"It's a shelter," Evan said. "Like a root cellar. There's stairs right near goin' down, so step careful. Don't go too far to the right."
"Somebody built it?" I asked, peering around in the semi-darkness.
"Yeah. Probably a long time ago. To store their vegetables and keep stuff cold."
"Oh," I said, and felt an eiree feeling slide down my back. I shuddered. A shudder which Ford felt, from standing so near to
me, and which he mistook for me being cold.
I was sort of cold, but the shudder was for the darkness of this cellar, or whatever it was, and the fact that there might be snakes
lurking about.
"You're cold," Ford said, in statement rather than in question.
"Not too bad," I said, and then admitted the rest. "I was just thinking of snakes."
"Don't worry about it," Evan said carelessly. A statement in which I found no reassurance at all.
"There might be some candles still here," Evan said. "I'll be right back." He took the flashlight from Ford, and went down
the stairs that he'd just warned us about.
Ford and I stood there, in the darkness, watching out the doorway as the rain fell from the darkened sky.
"Hannah's gonna be worried," I said.
"Yeah."
"What time do you think it is?" I asked.
"Two maybe. Or three."
"How did Evan know about this place?" I asked.
"Must have been one of his and Daniel's hideouts."
It seemed as though Evan had been gone longer than a few minutes.
"Evan!" I called, in the direction of the steps, feeling nervous.
"Hang on!" he called back.
Finally, there was the light of the flashlight shining its way back up to us.
"I found a couple candles down there and lit them," Evan said, pausing midway on the steps. "Come down here."
Ford made a move forward, but I was in his way, so he gave me a small push. "Go, Har," he said.
"You go on," I said, and Ford, who obviously thought that I meant to follow right behind, stepped around me
and headed down. They were both at the foot of the few steps, and turned the flashlight back so that I could see
where to put my feet.
I stayed right where I was, my arms crossed in an effort to warm up.
"Come on," Evan said, a little impatiently.
"I'll stay here," I said.
"What?" he demanded, shining the flashlight over my face.
"I'll stay here," I repeated.
"No, you won't. Come on."
"I don't want to," I said. I couldn't explain it, but I felt unnerved at the thought of descending into that cellar.
"Why not?" Evan asked, sounding irritated.
"I just don't," I said. "It gives me the creeps. I'm fine right here."
"Harlie. It's perfectly safe. Come on."
Just then a gust of wind brought more rain into the open doorway, and onto me. Enough that Evan felt it too, because he said,
"See? You're gonna get even more wet up there. Now, come on."
"I'd rather be wet than come down there," I insisted.
"Har," Ford coaxed. "It's alright."
"Go on. Think I'm just a stupid female who's afraid of her own shadow," I said, defensively. "I don't care."
Evan came up a few stairs. "Harlie. I'm not kidding. Now, take my hand," he ordered.
I sighed. I wasn't going to win this argument. I reached out to take his hand, and edged down those steps. When I was there,
standing at the bottom, I was greeted by a room that was bigger than I expected.
There were a couple of benches, jars filled with stuff up on shelves, and a rickety looking table, where a couple of candles
were burning. They were giving out a surprising amount of light. I gave a quick look around, to convince myself there were no
snakes curled up somewhere.
"See?" Evan said, dropping my hand. "Home Sweet Home."
"If you say so," I replied darkly.
He went to the shelves, moving stuff around, as if he was hunting for something.
Ford sat down on one of the benches. He reached over to grab at my hand. "Sit down," he said, pulling on me.
"Ow," I said, wincing as his fingers brushed the blisters.
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing," I said, pulling my hand loose.
"You've been favoring your hand all afternoon. What's the matter with it?" Ford demanded.
"I got a splinter or something," I said vaguely.
"Let me see," he said.
"Ford-" I protested.
"Come on. Quit bein' so stubborn. Let me see."
I sighed, and sat down beside him, as he held my hand up into the light of the candle to see it better.
"A splinter, huh?" he said wryly, and took a look at my other hand, too. "More than a splinter, Har."
I shrugged.
"What's wrong?" Evan said, pausing to look our way.
"She's got blisters," Ford said.
"Tattletale," I accused him.
Evan came over and took my hands in his, taking his own look.
"This happen today?" he demanded.
I just looked upwards at him, the light of the candle flickering over the walls.
He went to grab the first aid bag off of the old table.
