The dizzying motion finally came to a stop with a soft thunk, and the two girls felt themselves just rocking back and forth for a few moments. Abby remained tense, despite the obvious patter of giant footsteps away from their position.
Nearby, Brooke shifted slightly and breathed a sigh of relief. "I think he just hung us on a coat rack," she offered in a low voice.
"Shut up!" hissed Abigail. "You want him to hear us? Keep your mouth shut and sit still!"
Brooke started to bite off an angry reply, but stopped herself and turned her head, sulking. Abby sighed in the near total darkness of the coat lining, somewhat uncertain about her feelings. She finally had the opportunity to be the boss once again, for the first time in ages. She didn't like having to work with the pathetic Brooke any more than she had to, but she should've enjoyed having power over someone for a change. Instead, she felt something else she couldn't quite identify. Perhaps it was just the excitement of the escape and the possibility of rescue, she tried to tell herself.
In any case, she thought, it was a good thing she was able to come up with a better idea for their escape than Brooke did. Abby was sure whatever Brooke dreamed up would be colossally stupid, and she was right. Get out by hanging onto the back of Logan's shoes? There was no way he wouldn't notice them down there! Even if a miracle happened and he didn't look down as he left the house, how the hell were they supposed to keep their grip on his humongous feet as he walked? If the fall to the concrete walkway didn't kill them, he'd probably step on them in the process.
Fortunately, as she lay awake in her makeshift bed the night before, Abigail was able to come up with the much more clever coat pocket idea. This was late February, and Logan was still putting on his long overcoat on the way to work. Slipping under the closet door and climbing into the inside pocket was child's play, really. At least Brooke didn't prove to be completely useless, either, because she brought along a sharp piece of metal and used it to cut through the bottom of the pocket, letting the two girls slip safely into the lining. That way, Brooke explained, even if Logan checked, he wouldn't notice them unless he was really anal about searching for them before leaving.
Abigail grudgingly agreed to the plan, and was willing to accept that working together with Brooke at least had some advantages. Unfortunately, the little slut didn't stop there. She just had to make a sappy comment about how the two of them should really stop fighting and try to be friends. Ha! What the hell made her think Abby had any interest in something so inane? Or that she would still fall for one of Brooke's "nice girl" ploys after so many months? As far as Abigail was concerned, the minute they got back to normal size, she was getting as far away from Brooke as possible.
Abby remained still and quiet in the pocket, listening to the sounds outside. She had no doubt the coat was now hanging on a rack somewhere in the entrance to Logan's fire station, assuming of course that he really did work in such a place and wasn't lying through his giant teeth. The noises outside, including clanking sounds, muffled music from a radio, and the occasional snatch of distant conversation, did nothing to hint one way or the other. They could've been in any office building or other similar place as far as she knew. Without being able to see outside, there was no way to confirm anything.
Finally, after a few minutes of waiting, Brooke started to crawl upwards towards the pocket. "Where are you going?" demanded Abigail, trying to steady the coat, afraid someone might see it rocking around as Brooke moved. She needn't have worried, though. The overcoat's stiff outer shell wasn't moving at all as Brooke made her way slowly up into the pocket and up to its edge.
Unwilling to let the other woman get a head start, Abby sighed in resignation and followed along. Soon both women were holding themselves up on the edge of the inside pocket, looking down at a tiled floor far below them. For the first time in almost a year, they both realized simultaneously, they were seeing someplace other than the prison of Logan's house.
The way down was easy to see. The coat rack was little more than a wooden stick on a stand, with several pegs jutting out towards the ceiling at 45-degree angles. From where they were hanging, all they had to do was grab hold of the smooth pole and let themselves slide slowly downwards. With the kind of experience they had navigating such obstacles, neither had any trouble managing this feat, and soon both Abby and Brooke were standing on the ground, looking up at the massive interior of the building.
