“Help,” I tried again. More muffled sounds and chokes.
Now that I had my heart beat under control, I could hear the outside sounds. Aircraft taking-off, ground vehicles moving, and was that voices? I willed myself to perfect stillness. Someone was outside, talking.
“Tell Eddie, that he needs to get his carburetor fixed,” said one raspy voice.
“You know…” strayed off another voice.
I strained to hear, but the second man was soft spoken and his voice got softer and softer. I heard some shuffling sounds and realized that they were walking away. If I had to attract their attention it had to be now.
I struggled to roll. And roll again. It took my breath away. But this was my only chance. So I tried again. And again. Until I finally got moving, and moving until I hit a wall. Even I heard, the slight juggling sound. I tried, rolled over and tried again and tried screaming, “Help!” Over and over again.
I had to. There was nothing else I could do. I couldn’t give up hope, when I was this close. No matter the consequences. I didn’t care about the pain. I didn’t care that with every twist, my whole body contorted even more. I didn’t care that my body protested over and over again. I had to keep going, as long as there was a chance. As long as there was hope. So, I continued rolling, and rattling the door.
It had to be a hanger door.
I rocked it over and over again, incessantly. I didn’t care what I was doing to myself, or to my body. All I knew, was I wanted out of here. As long as there was someone outside nearby, I needed to do everything I could, to attract their attention.
“Help,” I tried again. This time, I could hear a feeble voice. “Help,” I repeated more forcefully. I rolled harder, rocking the hanger door harder.
“Did you hear that,” I heard a man say, as I panted and puffed, commanding my heartbeat to slow down.
“What?” asked another voice, “I heard nothing? What do you mean? Now don’t beat about the bush. I was saying….”
I forgot all the pain, rolled hard and rattled the door again.
“Help!” I tried again as I rocked harder over and over again trying to attract the attention of whoever was outside nearby.
“There,” said the first man. “Did you here that? There is someone in that hanger. Isn’t that Wilson’s unused hanger? Am pretty sure I heard banging in there. Let’s see if we can get it open, and then we can talk again.”
I really wasn’t sure how lucky I was, until I saw the hanger door open and two men arguing whether they heard anything or not. They continued on for some minutes, oblivious to the fact that I lay there.
“I tell you there is someone behind this door, why don’t you believe me?” persisted the first man.
“What do you mean someone is inside the hanger? See, satisfied there is no one……”
“What the devil are you staring at man, I tell you…” both turned abruptly at the same moment and stared aghast at me lying prone, all trussed up.
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