CHAPTER 18

Down the Rabbit Hole

“Hang on tight, Simon. Take the steps slowly.”

Kate held the flashlight above the opening, pointed down into the basement area. Now the rank smell from below filled the storeroom.

What would they find down there?

Simon faded into the shadows, the flashlight only making just the top of his head visible.

Christie watched him turn around.

“I can’t see a thing!”

Then Kate turned to her. “Okay, Mom—going down,”

Christie nodded. She turned and looked at the window at the back. Already the patch of gloomy light that it admitted was dimming, the afternoon growing late, the late winter night ready to reclaim this hamlet.

And she thought: We can’t stay here too long. Not when it turns dark.

She watched Kate jam the flashlight in her jeans pocket, good and deep. Then her daughter stretched down with one leg, feeling for that first step.

A nod indicating that she found it.

Christie watched Kate as she started down and, without the light pointing the way, it was as if she was stepping into utter darkness, the blackest of black holes.

Christie wanted to say to her: Come back up. Forget this whole thing. There can’t be anything down there.

Or whatever is down there… has to be rotten, useless.

But in those seconds, her daughter’s head disappeared into the darkness.

“Okay, Mom I'm down and—”

She turned on the flashlight, and in the glow Christie could now see Simon and Kate's faces.

“Good,” she said. “Just a quick look, guys. Then we better go.”

Christie looked over her shoulder.

She had been so absorbed looking down, peering into the hole that was swallowing her kids, that she became unaware of the store, the world outside.

For a few minutes, the universe had become just this opening to the basement the ladder down.

A glance behind her.

It was quiet out there.

She thought: Everyone must have really left this village...

A total ghost town.

And when she turned back to the opening, the light and her kids had moved away…

*

Until she heard their voices, suddenly… excited.

“Mom!”

Kate.

Then Simon— even louder. “Mom—we found something!”

So frustrating to hear their voices and not be able to see.

“What is it?”

She still couldn't see them, but she heard a ripping noise.

Cardboard being torn.

“Some boxes,” Kate said. “Just a few and—”

Then Simon: “Wow!”

What is it?

And Christie only hoped that maybe—just maybe—they had found something good, something that could help…

Dare she think it?

“Cans of food!” Simon yelled.

“There's peas, Mom!” Kate added.

“And—what’s this?—soup! Tomato soup.”

“And chicken soup!”

How is that even possible? Christie wondered.

Those things had become so incredibly rare, with various food substitutes replacing so many things that had suddenly become like gold.

Unless… someone—the guy who ran the store—hid them away here, a little cache for when things turned bad.

Except—what happened to him?

Did people break in, storm the place, do something to the guy who owned this tiny market?

His secret dying with him.

And now—by some miracle—she… her kids… got it.

Christie tried to think…what to do, how to do it… though the excitement of the discovery felt overwhelming.

“Okay, Kate—how many boxes?”

She waited.

A bit of disappointment in her daughter's voice.

“Only four, Mom. A couple dozen cans in each, I guess.”

Okay, she thought. Not a lot. But enough for their journey. Certainly more real food than they had eaten in a long time.

Then the next question: “Can you lift the boxes?”

Because what good would it do if they can’t get them up and out? Have to tediously pass single cans up?

If I could get down there, maybe I could lift a box.

But were her kids strong enough?

She waited.

Then: “Mom—Simon and I can lift one up… I think we can get them up the ladder, one at a time.”

“Great, Kate. Just have to get it close to me, then I can help pull it up.”

Then, thinking ahead… Out to the car, in the trunk, maybe with minutes left before night falls.

“Just hurry,” she said, then realizing that she shouldn’t really rush them. “As much as you can, okay?”

“Okay, Mom. We’re starting.”

And Christie thought, as she heard the kids struggle with the box, my wonderful strong kids.

So good, so powerful.

And this: how the love she had for them was so overpowering.

She heard them start moving up the ladder.

*

They nearly let the first box slip from their fingers, such an awkward move going up together, the heavy box held tight.

Easy, Christie thought.

But keeping any words to herself.

Then, she saw Simon in the lead, coming up slowly, walking backward on the old wooden ladder, hands locked on one end of a box while below, Kate did the harder work of constantly pushing it up.

And soon as she could, Christie put her gun to the side, away from the hole and grabbed at the corners of the box, easing the weight off her daughter, then sliding the box to the floor of the storeroom.

Without a nod, Simon turned around and went back to his sister and the next box.

Christie feeling useless in the job the kids were doing.

Then another box appeared, Simon's arms outstretched. And when she looked at his grim face she could see what a massive effort this was for him.

She hurried to pull that box up.

Then—in minutes, time seeming to crawl a bit longer for each recovery, the third box.

Until that too had been slid out onto the stone storeroom floor—and only one left to go.

Christie's heart racing, lost to this moment that could mean life and death for them on the road.

Lost to only that thought…

When she became aware of something else.

Her mind pulled back, a strange feeling at the back of her neck. Hairs on end.

She heard a grunt.

A low, rumbling… grunt.

Somebody had entered the store, making a noise.

Another grunt, now closer.

Until, she had an awareness that felt ancient, making her kids, the boxes, the hole—all vanish.

No, not someone.

Some thing….