Fan the Flames Read Online Free Page B

swung shut behind him, her heart still beating just a little too fast.
    * * *
    To Rory’s surprise, Billy hadn’t arrived by closing time. At ten minutes after six, she turned the key in the front-door lock. Something to look forward to tomorrow , she thought with a wry smile, twisting the dead bolts and placing the bar across the door. After setting the alarm and turning off all the lights except those she kept on for security, she moved to the back room. Grabbing her coat from the rack, she headed outside.
    Rory immediately shivered and zipped her coat. The wind was tossing sharp BBs of snow around her three-acre patch of evergreens, rocks, and scrub. As she pulled a stocking hat from one of the voluminous pockets, she glanced around at the property. Everything seemed quiet, except for the wind and the hard pellets of snow pinging off her ten-foot chain-link boundary fence—topped, of course, by razor wire.
    Over by the chicken coop, her German shepherd mix lifted his head. Heaving himself to his feet, he shook off the snow clinging to his fur and trotted over. Although he occasionally would hang out in the shop with her during the day, he preferred to stay outside and watch over “his” chickens, barking at any hawks that ventured too close.
    â€œHey, Jack.” She rubbed his ears as he pressed his head into her hand with a low groan of delight. With a final pat, Rory headed around to the front of the shop. Jack followed her through the small gravel parking lot as she made her way to the front gates. Snow had settled into the tracks, and she kicked it free before pulling the gates together. Wrapping the chain around both where they met, she fastened the padlock.
    Jack knew what came next, and he led the way back to the chicken coop. Dusk had fallen, and the last of the light was slipping away. Her hens had already abandoned the greenhouse and their expansive run for the warmth of the coop, so Rory just had to close and latch the door, keeping out any critters that might manage to circumvent the fences.
    Returning to the back door with Jack close on her heels, she double-checked that the shop alarm was on. Rory removed her coat, shaking off the snow before hanging it on the coatrack. She jammed her hat back into her coat pocket and then engaged the dead bolts. Once her nightly routine was finally done, she moved over to a set of shelves lined with tools and cleaning equipment.
    A hidden latch released a section of shelving, allowing it to swing toward her. Behind the shelving was a steel door, designed to resist forced entry. She entered the eight-digit code on the keypad next to the door, waited for the beep, and then pressed her thumb onto the biometric reader. When the light next to the screen glowed green, she used a key to manually open the lock. Each step was smooth, practiced—drilled into her by years of living in the bunker with her parents, before…
    Well. Before.
    The door swung open to reveal stairs descending into darkness. Brushing past her legs, Jack trotted down the steps. Rory hit the light switch before the steel door closed behind her. She heard the familiar and comforting solid click as it relocked. After engaging the manual deadlock, she followed Jack down the stairs.
    When she reached the bottom, she automatically turned off the stair lights as she illuminated the living room. Her entire childhood, she’d been taught to conserve electricity whenever possible. Her photovoltaic and wind system was expansive now, and she had two back-up generators in case of system failure—or even just a stretch of cloudy, calm days—but saving power was second nature.
    All of this was second nature.
    Wandering over to her fridge, she frowned as she pulled out some leftover soup. Normally, she enjoyed this part of her day, when work was done, the animals were warm and safe, and she could unwind in the peace of her underground bunker. This evening, though, Rory felt