Corridor sweep

First light cut past the cleared carpet channel, hitting the base of the oak table leg. The cardboard baffle and steel washer stayed flush in the seam overnight. No shifts underfoot. I broke bivouac, slung the long gun tight against my harness, and crawled forward into the parted wool trench. Ahead, near the perimeter of the open hallway runner, a small metallic glint caught the morning glare. A forgotten metal paper clamp, arms folded back flat. Sturdy steel spring. I gripped the wire lever with both hands, tested the bite against the rough edge of the wood floorboard, and clamped it down onto the carpet boundary. A solid, unyielding range marker for the wide breach ahead.