Jude kept his hands on my waist as I climbed down the ladder. “I kept you alive. I’d say that’s better than being fuckin’ posh and wearing suits and shit.”
“Don’t act like you’re some grizzly mountain man who’s too good for city life. You wear polo shirts to work,” I sassed as my flip-flops hit the dirt. “I bet you miss them already.”
Even in the darkness, I could see his smile. Jude reached overhead and tugged on a string. A single exposed lightbulb illuminated the otherwise tomb-like space. I shivered as the cold began to creep into my bones.
“What was that about wanting AC?” Jude asked.
“Why is it so cold?” I asked as I looked around at the menagerie of supply shelves, footlockers, and trunks.
“That’s what happens when you’re underground.”
“Hardy-har-har,” I deadpanned.
“Old cellar,” Jude said. “Keeps things cool when there’s no power.”
I glanced at the light bulb that was very clearly on. “But there is power.”
“Hidden solar panels,” he said. “It’s enough to run the fridge and keep the lights on without a gas generator, but if there’s a streak of storms or it’s winter, the power gets a little patchy.”
“And why don’t you just have normal electricity like a normal person?”
Jude glanced at me. “Because then there would be a record that this place exists.”
My observations began to make more sense. “I’m guessing you’re not on city water then.”
“Can’t be on city water if there’s no city. You ever had well water?”
“Can’t say I have.”
Jude began to rummage around one of the shelves where there was a stack of license plates. “It’s an acquired taste.”
I watched as he found a West Virginia plate, then grabbed a cobweb-covered binder and started flipping through plastic page protectors full of registration stickers. When he found the tab for West Virginia, he scanned the options until he found the current sticker.
“Overprepared” was the only word to sum up what I was watching. Jude applied the sticker to the license plate, tucked it under his arm, then grabbed a rusted red toolbox that sported a Champion Spark Plugs sticker. Half of it was obscured with atar-like substance that had long since dried. He grabbed a stack of Mylar bags from another shelf.
“What did you want me to see?” I asked. “It’s creepy down here.”
Jude nodded toward a short length of rope that dangled from the opening that led upstairs. “Grab that and close the door.”
Instead of arguing that it was stupid, I did what he said and yanked on the rope until the door closed overhead. If the light hadn’t been on, I wouldn’t have even been able to see my own hands.
“See that metal bar?” Jude asked.
I followed his gaze to the thick metal plate that was bolted in the middle of the underside of the door, spanning its length.
“Turn it,” Jude said.
I climbed up onto the second step, reached over my head, and slowly turned the thick steel beam until it crisscrossed the shorter width of the door.
“Try to shove on the door. Try to push it open.”
I climbed up two more steps so I had better leverage and shoved. The door didn’t even budge. Suddenly, I understood. It wasn’t for locking up. It was for lockingin.
Jude’s tone softened. “I need you to listen to me. If something happens, I want you to come down here and bar the door. Don’t hesitate. Don’t wait for me. You get down here and lock yourself in.”
My heart beat violently inside my chest. “But if I bar the door, you can’t get in from up there.”
Jude licked his lips. “This isn’t about me.”
