. She and Lucas had become so adept in their weaving skills that Kata had been able to concentrate on pinning the wefts to the wig cap secured to the Styrofoam head. Katie regarded how the wig was coming together, and because nobody had spoken one word for what could have easily been a decade, she nodded in satisfaction.

Giving herself an opportunity to stretch the aching muscles in her neck, she looked around to see how the others were faring the quiet captivity. Stanley paced the floor, wringing his hands behind his back. Indira toyed at the stubby tufts of hair underneath her scarf and stole longing gazes at Lucas. Marko still slept in his recliner, and Janek sprawled on the floor in front of him, napping. Katie studied a fleck of ear granola that bobbled in sync with his heavy breathing before returning to her project.

She and Lucas had just handed over their final wefts when the heavy footsteps clunked directly overhead. It seemed as though everyone’s breath caught in unison. A victorious scream pierced through the still room, causing Janek to pop up from his nap and perch, ninja-ready. Katie’s heart raced—then raced even harder in response to
the loud metallic clunk of someone attempting to kick in the hidden door. Angry, muffled words shouted in Bosnian seeped down to them. Stanley looked to Janek, then dropped his head—but not before Lucas and Katie caught the horror in his eyes.

Lucas crossed the room in two easy steps. “What is it, Stanley? What did they say?”