“Okay,” I say. “What if it’s a bomb? What if we break this thing open and it explodes?”
Surprise flicks through Beans’s eyes, and he looks back down at the ball. I can tell the idea of a bomb hadn’t occurred to him. And now that he’s thinking about that possibility, I’m convincing myself even more we shouldn’t break open this thing.
“Maybe that’s why Edge handled it with gloves,” I tell him.
“Uh, Annie, I, uh, hadn’t thought of that.” Carefully, Beans lowers the ball to the ground and just as carefully takes his fingers off the sphere.
Side by side we stare down at the polished metal.
“So, what now?” I ask. “We can’t just leave it here.”
“Okay, give me a second.”
I watch as Beans thinks for a few seconds.
“Okay—logic. We’ve tramped through woods and caves and picked at it with a rock. It’s obviously sturdy. If it was going to explode, it already would’ve.”
“Unless it’s on a timer.” Because on TV, bombs have timers.
Beans gives that a second of thought, and just as he’s ready to say something, Scarlett’s voice cuts through the air. “We found it!” she yells.
CHAPTER 21
With the ball stowed safely back in Beans’s pack, we find Scarlett, Edge, and Hoppy standing in a small clearing covered in thick silver gunk that lies in these long streaklike fingers, almost like they’re pointing at something. Black ash chars the ground and the surrounding trees, making it obvious that whatever landed here burned the terrain. Thank God it rained. This thing could’ve started a forest fire.
The long fingers lead straight toward a rectangular piece of rusted metal that lies on the ground. Actually—I realize as I get closer—it’s a door with hinges and a latch, and there’s a jagged hole right in the center about the size of a basketball.
That’s weird. A door out in the middle of the woods? Why would there be a door out here?
Rocky comes sprinting through the trees from one direction and Fynn the other. Weren’t they supposed to stay together?
We all stand for a second in the clearing and just stare.
It’s Edge who speaks first. “Know what that is? That’s a door leading to a storm shelter. There used to be a cabin here a long time ago. I bet anything there’re supplies down there. Canned goods and whatnot.”
I turn and survey the cleared area, and sure enough, I can visualize a little cabin right here with all these woods surrounding it. Secluded. Like where some mountain man might have lived once upon a time.
Edge leans down and grabs the handle and creaks open the door all the way, letting it rest on the ground. Simultaneously we take a step closer and lean in. A few wooden steps lead down and gradually disappear into the darkness. There’s no telling what’s down there.
With that thought, I back up a little.
Rocky squats next to the door and runs his fingers around the basketball-size hole. “This looks new. Check it out—it’s not rusted or anything.”
Beans does his scientific thing, leaning in, studying the hole in the door. I swear if he had a calculator and a protractor, he’d probably whip those out, too. “Whatever fell shot right through.”
“What if it’s the alien?” Fynn whispers.
I swallow. Good point.
For a few seconds, no one speaks, and then Beans looks around the area. “Everyone find a weapon.”
We all scramble away, coming back seconds later with various things—a stick, a rock, a broken Coke bottle. I look at the broken bottle in Fynn’s hand. “Where’d you get that?”
He nods over his shoulder. “In the woods. It was the only one.”
Beans flips on his flashlight. “Ready?”
I crowd in behind him. “You’re going first? You’re so brave.”
As usual, Rocky steps up. “I’ll go first.”
Beans straightens his shoulders. “I got this.”
Holding both hands up, Rocky backs away. “Okay, it’s all you.”
Fynn hands Beans the broken bottle. “If you’re going first, then take this. It’s a better weapon than that stick you’re holding.”
Fynn and Beans swap weapons, and I glance at Scarlett to see her hovering close to Edge.
“Ready?” Beans repeats, and we all nod.
“Stay,” Edge tells Hoppy.
Down the steps the six of us slowly go. Beans, me, Rocky, Fynn, and Scarlett, with Edge bringing up the rear.
One by one we flip on the flashlights we have left as we descend the damp wooden steps into the darkness.
