ALLUSIVE AFTERSHOCK

by Susan Griscom

  I felt all over the sleeping bag until I finally put my hand on the crushed matchbox right in the middle of where Court had been sitting. “Got ‘em.”

  Luckily, the rough spot on the box where you strike was still intact enough to ignite the match and I lit the candle. I held the flame up and looked around the cellar. A mountain of dirt spilled down the stairs and over the floor in front of me, completely blocking the exit; we had no way out and I gasped, “No!” In a panic, I ran to the pile of dirt and soot, set the candle down and began digging with my hands.

  “Adela? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Court asked.

  “We’re trapped,” I yelled and kept digging, pulling dirt through my legs. “We can’t get out.”

  “Adela, stop!” Surprised at the closeness of his voice, I looked up to find him standing above me, holding the candle over the area. I ignored him and resumed shoveling dirt away from the entrance with my hands. I must have looked like a frantic puppy trying to dig its way out of an impossibly large fenced yard. We had to get out. Didn’t he understand? Dirt packed under my fingernails as I gouged in the dirt and shoved it out of the way, scraping my knuckles on rocks and twigs.

  “Adela, stop!” His hands pulled at my shoulders, but I knocked them away.

  “No, we have to dig. We’ll die down here! There’s no other way out. We don’t have enough water or food to last more than another day. We have to dig!”

  “Adela, you’re going to cut your hands again and make them raw. That’s not the way. We’ll find something to dig with. You have to stop.” Court placed his hands back on my shoulders. “Please, Adela. Stop. Everything will be okay.”

  I stood, shaking my head as my legs trembled and turned to rubber, giving out from under me as I sank down to the floor in front of him.

  He got down on his knees and, placing his hands on my arms, held me still so I faced him. “It will be all right.”

  I stared into his eyes. They rendered a calm but confident tenderness that I didn’t fully understand and I sucked in the sob about to explode from my mouth. “But we’re trapped.”

  ~~ Courtland ~~

  Adela sat on the dirt-covered cement floor in front of me, staring at the pile of muck blocking our exit. Hell, it might as well have been Mount Everest. With nothing but our hands to dig with, she was right, we were trapped. “We’ll get out,” I managed, wanting to calm her.

  She shook her head. “The stairway is completely buried. We are buried! We can’t get out.”

  I wanted to pull her against me and comfort her, but something told me to back off. She might not want that, so I sat beside her and struggled to keep my hands still.

  I thought it might be best if we moved away from the dirt. I glanced around in the direction of the sleeping bags. All but one was completely covered under the dirt along with the medical kit. As I stood, my vision blurred and my head swam with dizziness from the sudden movement. “I need to lie down.”

  “Okay, here.” She grabbed the remaining sleeping bag and shimmied her shoulder under my arm. Dragging the bag along with us, we hobbled back to the wine barrels and sank down on the cold cement floor.

  I cursed to myself. We were buried and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do at the moment to help. Dirt and debris covered the entire stairway, which was about six feet high. Adela spread the sleeping bag out and I pulled myself on top of it. Leaning back against the wall, I said, “This gives new meaning to the term ‘six feet under.’”

  “You’re joking? How can you joke? Our only way out is completely blocked.”

  “Just trying to lighten the situation.”

  “Oh. Sorry, but what are we going to do now?”

  “I don’t know. We’ll find a way.” I wanted to close my eyes, but Adela was panicking and I had no clue how we were going to get out.

  “Court, do you remember seeing any shovels down here?” She stood up and paced in front of me. I reached out, grabbed her arm, and gently tugged her down to the floor next to me.

  “Adela, look at me.” She stared at the unattainable stairway. “Adela! Look at me.”

  She turned toward me and our eyes met. “Adela, we are okay. You’re not hurt. I’m not hurt, at least not any more than before. We will get out. Please, calm down. I can’t think when you’re pacing.”

  She lowered her head. “I’m scared.”

  “I know. Come here.” I took a chance and placed my arm around her and she leaned into me as I held her against my chest.

