Page 172

An ember landed near her boot. Jodie stepped on it until it went dark, then turned back toward the open cellar.

I don’t want to go down there alone.

The admission came so fast it almost stopped her.

I don’t want to be alone.

“I just want someone to rescue me.”

There was nobody to hear it. Nobody to fix it for her.

Jodie wiped her wet eyes with the heel of her hand, grabbed the edge of the cellar door, and lowered herself onto the first step. She waited until the dizziness settled.

She lowered her bandana. The air coming up from below smelled of dirt, old stone, and dampness, enough to feel almost miraculous against her burning throat. She took another step, then another, bracing her hands against the walls on either side, her torso twisted and moving sideways because the stairs were narrow and uneven beneath her boots. By the time she reached the bottom, her legs were shaking so hard she had to lean against a thick, wooden support beam.

She looked up through the narrow opening above her. Most of the smoke rolled over it, but not all, as the cool air sucked down some of the haze.

Close it.

Jodie climbed halfway back up and reached for the door. Her arms felt strangely heavy, as though they belonged to somebody else. She caught the handle and pulled. The wood dragged reluctantly across the opening, scraping against stone.

I don’t have enough strength to close it.

“Come on.” She pulled harder.

The door finally dropped into place. Darkness swallowed her. Jodie froze. Her lungs stopped working. Not because of the smoke. Because there was no light. None. The last gray strip of daylight disappeared beneath the door, and suddenly the cellar felt smaller than it had from above, the stone walls closer, the ceiling lower.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. She grabbed for the handle.

The door didn’t move.

Jodie pulled again.

Nothing.

“No.”

She braced her shoulder against the door, ignored the roaring pain in her head, and pushed. Her knees nearly buckled as her vision flashed white and she saw stars in the darkness.

The door stayed shut.

“No. No, no, no.”

Panic came so fast her skin prickled from scalp to ankles. Jodie clawed for the handle again, breathing too quickly now, every breath catching higher in her chest than the one before it.

It opened. You opened it before. It opens.

She pushed until her arms trembled. The wood gave a fraction of an inch, then caught again with a hard scrape. Something had shifted, or the old door had lodged crooked into its frame.

Stop.

Her hands were shaking badly enough that she could hear her fingernails tapping against the metal bands.

Stop. You’re making yourself sick.

Jodie let go. She backed down the steps and sat down hard on the lowest one. The instant she stopped moving, nausea rolled through her again. She bent forward, elbows on her knees, spit out all the saliva suddenly filling her mouth, and took deep breaths until she was reasonably certain she wasn’t going to throw up.

Her whole body had started trembling. She couldn’t tell if she was cold. That almost made her laugh, except nothing about it was funny and laughing would probably hurt too much anyway.