Door Crack Blocker Novels & Stories

The construction workers had finished their work two hours ago, leaving behind light blue walls and fresh hardwood floorboards. A solid oak crib was sitting near the wall, away from the glass. Beside it was a dresser and a soft gray rocking chair. Dominic knelt on the floor near the doorframe, opening his toolbox. He pulled out a roll of heavy rubber insulation tape and a set of chrome acoustic seals. "The street noise is too loud," Dominic observed, checking the gap beneath the oak door. "When the storm hits tonight, the wind will rattle the panes." I sat on the edge of the dresser, watching him work. His fingers were big and calloused, yet he handled the small screws and rubber seals with

"Yes, Michael. I brought my laptop with me. If she answers my email, I will let you know." I start to inspect the round thing sticking out. I say out loud; "It looks like something has pushed this round part into the door." Roman behind me asks; "Why?" "It looks like it is a way of sealing the door. It could maybe be a lock of some kind." I take out the pliers and clamp the round part. Using the rubber hammer, I hit the pliers to see if I could move the round piece out of the frame. I shift my weight off the flat part of the rock, and suddenly the round bar disappears. I put my feet back on the flat rock, and I hear the click sound again, and the three-round parts has reappeared again. With

) Marcello out of so much pent up anger, flipped a nearby chair with just his one hand, the sound resonating through out the house, is that bastard still able to move around freely to the point of taking my men?" He hissed on the speaker of the innocent metal, "Boss, it wasn't Damien. He couldn't have come back so soon with the impact he took. Abbiamo ottime ragioni per credere che un altro dei fratelli Dashkov sia riemerso nel tuo territorio. È Viktor!" (We have high reasons to believe that another one of the Dashkov brothers has resurfaced in your territory. It's Viktor)

Rami was standing there looking at me. "Morning Damien," he said. "Morning," I said without looking up. "That door has been giving you trouble for a while hasn't it Amara?" Rami asked. "Yeah. It's been sticking for about a month now," she said. "You know I could call my contractor friend and have him come install a brand new door system for you. Something modern with better locks and insulation. It would be safer too and it wouldn't cost much," Rami said. I stopped working for a second and looked at him, then at Amara who looked uncomfortable.

The thick titanium frame bent, the wheels snapping off one by one, firing across the corridor like bullets. "Vivienne! Get back!" Dominic’s voice screamed from the server room. I didn't step back. I grabbed a heavy iron torque wrench from the lower shelf of the collapsing cart and jammed it horizontally between the door frame and the sliding bolt. The metal groaned. The screeching stopped. The vault door halted, stuck with a tight, three-inch gap remaining. Cold air hissed through the opening, but the heavy locking bolts were jammed. We weren't completely sealed in, but we weren't getting out through that door either.

"They’re not collectors, Roderick. They’re thugs. They’ll tear the place apart just for the sport of it." Roderick ignored him. He was scanning the perimeter of the room, his eyes assessing every weak point, every stray pipe, every piece of debris that could be weaponized. He grabbed a heavy metal crowbar from the floor and wedged it against the bottom of the door frame, bracing it against a structural joist. It was a simple, ingenious makeshift barricade.