by Riley Flynn
It did sound good. It was what they’d actually planned to do all along. Get to Virginia. Live off the land. Make a home for themselves. A new start in a new world. But so much had changed, it felt strange to cling so rigidly to old ideas.
Everything was different now. Alex had too many questions. Sure, he’d found out about Sammy and allowed himself to let her go. But what about the rest? The whole virus and the CIA? The computer files with his name in them? Nothing added up and he wanted answers. He wasn’t going to get them staying around here.
But, at the same time, standing still for a while might be good. It was winter, after all. He needed to heal. So did his friends. He needed to mourn, to deal with all the death he’d seen. Maybe he could go along with Timmy’s plan, even if it was just for a while.
Together, they walked back toward the farmhouse. As Timmy led the horse to find some shelter, Alex stood in the courtyard. Everything had changed. Ever since he could remember, standing in this spot meant being surrounded. The house on one side, the barn on another, and the stables and all the other sheds. Now, only the house remained.
Alex walked over to the ruins of the barn. The warmth still radiated from the rubble and he could feel it on his outstretched palm. Slowly, he began to wander around the wreckage, kicking at burning beams with his toes and seeing what he could find.
This was where Krol had buried the dead. It was important to remember that. Now, after the man’s sacrifice, it was tempting to think of him only in a positive light. Remember the good and the bad, Alex thought. Nothing is so simple as a binary choice.
Ambling through what remained of the barn, Alex felt his toe catch against something. All of the burned wood usually crumbled under a touch. But this – whatever it was – held firm.
Alex stopped and looked around. This must have been the back of the barn. Sweeping aside with his foot, he began to clear the debris away.
Then he remembered. Before, when he’d been searching around in the dark, he’d hit his toe against a metal door that had been in the ground. This was the same door.
The sneaker swept faster and faster, moving aside all the junk and the ash. It didn’t take long and Alex ignored the pain in his shoulder.
Soon, he could see it all in the cold light of day. A pair of metal doors laid into the ground, five feet wide between them and with a metal loop where a padlock would normally be placed. But they were unlocked.
There had never been anything like this years ago, he thought. He would have remembered. Probably. Alex had never really spent much time in the barn. It had been where his dad used to hang out. It was a place for work, not for play.
In the distance, Timmy was strolling back toward the house. Alex called him over. He came running.
“What do you think it is?” Timmy asked as they both looked at the hatch.
“Don’t know. But I’m going to find out.”
“Oh, yeah? Open it up, then.”
“Can’t. The metal’s still too hot.”
Timmy looked around, an annoyed look on his face.
“Yeah? Well, I’m not waiting.”
He walked away to the edge of the field and filled his hands with snow. Running back to the hatch, he dumped it all on top of the hot metal. It melted quickly. So he did it again. And again.
“There we go,” said Timmy, touching the handled. “Cold enough to touch now.”
“Should we open it?” Alex was having second thoughts. Krol had buried bodies in the barn. Who knew what might be in the hatch?
“If you don’t open those doors, I will. It’s your farm. Come on!”
“Fine.”
Alex bent down and lifted up the doors with his one good hand. It still hurt.
As the metal doors opened , a cloud of smoke billowed out.
“Must have got trapped down there last night,” said Timmy. “Don’t reckon you’ll find anything alive down there.”
“That’s what I’m worried about.”
A set of steps appeared at the entrance to the hatch. They disappeared down into the darkness.
“You got a flashlight?” Alex asked, gazing into the abyss.
“As it happens…” Timmy reached into his pocket. “I do. Battery is about to die, though. Wasted it all looking for you.”
Alex took the flashlight and clicked the switch, feeling that hint of guilt creeping in that he’d drained away another resource while unconscious. Nothing happened. He shook it, sending a shock of pain through his arm. This collarbone injury was annoying, he thought to himself. The bulb inside began to glow.
A faint, feeble light. Alex pointed it at the darkness. He began to descend the stairs.
Krol must have been up to something. Mysterious trips to the barn. Always with the secrets. Alex felt a pang of hate for the man and corrected himself.
The flashlight barely pierced the gloom. Alex could see a few feet in front of him and nothing more. Enough to see that the steps ended soon. He reached the floor and felt the space open up ahead of him.
“Hey, there’s a room down here. I think it’s big, he shouted up to Timmy.
“Oh yeah?” came the response. “What’s down there?”
Alex walked up to the nearest wall, determined to find out. The whole place smelled like smoke. It was warm down here.
The beam from the flashlight found a wall and Alex traced it upwards. Starting just below waist height, the whole surface was covered in sheets of paper. Untidy handwritten notes. Scattered around were photographs and printed records.
“What the hell?”
The light flickered in the torch. Alex hit it against his leg and walked forward.
“Hey, there’s something here!”
Approaching the wall, Alex tried reading the handwriting. It was impossible. He flicked the torch around, up and around. The entire wall was covered in this stuff. It seemed that it never ended. He walked forward.
“What the…” Alex whispered to himself.
A photograph was pinned between the paper. Alex recognized the face. It was his own.
The flashlight died. The world turned dark. Alex was left all alone.
Thank you from the Author
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