From BLOOD ON THE MOUNTAIN by David Burton
While they waited, Justine inspected the room. There was no way to get out without explosives, except the door. Sure, they could beat a hole with their fists through the concrete walls, in about a year or two. They were not in a comic book and their superpowers were limited.
“I don’t think this room was made to be a cell,” Justine said as she roamed the fifteen by ten foot chamber.
“A storeroom, probablement,” Simone said as she circled the room in the opposite direction.
They came together by the wooden door, which had thick rusty iron straps and a five inch square peep hole covered by a steel plate on the outside. Justine touched the door. “Wood, old, two inches thick. What do you think?”
Standing off to the side, Simone said, “Maybe try the peephole first?”
“Sure, why not?” Justine flexed a fist.
Too late—Simone punched through the hole. The steel plate slammed back on its hinges. She stepped back, then graciously said, “You can look.”
“Show off.”
Justine put her eye to the peephole, then jumped back as the muzzle of a shotgun poked through.
A deep German accented voice said, “You are to be kept in one piece, but if you come through I will shoot you. Sie verstehen?” He didn’t give them a chance to respond, just withdrew the gun and slammed shut the plate.
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