At first it did look like the entrance to an office complex. Ahead, on the opposite side of the room, a gigantic desk loomed. Abby thought this must be a receptionist's post, though no one was seated there at the moment. Behind this, hanging on the wall, a gigantic fire department logo dominated the view. To the right, a set of glass doors opened to the outside, and to the left, they saw the inside of a tremendous garage. The colossal form of a fire engine extended off into the distance as far as their tiny eyes could see.
"God, it's so big," muttered Brooke absently. "Should we try to get someone's attention, or--?"
Abby rolled her eyes. "Shut up and come on!" she snapped. "There's a phone up there on that desk. If we can get to it, we're home free!"
Immediately Abigail started running across the slick floor, avoiding the cracks between the tiles automatically and unconsciously. Brooke followed on her heels, their bare feet slapping on the waxed surface just barely out of step with each other. Without even thinking about it, they found themselves racing to be first to reach the phone line. For a moment it seemed like Brooke might overtake her competitor, but at the last instant Abby put on a burst of speed that carried her to the finish first.
Laughing in between short breaths, Abigail launched herself onto the thick plastic cord and started to shimmy upwards. She ignored the fact that Brooke was catching her breath down below and concentrated on getting up to the desktop as quickly as possible. Abby wanted to be the one to get to the phone first, so she could be the one to dial the numbers that would result in their eventual rescue. The less she owed to Brooke the better, and besides, when she told this story later, she intended to be the one who wound up the victor.
After about a minute of steady climbing, Abby reached the desk and paused, wiping the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. Her whole body was slick with perspiration from the run across the floor, the ascent, and the excitement of how close she was to rescue. Glancing down, she saw that Brooke was on her way up, so Abby hurriedly climbed the massive telephone and started trying to pry the handle off. Unfortunately, this was not a sleek phone made of cheap plastic like the ones at Logan's house. This was a heavy-duty piece of office equipment, and she couldn't budge it. Damn, she thought, why couldn't he have a modern phone with push buttons and speaker capability? But of course this was a fire station, and they probably didn't have the budget for such things. Their telephones were simple, cheap, and built like gigantic bricks.
She was still struggling when Brooke reached the top and pulled herself onto the desk. She, too, wiped her forehead off and then took a step forward, stopping as she saw Abby straining at the telephone. A smile crossed Brooke's face, and then she started chuckling at the sight. After a moment she deliberately raised her voice so Abby could hear over her own grunting and straining.
This had the desired reaction. Abigail jerked to her feet angrily and stared down at the tiny woman on the desk. "Shut up!" she shouted in frustration. "Are you going to help me, or do you want to stay stuck like this?"
"All right, all right," said Brooke, stifling her laughter only for the sake of their common goal. Shaking her head, she clambered up onto the faceplate of the phone, using the buttons as steps as she moved up to join Abigail next to the handset. "Which way are we going to push this thing?" she asked helpfully.
"The same way I am, stupid," hissed Abby. "Now come on, put your shoulders into it."
They both strained with all their might, but succeeded only in shifting the handset slightly. They might as well have been trying to lift a huge slab of concrete. "Damn," muttered Brooke with some annoyance, her earlier humor at Abby's situation completely lost now. "We're so close!"
"Bah! You give up too easily!" snapped Abby after a moment. "Don't you know anything? We have to use a lever. Let's see if we can find a pencil down there on the desk, or--"
Just then, they both heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching from nearby. Almost instinctively, with the practice borne of months of captivity, they leapt off the phone and ducked behind it, hiding in the shadows and waiting to see who might come in. Neither of them spoke or moved, but both were thinking the same thing--should they emerge and see who it was? Perhaps this was somebody who could help them!
The footsteps entered the room and the giant walked around the desk, taking a seat in the enormous chair just out of view. Carefully, as much as they dared, the two tiny fugitives eased their way to a position where they could look around the edge of the phone without revealing their position. They heard the crinkling of a newspaper and peered around to find the man's face obscured, but after a moment he turned the pages and they got a look at him at last.
It was Logan.