  We sat close together for a while. Neither of us spoke. I stroked her hair and listened to her breathe. Maybe she fell asleep, I wasn’t sure, but having her body pressed against mine was almost enough to make me forget about the burns and sprained ankle I had. We were just two people who had lost everything—our families, our homes, and now quite possibly our own futures. I wondered how long we would survive. The food would run out first, then the water. I decided right then not to let her put any more fresh wet bandages on my burns. They still stung a bit, but they were healing. We would need all the water for drinking.

  Adela stirred under my arm still draped around her.

  “You should have gone with Max,” I whispered.

  She straightened and gazed at me with those soft brown eyes, the golden specks in them dancing with the flame of the candle light. She shook her head. “No. I wanted to stay here with you.”

  My heart did a triple Salchow, making my pulse race, and I’m sure Adela had to notice the rise in my heartbeat as she placed her head back against my chest.

  ~~ Adela ~~

  I couldn’t believe what I just said to Courtland, but it was the truth. I did want to stay with him. He was intriguing and I struggled to figure out exactly what propelled my wonderment, but something about Courtland Reese kept drawing me in like a magic spell. There was a side of him I wanted to know better, a side of him I needed to know. If I was going to die, I wanted to die here with him. All this time, I’d thought I was in love with Max, but after being in the cellar with both of them I realized, yeah, I did love Max, but not the way a woman was supposed to love a man. Not the way my mom loved my dad. She would get a sparkle in her eyes when my dad walked into the breakfast nook, smelling of hay and horses, not a smell most women would get all hot and bothered by, but she liked it. There was the smile she’d give him when he’d make a fool of himself playing with Ambie and Aaron, the gentle kiss they’d share that always made my mom’s cheeks flush. Maybe that’s what Max and my mom knew I was missing. Maybe that’s why Max always went out with those other girls. Maybe that’s why Max never kissed me. He knew. How could he know when I didn’t?

  I dried my eyes with the sleeve of my sweater and pulled back from Court. “I’m okay now.”

  I stared at the pile of dirt blocking our way out but didn’t get all hysterical this time. I shook my head, took a deep breath, and gathered my inner calm. “What are we going to do?”

  Court had his head leaning against the wall and his eyes closed. “We’ll figure something out. But right now, I could use some more ibuprofen. I’ll be able to think better if I’m not in so much pain. And I think nature is calling.”

  I smiled. “Hey, I have just the thing for you. That is if something didn’t fall on it during that last round of shaking. Come with me.” I stood up in front of him with my hand stretched out for his. His brows furrowed and he looked a bit puzzled but took my hand and stood. I positioned my shoulder under his arm and we hobbled behind the wine barrels.

  I pointed to the bucket I’d hidden back there. “I found this when I was looking for the candles earlier.”

  “Wow, an honest-to-goodness little toilet.”

  “Well, a bucket and an old toilet seat. I found the seat part leaning against the wall when I came back here for privacy. It’s better than nothing, especially now that we can’t get outside. I’ll wait on the other side. Call me when you’re finished and I’ll come back and help you back over to the sleeping bag.”

  I walked over to th
e shelves. Everything was on the floor. I began picking things up and came across the small bottle of pills. I must have forgotten to put them back in the kit. Good thing, since the kit was buried under all the dirt. I reached for the water and realized it was on its side with water spilled out around it. I tried not to panic when I saw that only about half the gallon remained. I walked back to the wine barrels and waited for Court, when I remembered his jeans and wondered if they were buried under the dirt by the stairs too. I walked over to that general area, spotted one pants leg sticking out and pulled.

  I shook out Court’s jeans as he came hobbling over to me, using a broom as a crutch.

  “Hey, you found my pants. Good. I’d forgotten all about them.”

  I smiled. “You found a broom. Good. We can use it to help dig.”

  “Yeah, let’s sit for a bit first. I need to get some pills in me.” Together we hobbled back to the sleeping bag. I handed him the pills and showed him the now half-empty container of water.

