No Exit by Taylor Adams 2

outwitted him for the third or fourth time tonight. She hoped
he was keeping score. She hoped the self-proclaimed magic
man was getting pissed off.
Sandi squinted through the glass. “I can’t … I can’t tell
what they’re doing—”
“They’re guarding the cars,” Darby said.
Ashley’s words echoed in her mind, like half-remembered
strands of a nightmare: We’re going to catch you. And when
we do, you little bitch, I’ll make you beg for that Ziploc bag—
At the window, Ed tugged Sandi’s shoulder. “Stay down.”
“I see them. They’re moving—”
“Stay away from the goddamn window, Sandi. They’re
going to shoot you.”
Darby chewed her lip, knowing Ed was right — the glass
was a major structural weakness. A bullet, or even a big rock,
and the two brothers could climb the snowdrift and slide
inside.
She stood in the center of the room, spotlighted under
fluorescent lights, running her fingertips along the table’s
scratched surface. She turned a wobbly three hundred and
sixty degrees, scanning from east, to north, to west, to south.
Four walls on a cement foundation. A front door with a
deadbolt. One large window. And two smaller ones, in each
restroom.
We have the building.
But they have the cars.
“It’s a stalemate,” she whispered.
Sandi looked at her. “Then what happens next?”
“They’ll make their move,” Ed said grimly. “Then we’ll
make ours.”
Each move would be a calculated risk. If they stepped
outside they’d be shot. If the brothers attacked the building,