Chapter Sixty-Five

The door shook with the force of the crowd outside, throwing themselves against it blindly. Three had moved to the window and already, their palms were bleeding as the glass cracked and pierced their skin, staining the shards red.

Mr Montford and Ash hauled a small book case across the room. The carpet and their haste making it all the more difficult. If there was something for it to snag on or get caught on, then it did. Penalty, perhaps, for dumping its contents into an unsightly pile as if they were logs for the fire.

"Is there an attic?" Marie called as she leaned against the sideboard they'd positioned at the door. The drawers already flung from their cubby with the force from outside. "A basement is no good, we'd be completely trapped. But an attic...that seems safer."

"I didn't see," Mr Montford answered, sweat pouring from his brow and impeding his grip. "I doubt it. I remember these houses being built. People exchanged attics for garages, easier to access."