Grip: A Six Sentence Story

The pounding on the door became more and more insistent as Abigail, face flushed, the fringe on her forehead damp with sweat, pulled the covers up to her chin and closed her eyes. Her body was trembling violently as a boot was thrust through the door, splintering the wood, heavy footsteps clattering across the floor; the men stormed towards Abigail, bayonets raised, as one of them shouted, "Where is he?!" 

Abigail painfully turned her head towards the men, eyes glassy, and with great effort, she attempted to raise her head but quickly dropped it back onto the pillow, coughing.

"Forgive me, officer," she said weakly, her voice straining, her forehead furrowed with pain, "but my family has been stricken with the grippe, and I'm the only one left now." The soldiers, eyes wide, began backing towards the door, hands over their noses and mouths, as the group's leader mumbled, "Sorry to bother you, ma'am," to Abigail, followed by a shout to his men to run for it.

Abigail, willing her racing heart to slow down, slowly counted to one hundred, and when she was sure there was no chance the soldiers would risk coming back to the house, she threw off the covers and leapt out of the bed, unlatched the camel back trunk, and furiously pulled the man inside to his feet by his hair before collapsing in tears in his arms.

Linking up with Denise at Girlie On The Edge's Blog for Six Sentence Stories with the prompt "grip"