"Rinse them off first," Ford said. "Hold your hands out," he told me, and I sighed, obediently holding my hands out, palms up, as he
poured water over them.
Evan was digging thru the first aid bag. "Are they popped?" he asked.
"Naw," Ford said. "Not yet."
"Just put some of this on them, then?" Evan asked, holding up a tube of antibiotic ointment.
"Yeah. And then a bandage, to clean 'em clean," Ford said.
As they worked over my hands, I winced as Ford dabbed on the ointment.
"Sorry," he said. "I'm tryin' to be gentle."
"It's fine," I said.
"Did I not tell you to wear gloves?" Evan demanded, sounding as though he was an eight on a scale of ten. "This is why."
"Yes, Ev, you told me," I said with a sigh, and a roll of my eyes.
"Did you just roll your eyes at me?" he asked.
"Good grief," I muttered. "How can you see that in here? There's enough light for that?"
"Yeah. There's enough light for that," he repeated.
"I should have worn gloves. You don't have to say 'I told you so'," I said.
"Fine," he muttered, handing the bag off to Ford. "But I did tell you."
He went back over to the shelves, and back to moving things around, searching.
Ford met my eyes, and gave me a half-grin. "You two," he said, with a shake of his head.
He took out some gauze, and wrapped it around my right hand, crossing between my thumb and index finger, and across my palm, and
then put a piece of first aid tape on it.
"I think a bandaid is enough for this one," he said, and placed a couple of bandaids on my left hand. After that, he got up to hold a pair
of tweezers from the bag over the flame of the candle.
Coming back, he rubbed his hands together, as if plotting something.
"Now for the splinters," he said.
"Let's just wait on those," I said, pulling my hands nearer to my lap.
"Nope. Let's go. Palm up," he ordered.
I sighed, and did what he said. I remained staunch, determined not to pull back from his tugging and poking with those tweezers.
At one point, I accused, "You're enjoying this way too much," and Ford laughed.
"There you go," he said, putting supplies back into the first aid bag. "Surgery is complete."
"Thank you, Doctor," I said, humorously.
"I'll send you a bill."
I stood up, stretching a little, and looking up the stairs, where I could hear the rain still coming down.
Suddenly, I was grateful for our little candle-lit cellar room. It really was much better than being out in that storm.
Evan was still moving jars on the shelves, and I asked him what he was looking for.
"Lookin' at these jars, seeing if there's any peaches or something," he told me.
"You mean to eat?" I asked, horrified at the thought.
"Of course to eat," he said.
"I'm not eating anything from off of those shelves," I said, in determination. This was not like coming down the stairs earlier. This was
not an argument that I was going to lose.
Evan didn't answer that, he just kept scooting jars around, every once in a while stopping to peer at one in the candlelight.
"That stuff's probably a hundred years old," I went on.
"Oh, it is not," Evan denied.
"Well, I'm not gonna," I went on. "So don't even ask me to."
"If it's done properly, canned food can stay good for years," Ford said, from his position on the bench.
"Well, we don't know if any of this stuff was done properly, though, do we?" I pointed out, reasonably I thought.
After a few more minutes, Evan gave up his search on the shelves. Whether from being convinced by my objections, or another reason,
I wasn't sure. So I asked.
"Don't see any fruit," Evan said. "Some canned meat, I think."
"Yuck," I said. That was even more of a disturbing thought than the fruit Evan had talked about.
After that, I sat back down beside Ford, while Evan stood at the foot of the stairs, looking upward. At one point, Evan heaved a heavy sigh.
"Damn it," he said.
Ford and I exchanged a look. We both knew where Evan's frustration was coming from.
"It's alright, Ev," Ford said quietly. "Don't beat yourself up about it."
Evan didn't answer, only shaking his head in response.
"Did we cover the chain saws good?" he asked, looking at Ford with a sudden thought of concern. "With the tarp?"
"Covered totally," Ford said.
"Okay. Good," Evan said, sounding relieved.
He came to sit on the other side of me. "How's your headache?" he asked me.
"It's gone."
"Where's those peanut butter crackers?" he asked.
I pulled the package from my shirt pocket, and held them out to him. "Here."
"Eat them," he said.
"You haven't had anything since breakfast," I protested.
"It's alright. You eat them. You need some protein."
"I'm really alright, Ev," I began.
"Harlie," he said, and his voice was firm. "Eat them."