  “The earthquake?”

  “Yeah. I found it on its side. I don’t know what happened to the cap.” Neither one of us said anything more about it so I poured an inch of water into the cup. We had a half a gallon of water and two cans of soup. Our chances of survival seemed awfully bleak.

  I grabbed the candle and gathered up as many of the supplies that I could and stacked them against the wall. The two cans of soup, now all dented, would still be okay. There were two more candles and the can of Sterno. I placed them alongside the soup when my eyes fell upon the book I had tripped over yesterday.

  I turned to walk back to Court and paused; glancing back at the book, I picked it up. It looked fairly new and had a thick green cover with a picture of some sort of ruins and some cows grazing. “Irish Fairy and Folk Tales,” by W.B. Yeats. I shrugged, flipped it over and read the back cover.

  “‘Everyone is a visionary if you scratch him deep enough. But the Celt is a visionary without scratching.’ Hmmm … this sounds interesting.” I walked back over to the sleeping bag and sat on the edge.

  Court opened his eyes and smiled at me. “Find something to keep us amused?”

  “Maybe. How about if we read this together?”

  “What is it?”

  I held the book in my lap, sitting cross-legged on Court’s good side, not wanting to take the chance of brushing up against his burns. “W.B. Yeats, ‘Irish Fairy and Folk Tales.’”

  “Ahhh, yes. Yeats. We were about to study him in English lit, but I guess we won’t get through that class now. I saw the book on Mr. Montgomery’s book list in the library when I was there searching for the earthquake books.”

  I tugged the book against my chest as though it was precious. Lowering my gaze to my knees, I quietly said, “Mr. Montgomery didn’t make it, did he?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Court?”

  “Yeah?”

  I took a deep breath. “You don’t think we’re going to get out of here, do you?”

  He gave me a sidelong glance. “Of course we will. I didn’t mean anything by that, about not making it through English Lit. It was a stupid statement. We will get to go back to school. You should try to remember, I’m in pain, and not everything I say will make total sense.”

  I knew exactly what he meant. We were not going to get out of this alive and he knew it.

  “How about you sit back here and read some of that book to me.”

  I scooted my bottom up against the wall and opened the book. Court put his arm around my shoulder and I held my breath, unable to move. Well, I didn’t want to move. Releasing the air from my lungs, I sat quietly for several seconds, pretending to focus on the book, but amazingly, through the odor of smoke, a faint musky scent still lingered on his clothes and his skin, capturing my attention. He smelled really good, which was remarkable considering what he’d been through over the past two days. When I finally started reading, I continued for about an hour until my voice became hoarse. I glanced at Court. His eyes were closed and his chest rose up and down. He didn’t stir or make a sound when I stopped reading so I figured he was asleep. My mouth was dry from reading and I needed some water, but didn’t want to disturb his sleep so I leaned my head back against the wall and closed my eyes.

  Chapter 18

  ~~ Courtland ~~

  I awoke in the dark, the cellar a completely black mass of cold. Adela’s head lay on my chest and just the idea of that was enough to send an electric current though my veins, but having it actually happen was nothing short of a lightning bolt. It was a little surreal, this whole situation. Not in my wildest dreams had I ever thought I would have Adela Castielle’s head resting on my chest while she slept so peacefully. I must be feeling better, having thoughts like this.

  The last thing I remembered was listening to her sweet voice as she read Yeats. The melodic sound still resonated in my mind. Somehow, I wound up lying flat on my back with Adela resting beside me, her head on my chest with the sleeping bag pulled up loosely over us. The book lay open on the floor next to her.