“The rain must have come in through the hole,” Beans says, and no one responds. Like me, I think they’re all more concerned with aliens right now than wet steps.
The temperature drops, and dust floats in Beans’s light beam as he scans the dirt walls lining the narrow passage. Reaching forward, I grip the back of his shirt, and I barely breathe or blink as my gaze bounces around the darkness. Behind me, Rocky moves in close, and I’m happy to be sandwiched between the two of them.
Down, down, down we go, until we’re standing in a room about the size of my bedroom. The floor’s a little wet, just like the stairs. Shelves line the walls with cans of food and jars of jams, everything covered in dust.
“I wonder how long this has been here,” Beans says.
None of us move as our lights play off the details of the small room, and I pay particular attention to the dark corners, where little bug-eyed aliens might be hiding.
But there’s no one here except us. Whatever made the hole in the door was probably just another one of those silver balls.
Gradually, we begin to move away from one another to explore the small room. I pick up one of the metal cans of food and flip it over to see a date stamp: JUNE 1932. Wow, this is old. I think about our Tennessee history unit in school this year and all the black-and-white pictures we saw of farmers and miners during the early nineteen hundreds. We also watched a black-and-white documentary about the Depression. This metal can and probably everything else in here is from that time period.
Learning about history is one thing, but actually seeing it in real life… it’s almost like seeing a ghost or something.
“Check this out,” Rocky says, shuffling something around, and I turn to see him pulling a chest out from the corner and into the beam of sunlight shining in from above.
He lifts the lid. Clothes lie in neatly folded piles, some men’s, some women’s, and others children’s. Rocky picks a few pieces up and holds them out. One of the shirts looks like an old military uniform.
Fynn grabs a bar of soap wrapped in brown paper and smiles. “If anybody finds water, tell me.”
Scarlett lifts out a child’s romper with little buttons and ruffles. “Awww.”
I hear a clank from behind me and glance over my shoulder to see Beans rifling through a canister of old junk: a watch on a chain, a tiny mirror, a small picture frame, a silver brush, a baby’s rattle, and some of those knitting needles like my mom uses.
Beans shines his light around the room again. “How cool is this?”
“There it is,” Edge whispers.
Everything is forgotten as we turn to see the silver object that he’s found wedged under a canvas bag. The orb must’ve fallen through the door and down the stairs, hit the ground, and rolled underneath the bag.
The object is the exact same color as the perfectly round balls we’ve already found, but this one isn’t perfect. It has square knobs sticking out of it with a couple inches of space in between each knob. It sort of looks like a giant jack.
Edge slips leather gloves onto each hand and gently slides the ball out from under the bag. With a small grunt, he picks up the sphere, and I hold my breath, waiting for… I’m not sure what. The thing to move? For it to open? For the other balls we have in our packs to “recognize” it? I don’t know.
Beans moves in to look. “Is it heavy?”
“I’d say it’s about twenty pounds,�
�� Edge says.
Twenty pounds? The other silver balls are light. What could be inside this one that’s twenty pounds?
Beans shakes his head. “That’s definitely not a meteor.”
“I don’t see how an alien can fit in that,” says Scarlett. “Or the other balls we found.”
Fynn lifts a finger to touch the object and Edge moves it out of his reach. “Let’s get it up top and then we can all look at it.”
Carefully he starts back up the steps, and we follow. I see Hoppy looking down at us, wagging his tail, and the late afternoon sun shining in behind him.
Edge stops right as he’s about to climb out and turns down to look at us. “Hey, do you guys mind getting some of that stuff? Grab a few of the food cans, and the canister you found, Beans, and maybe one of those outfits. Everything is so old. They’d be cool souvenirs.”
“Isn’t that stealing?” Fynn asks.
Edge laughs. “Stealing from who? Whoever built this is long gone.”
I nod. “And that food says 1932. It’s been a long time since anyone’s been here.” I turn back around and trail the others down. “Let’s get a few things.”