So I did, choking down the three remaining crackers, and following them up with a swig of the water.
After that we were all three quiet for a while. Finally, I spoke up. "How did you know about this place?"
"Daniel and I found it one summer," Evan said. "We even camped up here a couple of times."
"Who built it? And left all that stuff on the shelves?" I asked then.
"Somebody who owned this land a long time ago, most likely," Evan said.
"You guys got to have all the adventures," I said, in mild complaint. "Camping up here, and watching the wild Mustangs, and all of that
stuff."
"I never got to see the Mustangs, either," Ford reminded me.
"You should," I told him. "It's amazing."
"Oh yeah," Evan spoke up dryly, "We got to have all the great adventures. The main one was when we had to take three babies everywhere we went. Now that
was really a fun time," he finished, with sarcasm.
"Hey," Ford objected, "Don't be clumping me in on that baby stuff. And if I remember it right, most of the time I was the one carrying one or the other
of them."
"Humph," Evan said.
"I'm sitting right here, you know," I reminded them wryly. "Don't talk about me like I'm not even here."
Ford chuckled a little, and then stood up, stretching. He went to peer up the stairs.
"I think it's lettin' up a little," he said, and Evan got up to go stand beside him, looking out as well.
"Hmm," he said, and went on up the stairs. "Comere, Ford," he said then.
Ford went up the stairs as well, and left there alone, I stretched my legs out. I was so so hungry. I thought longingly, wistfully, of
all the meals that I'd pushed away before finishing. Some of Hannah's fried chicken and mashed potatoes would taste awfully good right
about now. In between the images of food in my head, I could hear Ford and Evan talking up above me, but really quietly. I couldn't make out
the words.
I stood up, and went to the bottom of the steps, trying to listen. They only lowered their voices even more.
"What are you guys talking about?" I demanded.
When they ignored my question, I went halfway up. "What are you talking about?" I asked again.
"We're talkin' about what a pain in the butt you are most of the time," Evan said.
"Hardee har har," I said, and went up the remaining steps.
It had lightened up a lot outside. The storm had passed, it seemed. There was still a bit of rain falling, but the worst was over.
"Are we going now?" I asked, squeezing in between them to look out. "It looks okay, doesn't it?"
"Yeah," Evan said, and I thought that he sounded sort of funny.
"What?" I asked, turning to look at him.
"Listen, Har," Ford said, "Evan and I are thinking that one of us should stay here with you, while the other one walks back, and then comes back with
one of the trucks."
"What?" I asked, looking from Ford to Evan and then back again. "Why?"
"Because," Evan said. "It's been a long day for you. You need to eat somethin' soon. And one of us can make it back a lot faster alone. That's why."
"I'll be alright till we get home to eat," I protested. "And I can walk just as fast as either of you."
"No, you can't, Harlie," Evan said, with maddening calmness. "I know you want to act like you're a tough nut, and all-"
"I am tough!" I said, raising my voice a notch. "I'm not some frail little city flower!"
"I didn't say you were," Evan said, still calmly.
"Having diabetes has made me tough!" I went on. "You can't have something stupid like diabetes and be weak-"
"Aw, Har," Ford said, and put his arm around my shoulders. "Don't get all worked up."
"Yeah. I know you're a bad ass," Evan said.
"If you start laughing at me, Evan Wayne, I swear-" I threatened.
"I would never," Evan said, holding up his hands in surrender. "Or I might, but I'm not right now, I promise. Okay?"
I could hear the grin in his voice, and I straightened up to my full height. "I can walk with you guys," I said, trying to sound convincing.
When they both regarded me with dubious expressions, I said, "I can! Please. Give me a chance."
"What if we give you a chance, and it starts pouring rain again?" Evan pointed out. "And besides, you've gotta be getting really hungry. That's gonna
make you weak."
"You've both got to be starving, too," I pointed out. Reasonably, I felt.
"The difference is, Evan and I don't have diabetes," Ford said quietly.
"We're worried about you," Evan said. "We're tryin' to do what's best."
"Please, Ev," I said, practically begging. "I can do it."
Evan looked at Ford in question. Ford shrugged his shoulders lightly. "Like you said, she's a bad-ass," Ford said, with a half-smile.
Evan regarded me intently for a long few moments. I stayed quiet, just watching his face.
"Alright," he said finally. "Come on then, little bad-ass."
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