Page 75 of Catching Fire

Turning around, she headed into the bathroom where she found a box of band aids and a half-used tube of antibiotic ointment. She shoved them in her pockets and realized she needed a bag. There was nothing in the bathroom or bedroom—no backpack, no duffel, no bags at all. She headed back into the kitchen, looking out the front window as she passed, afraid of seeing the car coming up the drive. She could run now if she needed to, but she wasn't anywhere near finished.

Luckily, there were a few old plastic bags shoved under the sink and she grabbed one. She put in the band aids, ointment, and headed back into the bedroom, throwing in a second pair of jeans and another long sleeved shirt. She refilled her plastic cup as she passed by the bathroom.

Now was the real work, she thought as she laid everything on the counter in the kitchen. She’d hauled a plastic jug from under the sink and she pulled the milk from the fridge. She needed just a few more things. She had to pull this off or they would never find her.

Chapter Forty-Nine

This was taking far too much time,Seline thought as she ran toward a designated space in the yard behind the house, setting down the bag and the largest cups she’d found, full of water. She then left all the precious things she needed and headed back inside.

She wished she could have taken the gallon jug of milk and filled it with water, but she needed it for other things. She had plenty of food, but had found no safe containers for water—these cups were all she had for her escape. At least if she found more she could carry it.

She scurried inside, already moving better since the food had hit her system. She hadn’t quite been ready to shock it with the twinkies she’d scrounged up, but they waited for her in the bag sitting at a distance in the back yard.

She'd left the side door open as there was no point in hiding her presence here. In a little while, hopefully many people would know someone was here. She moved through the place, room by room, waving a filthy old sheet pan she’d found and spreading the smell.

Before she’d run her things outside, she’d turned on the gas stovetop and blown out the pilot light. From what she'd seen, the gas was piped in from a tank on the far side of the property. That would do.

Now she looked over everything she’d prepared for this final piece of her plan.

The milk jug was now empty and relatively thoroughly cleaned. It would be perfect.

In the bathroom, she’d found rust remover and heavy duty tile cleaner. On the stove, Sanders’ empty pots sat ruined, destroyed by her boiling down the toxic liquids she'd found. Now, as the smell of gas permeated the air, she poured the thickened and cooled liquids into the waiting jug.

While she’d waited for the cleaners to boil then cool, she’d pulled aluminum foil from under the sink and shredded it into small slivers. She had a good-sized pile and she wished she had a way to weigh it and see if it was too much or too little. But her abductor did not have a kitchen scale. She would have to guess.

There were no funnels in this kitchen so she’d created a paper one to help keep her new formula from sloshing. She couldn’t afford to lose a drop.

Then she set the paper onto the counter, touching only the edges and not the soaked parts—she didn’t have the time to treat a chemical burn right now. Seline plucked another piece of paper and rolled it into another quick funnel, tucking the edge and making it stay.

With a sharp prayer she held the jug—funnel and all—under the edge of the counter and scraped the shavings into the mouth. A few fluttered away, but she just started the clock ticking, and she couldn’t afford to retrieve them.

She stepped into the living room, her breath held against the now strong odor of natural gas. She capped the jug and shook it once.

She lifted the cap briefly to vent it, then shook it a second time. She could feel the liquid inside begin to heat and she smiled to herself. As she shook it a third time, it became almost too warm to touch. But she needed to keep going.

She shook it hard, counting as she did.Four. Five. Six.

That would have to do. She set it carefully in the center of the living room, wishing she could have thrown it, but this concoction required ginger handling. The moment it touched the floor, she ran.

Slapping the kitchen door shut behind her she bolted for her things. Taking no time to stop and be careful, she leaned down as she went by and snatched them to her. The water sloshed a bit from both cups, a small leaf had fallen into one of them, but she couldn’t worry about such things.

She ran another ten paces before the silence bothered her. She went another twenty before she became truly concerned. Another ten and she stopped.

Turning, she looked back. It should have happened already.

Had it been too weak, and nothing had happened?

She had matches tucked in the back pocket of Sanders’ jeans—now hers—in case she had to go back and light the place by hand, but that would be far too dangerous to get close, and she hadn’t yet figured out how to do it in a way that would be safe for her … well, shehadfigured it out, she thought. It just didn’t seem to be working.

Seline hurried farther and farther away until eventually she deemed herself safely away. Turning around again, she walked backwards for a few paces before deciding that was a wonderful way to back directly into Sanders.

Paranoid, she spun a rapid circle, scanning the whole area. But she saw no one. So she beelined for the trees again, though this time she aimed for a different place. If Sanders had actually managed to trace her footsteps, or follow any kinds of marking or trail she'd left the night before, then he would go where she had been.

But she was banking on the fact that no one would expect her to go back. Certainly not Sanders.

She was disappointed now. She’d wasted all that time to ruin his house. She’d destroyed all the food with the gas. She’d broken the window. He couldn’t stay there anymore. But she’d also destroyed her only source of water and food.It should have worked!

She was almost to the treeline again, but this time, as she stepped into the shade of the firs, she heard a noise. It still wasn’t the noise she had hoped for, it was tires on gravel.

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