“I call dibs on that cute little romper,” Scarlett says.
“Dibs on the watch on the chain,” says Beans.
“I want a can of sardines,” Rocky says.
I crinkle my nose. “Why do you want sardines?”
“It’s a cool can. Did you see it?” He snatches it off the shelf and turns it around. “See, it’s got a pin like a key you spin to open it.”
Suddenly, I hear a creaking sound behind me.
The sunlight filtering down the steps gets narrower and narrower. I look straight up to see Edge closing the rusted door to the outside.
What the…?
I scramble up the steps right as he closes the door all the way and latches it. My heart stops for a startled second before kicking in again.
“What are you doing?” I holler.
But Edge doesn’t answer.
I bang on the door. “Edge! If this is a joke, it’s not funny.”
He doesn’t answer, and with each second, panic builds within me. He can’t just leave us in here! What is he doing? Through the hole in the center of the door, I see his shadow as he moves across the small clearing. He seems to be heading into the woods.
My panic morphs into full-on terror. “Edge!” I bellow.
Hoppy barks.
Rocky yells.
My terror mutates into rage. “Edge!”
Fynn wheezes.
Scarlett screams.
Beans dry heaves.
“EDGE!” I shriek so loudly my vocal cords hurt.
And then the batteries in our flashlight die, and we are cast into darkness.
CHAPTER 22
“He double-crossed us!” Rocky yells.
With a grunt, I push against the door, and tears swarm my eyes. “Please don’t leave us in here,” I say through the hole.
Silence.
“Please.” My voice breaks, and the sound of it cracking irritates me. I don’t want to cry. But what are we going to do? Edge can’t just leave us here.
I put my arm through the hole and frantically feel around, trying to find the latch on the outside, but all I can feel is rusted metal. My arm’s too short.
With a helpless sigh, I sink down onto one of the steps and rub my hands into my eyes. It’s going to be okay, I tell myself. We’ll figure this out.
Fynn’s still wheezing and I glance down into the dark. “Someone get Fynn his inhaler!” Sheesh, can they not hear him? I swear, if it weren’t for me, Fynn would never get his meds.
Some scrambling. A squirt. And Fynn stops gasping for air.
Scarlett fumbles up the steps toward me. The sunlight filtering through the hole hits her terrified face. She’s afraid of the dark. Not only are we locked in here but when the sun goes down it’s going to be completely black. She’s going to freak.
She’s breathing heavily, almost like she’s trying not to panic but can’t help it. It would really stink to be afraid of the dark. I reach down and squeeze her shoulder to try to give some assurance.
We had three flashlights. Edge had one, leaving us with the other two. “Beans, was that your light that died?”
“Yes.”
“I have the one I think you were carrying,” Rocky says as he flips it on and then it immediately dies. He slaps it against his palm. Slaps it again. “Uh, make that no.”
Nobody says anything for a few seconds and I try again, putting my face up to the hole in the door. “Edge, please. You can’t just leave us down here.”
Silence.
I can’t believe I thought Edge was cute.
“What are we going to do?” Scarlett whispers.
“Help!” I yell up through the hole. “Help! Anybody?”
Silence.
Just a frog or two answers back.
I glance down into the dark. But no one says anything.
“So, um, this one time I was stuck in a car.” Scarlett begins another one of her tales. “It was the coldest winter in Chicago…”
She said she embellishes for the attention, and I want to remind her she doesn’t need lies for us to like her because we’re okay with her now. But I have a feeling this tale is more about nerves than anything else.
“… and the lock was stuck. I banged on the window but no one heard me. Mom was in the grocery for over an hour, and when she came out, I had frostbite on my pinky toe.” She looks up at me. “Swear to God.”
I don’t know what to say to all of that so I decide to change the subject in hopes of alleviating everyone’s nerves. “Me and Beans found one of those silver balls,” I announce, even though Beans wanted to keep it between him and me. But that was back when he was keeping his other secret, too, and now that everything is out in the open, I have a feeling he’ll be okay with me sharing this.
