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Show Twisters . . . 44 there to see all I was seeing. They loved our house as much as I did. Ryan shivered and drew up his knees. Suddenly I had an idea. "Arthur, could we climb out over that pile of bricks on the other side?" He shone the light onto the avalanche of buff-colored bricks along the west wall. "How do we get over there?" Just then a low, moaning 8ound raised hackles on the back of my neck, Arthur jumped off the chair. We froze. The noise rumbled to a crescendo right over our heads, making us jump when it crashed. Thunder! My lord, it was only thunder! "Take Ryan a minute," I said, recovering enough to trade him for the flashlight. "I'll be right back." I left them at the bathroom door and snaked my way alongside the hallway heading north, ducking and burrowing under when I had to. If I could just get to that brickpile . . . Glass crunched underfoot with every step and I kept getting snagged by things I couldn't see. Once I fell and dropped the flashlight in the water. I scraped myself good trying to get it again. The biggest hurdle was a mass of wet carpeting-gold shag from our living room. Or the upstairs hall . I pushed against it. It was too soggy . . . too heavy . . . I'd have to crawl over . . . "Ow, ouch!" I cried as something gouged me in the leg. "You okay?" Arthur yelled. "I'm okay," I answered back, glad he couldn't see my face. My jeans were ripped and I was bleeding, but the wound wasn't mortal, as Arthur says. I kicked viciously at the board with the ugly nails sticking out. How in the world would we get Ryan out without hurting him? The basement was a stupid obstacle course . . . a death trap! |