  I thought back to the time when I first laid eyes on this beautiful creature, then a little girl. I remembered it like it was yesterday. Max and I saw her the day she and her family moved in. We sat watching her from up on the hill. We were just entering into the fourth grade and were both too shy to talk to her then. About a week later, on the first day of school after summer vacation, I almost got the chance as she stood in front of me in the lunch line. She had two long, light brown braids hanging clear down to her waist and a sprinkle of freckles on her cheeks. I remember the way she smelled like strawberries. I sensed a bit of fear within her core. It was disturbing and I thought what could such a beautiful girl be afraid of? Fear of being the new girl, maybe. I’d opened my mouth to speak to her when Max appeared beside her, grabbing her hand and pulling her up to his place in line. Max and I had been close friends, like brothers, right up until the week before.

  I glanced down at Adela now. The freckles faded over the years. She was beautiful. I reached out and stroked her hair, a little darker now and not quite as long, but still lovely. She no longer wore it in two braids, but I’d seen her wear one long one at times. Right now, her hair hung loosely over her shoulders and I brushed a few of the renegade strands off her face with my finger.

  I smiled remembering the day last week after the first earthquake when she came to the door with her hair pulled back into a ponytail. It looked as if she hadn’t even brushed it before pulling it back and a few strands hung wildly loose down her back. She must have gotten dressed in a hurry, because her shirt was buttoned all crooked too. She was even beautiful then. When she came out to the stable later, she’d redone her hair and changed her top. I wanted to think she had done that for me, but I knew better. Her heart belonged to Max. That was something I wanted to change.

  She stirred, sat up and studied me with sleepy eyes. A little line formed between her eyebrows giving her a sort of dazed and confused expression. She pushed her hair away from her face and said, “I’m sorry.”

  “What for?”

  “Um … falling asleep on you.”

  I smiled. If she only knew. “You can fall asleep on me anytime. I liked it.”

  She frowned and shook her head, leaning back against the wall. “Boys.”

  “I know. We are incorrigible, right? But … now that you’re not lying on top of me anymore, I’m cold.”

  “I wasn’t lying on top of you. I was merely resting my head on you and I didn’t mean to. I simply fell asleep after I stopped reading. That’s all. Don’t make such a big deal out of it.”

  She reached over and pulled the sleeping bag up over most of my body, leaving my leg out.

  She frowned, picked up my leg and draped it over her lap. “Your leg should be elevated.” She glanced at my ankle. “The swelling has gone down some. How are you feeling?”

  “Well, you’ll be pleased to know my leg doesn’t hurt so much anymore. Nothing left there that’s any
worse than a bad sunburn and the blisters on my hand and fingers are smaller. But the pain in my ankle still comes and goes. At the moment there aren’t any stabbing shots of fire running over my skin.”

  She winced. “That must be awful, Court. I can’t image the pain you’ve been in. I’ve only burned my wrist once on my mom’s iron. I had to hold my wrist under the kitchen faucet for about five minutes before the pain stopped. To have burns like yours, well, I don’t think I would be able to talk, let alone have a coherent conversation with anyone. I gotta hand it to you. You have done miraculously well. How did you manage to get burned so badly anyway?”

  “It was stupid. I think about it constantly. I sat and watched my house burn and when I thought all the flames had died out I went walking through the charred debris looking for things.”

  “What things?”

  “Anything, actually. Something to hold on to. I spied the silver frame of the picture sticking out from under an unburned portion of the fireplace mantel and I picked it up. I stood there wiping the soot off, staring at the picture of my mom and dad—one I had taken of them when I was ten. We were at the lake, a few months before she died. Anyway, as I stood among the rubble, trying to hold it together and my leg began to burn. I guess I had been so engrossed in my grief that I just didn’t notice my pants on fire until my leg started burning. I bent down and tried to stop the flames, then the cuff of my shirt caught fire. I turned to run to the dirt so I could roll to put out the fire when I stepped on a weak board. It snapped in half and my foot landed on its side, twisting my ankle. I crawled out from the debris and rolled in the dirt until the flames went out. I kept rolling down the driveway, I guess. All I could think was that I wanted to get as far away from the fire as I possibly could, to get away from the piercing pain in my leg, but it kept coming with me. I gave up when I reached the road. I don’t really remember much after that, except seeing your beautiful face staring down at me.”