“Really?” I hear Fynn say from the dark. “When?”
“Back when we were in the sugarcane field,” Beans answers, not sounding annoyed that I just told the others.
“We tried to break it open, but we couldn’t. We also thought it might be a bomb.”
“A bomb?” Scarlett gasps. “Is it in here with us right now?”
Beans heaves a sigh. “Yes, but I’m pretty sure it’s not a bomb.” He shuffles up the narrow steps and sits beside us, carrying the canister with all the old supplies. “Let’s just focus on getting out of here.”
“Good idea,” I say, and watch him rifle through the junk.
“At least we won’t starve,” Rocky says. “There’s food down here.”
“The food is fifty years old,” Fynn grumbles.
Tears prick my eyes again and I blink them away. All the things we’ve made it through on this adventure, and now we’re going to end up stuck in a cellar. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I ever suggested we go on this stupid trip.”
“It’s okay, Annie,” Fynn says. “We all wanted to. It wasn’t just you.”
Scarlett touches my arm, and I look down to see her holding out my pocketknife. “Will this help?” she quietly asks.
“My pocketknife!” I snatch it up. “Where did you find it?”
She doesn’t answer, and I get the distinct impression that she’s trying to decide if she should tell the truth or not. She glances away then and mumbles so softly that I barely hear her. “I found it when we were at the Masons’, grabbing stuff before we ran.”
I narrow my eyes. “You’ve had it this whole time?”
She cringes.
“Why? You knew how important this was to me.”
Scarlett ducks her head, like she’s too ashamed to even look at me. “I’m sorry.”
“But why?”
She shrugs.
“Scarlett, I don’t understand.”
“I-I was jealous of you. It was stupid.” She ducks her head even lower. “I’m really sorry. I promise not to do anything like that again. I meant to gi
ve it back earlier, but I forgot.”
I stare at the side of her cheek as she guiltily looks down at her fingers, and all I can think is, She’s been jealous of me? Well, I guess I’ve been jealous of her, too, with the Rocky thing, and Edge, too, a little. So really I can’t be mad. Plus, she did say that she meant to give back the pocketknife earlier. It’s not like she was going to go back to Chicago with it.
“Hey,” I whisper, and she drags her eyes up to look at me. “Truce, okay? Friends. Real friends.”
Slowly, her face splits into this big grin, and she crawls one step up to throw her arms around my neck. “Thank you.”
I’m probably taking it too far, but I’m feeling all kinds of gushy, so I say, “I’m glad we met. I’m glad to have a new friend.”
Still looking through the canister, Beans snorts. “Girls.”
Scarlett and I laugh, and holding my pocketknife, I get this surge of power, and it seems like a motivational speech is appropriate. “Listen, y’all. This isn’t over yet. We are going to get out of here, we’re going to get that thing back from Edge, and we’re going to save Beans’s house!”
“And then we’re going home,” Scarlett chimes in.
“Yes!” I say, smiling at her. “Then we’re going home.”
I hear one single clap from down below and stick my tongue out at whoever—Fynn or Rocky—did it, and then I hand Beans my pocketknife and scoot out of his way. “Use that if you can.”
He thinks about everything for a second, and I watch as he clicks my knife open. Using some twine from the canister, he ties my knife to a metal rod. “I think this is going to be the perfect length.” He hands me a small antique mirror. “You’re going to be my eyes. Just give me directions.”
“What are you, part of the A team?” I say, and Beans smiles.
We switch spots, and I hold the mirror out of the hole and point it at the latch. He sticks the tied contraption out, too, and starts fiddling with the latch.
Carefully, I watch. “Okay, good. Right… little left. Down…”
The tip of the blade catches on the latch, and it shakes a little as Beans concentrates. It lifts a tiny bit and I hold my breath, but Beans loses hold and the blade slips.
“Crap,” Beans grumbles.
Scouts Page 12