The sound of the metal drill still purred from the open vault doorway below. Norman wondered how long it would be before the burglars realized they were in the wrong place.

Norman stopped two steps from the bottom and looked down at the object of his pursuit. The hand didn’t even look real; it looked like a prop, something you might find on the floor of a horror-movie set or the back wall of a magician’s shop. He had been in such a rush to fetch the grisly item that he hadn’t considered how he might accomplish such a feat, which would put him in plain view of the drillers. His only chance would be if their backs were turned.

He peeked around the corner. For the moment, he was in luck. He saw two men, diligently probing one of the many steel doors that lined the walls. Strewn about their feet were the remains of the ten priceless books they had pulled from the vaults. Norman hated to think of the loss the mess represented.

The drilling stopped. Norman watched as one of the men placed the drill on the floor and pulled back the vault door. The other man hastily reached inside, pulling out a thick brown tome that must have weighed forty pounds. He threw it to the ground, obviously disgusted that it wasn’t the book they were looking for.

The drill buzzed once again.

Norman slipped to his knees, reached out into the space lit by the doorway, and without another thought, grabbed Dr. Winter’s absentee hand. During his stint as a marine, the grotesque artifact wouldn’t have fazed him, but now, older and two careers removed from the action in the field, Norman felt a wave of nausea gnaw at his stomach.

The drilling stopped. “What do you think you’re doing?” screamed one of the agents.

The voice replaced Norman’s nausea with blinding fear. He jumped to his feet and sprinted up the stairs as fast as his arthritic knees would carry him. He could hear the shoes of the two vault-breaking agents slide on the concrete floor behind him. He felt shards of concrete hit his face as the blasts from their pistols struck the wall. Blinding fear transformed into survival instinct.

He crossed over the midpoint and headed down the stairway on the other side. “Catch!” Norman shouted down to April, tossing Dr. Winter’s hand like a softball pitch.

April screamed and let the object bounce off her outstretched arms. “What are you doing?”

“Open the door!” Norman cried, slipping his way down the stairs. “They’re coming!”

April gingerly picked up the hand and placed it against the glowing panel. The doorway slid open just as Norman hit the bottom of the staircase, and the two of them fell inside.

A hail of bullets ricocheted off the floor just outside the door. “Close it!” Norman yelled.