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INSIDE the underground house, there is the sound of an entire world breaking, shattering, falling down around them, though the house remains as it was. It startles the children, so a few of them scream and are hushed by their peers.
Hazel looks at her father, but her father only has eyes for her mother. They are large eyes, concerned eyes, terrified eyes. “What does it mean, Father?” Hazel has never considered that anything might go wrong with their plan, that this one, which appeared so safe at first glance, might very well have held danger. Every decision in life, you see, holds a little danger. We all risk at all times. Hazel has not yet learned this, but she is learning now.
“The portal,” Arthur says. He stares at Maude, still. She stares at him, still. “The way out has been broken.”
The children gasp and pitch their questions, “But how?” “What will we do?” “Will we die?” but Maude and Arthur are in no state to answer any of them.
“We are buried alive,” Maude says, so softly the children almost do not hear over their own questions cracking the quiet. She falls into Arthur’s arms with a silent weeping so loud it is deafening.
The children dare not say a word.