Shelly leaned in for a closer look at the vintage pin-up poster. “That’s Betty Grable. I remember her from old films. That’s probably worth a small fortune. And thosemagazines might be worth something. Not gold-level money, but collectors would want them.”
Ivy sighed. “Not everything is about money, Shells. Just look at this place. Everything has been well preserved down here. Historians would love to see this.”
Ivy picked up one of the notebooks, opening it with care. The pages were brittle and covered in neat handwriting. Dates, times, observations. There were log entries from whoever had manned this post during the war.
“Someone was down here regularly.” Ivy glanced through the pages. “They were recording what they saw, so this was an active station.”
Then she noticed something that made her smile. At the back of the notebook were doodles and sketches. She looked closer. They were mostly of animals and clusters of fruit, but they were good, like the work of a young, talented artist.
Poppy had moved to a smaller room off to one side. “Aunt Ivy. You need to see this.”
Ivy followed her. “There’s another room?”
She glanced around. Metal bunk beds stood against one wall.
Poppy swung her light to a corner. “There.”
On the other wall was an opening shored up with rough timbers.
“Where do you think that goes?” Poppy asked.
Ivy shrugged. “Maybe that’s a getaway passage. Should we check it out?”
Poppy crouched, examining the entrance. “It looks different from the rest of this place. Maybe it was built afterward.”
Ivy was about to suggest they explore the tunnel when her light swept across something that made her freeze.
On the lower bunk, hidden in shadows, was a sleeping bag.
Not an old military one from the 1940s. This was a modern roll made of a blue synthetic material, the kind sold at sporting goods stores. And next to it, a dirty backpack and a reusable water bottle.
“Someone’s been here,” Ivy said quietly. “Recently, I think.”
They stared at the sleeping bag, the implications sinking in. Someone had discovered this place, probably via the tunnel.
“We need to go,” Shelly said, her voice tight. “Now.”
“Agreed.” Ivy backed toward the ladder, keeping her light on the tunnel entrance. Was someone down there watching them? Had they heard voices and fled deeper into the passage?
Were they coming back?
Shelly reached the metal rungs first, scrambling up as quickly as she could. Poppy followed close behind.
“I’ll be right up,” Ivy said.
She brought out her phone and snapped several photos before scaling the rungs. After pulling herself into the bright sunshine, she rested on the ground, catching her breath. Poppy and Shelly looked shaken from their harried exit.
Poppy nodded toward the hatch. “Let’s close that.”
The three of them eased the creaking cover back into place. They shoveled dirt over it, working quickly to disguise their excavation.
Poppy sat down, breathing hard. “That sleeping bag was new.”
“Someone is living down there.” Shelly rubbed her arms. “Or hiding. Either way, we just broke into their home.”
Ivy recalled something she’d heard. “Didn’t Vanz, the teenager at the farmers market, tell us he had a sleeping bag? What if he found this place?”
Shelly shook her head. “This is getting to be too much to take in.”
