Don't Look Back (30 page)

Who does this place belong to? I wondered. I didn’t really care—I was just grateful it was here.

I had seen my dad build fires in our fireplace many times and figured it couldn’t be that difficult to get a fire going. After placing a few logs in the stove, I scrunched up some pages of the newspaper and pushed them under the logs. I lit a match and held it to the edge of a newspaper, which quickly caught fire, but the logs remained stubbornly unlit. Stuffing more newspapers into the stove didn’t seem to help like I thought it would.

Sighing, I stood and picked up the lantern, then began a careful search in the immediate vicinity of the stove, looking for something that might give me an idea. Finally, I found it. A fireplace poker.

I set the lantern back down and used the poker to move the smoldering newspaper around. Gently blowing on the embers as I added a few more newspapers didn’t give me the result I’d been trying for and discouragement began to get the better of me.

Dad made this look so easy. Picturing him lighting a warm fire in our living room fireplace made me suddenly miss my family. As I thought about their reaction to finding me missing, I didn’t feel good anymore; not even when I thought about Mom. I felt guilty and wished I had a way to let them know I was okay.

I wondered if they would call the police and have them out looking for a boy named William. I felt stupid for the lie I’d told Amy and wished I would have thought this through.

Well, I’m stuck here for now, I thought. I’d better deal with it.

I turned my attention back to the wood-burning stove. The newspapers had gone out completely. Using the poker, I pushed them to the back of the stove. This time when I wadded up the newspapers, I made sure to do it loosely. Repositioning the wood, I carefully placed the newspaper around and under the wood before lighting another match.

As the flames from the newspaper licked the firewood, I held my breath, afraid the logs would still refuse to burn. The flame seemed to shrink and I quickly added two more newspaper wads, which helped the flames grow. Suddenly I heard crackling as the logs caught fire.

Relief pulsed through me as the beginnings of warmth emanated from the stove.

Soon the chill began to seep from my body and warmth took its place. I fed more logs into the fire and made sure they were blazing before closing the door to the stove. Dragging the cot close to the heat, I took the space blanket out of my backpack, along with the water bottle and a granola bar, then sat on the cot and wrapped the blanket over the lower half of my body.

Now that I could focus on something besides building the fire, I munched on the granola bar and thought about my parents and how frantic they must be by now. Running away didn’t seem like such a good idea anymore and I wished I hadn’t been so impulsive.

That was one thing Mom always accused me of—being impulsive.

“You’re always jumping into things without thinking,” Mom would say, shaking her head. “Why don’t you think things through once in a while?”

I frowned as I thought about Mom picking on me. She never seemed to pick on Amy or my two younger brothers. Maybe it was because I was the oldest. Mom thought I should act like a grown-up all the time. It just wasn’t fair. I hadn’t asked to be born first.

Then I thought about Dad. He would be worried about me being out with some boy, assuming Amy told him. But what if she kept her promise and didn’t tell? What if they figured out that I ran away? Dad would be worried about me out in this snowstorm. Would he go out in it to search for me? Of course he would. What if something happened to him? It would be my fault. Guilt pounded through me as I pictured him searching and searching for me.

“What have I done?” I whispered. I stared out the small windows on either side of the door but could see nothing in the darkness.

I would go home as soon as the sun came up. Maybe I’d even get home in time to catch the bus to school.

The thought of home and family made me feel better. All I had to do was follow my purple markings on the trees and I would be home.

I set the water bottle on the floor and curled up on the cot. The space blanket had done a good job of warming me up and I tucked my arms underneath it. Sleep came quickly, but during the night I woke to a violent crashing sound. It was too dark to see what had happened, but my heart raced until I realized I was okay. I climbed off of the cot and felt my way to the lantern. It had gone dark and when I tried to light it I found the mantle had burned out and I didn’t know where to find a replacement.

The room had become chilled and I realized the fire was nearly out. I added some wood and blew on the embers, which flared up into small flames, licking the dry logs. To my relief, soon the fire was going again. I thought it strange that despite the brightly burning fire, the room seemed to be as cold as ever.

Knowing there was nothing I could do until morning, I lay back on the cot and tried to sleep. 

A few hours later bright sunlight streamed into the room, waking me. I stretched and yawned, then sat up on the cot. The fire had gone out, which was fine since I was planning on leaving as soon as I had a snack. Glancing toward where the sunlight shone in, I saw that a large tree had fallen on the roof, right above the door.

Obviously, that was the large crash that had woken me. The door bent at a weird angle and the windows were shattered, their small openings allowing snow to filter through. Walking over to the windows, I peeked through the space where the glass should have been and saw the snowstorm had stopped, although there appeared to be at least a foot of snow on the ground.

I turned the doorknob and pulled, but nothing happened. I yanked on the door as hard as I could, but it wouldn’t budge. I pushed against the tree but it was wedged in tight and didn’t give an inch. 

The blood drained from my face as I realized the reality of my situation. I was trapped. The windows were much too small to crawl through, even if I did want to risk slicing my body with the broken shards of glass, and I couldn’t see any way through the tree.

To keep the panic at bay, I began pacing the room, trying to come up with a solution. I walked along each side of the room, occasionally pounding on the wall to see if there were any weak spots where I could break through. The walls were solid wood.

I decided to try to find a tool or some object to bang against the wall to try to punch a hole in the wood. Ransacking the small room, I looked for anything that would do the job. I wasn’t having any luck, but then looked at the cot where I had spent the night.

Maybe I could break off one of the legs and use that to make a hole in the wall. I turned the cot over, its legs sticking up, and sat next to it. As I twisted the leg this way and that, trying to break it off, I felt something on the floor jabbing my leg. There was just enough light coming into the room for me to see a small screw poking up from the floorboards.

Something next to it caught my eye. Curiosity overcame me and for a moment I forgot my predicament. A large, round handle, more like a ring, was tucked into the floor. It was flush with the floor and not at all noticeable unless you knew where to look, or happened to find a loose screw next to it.

Pushing the cot out of the way, I lifted the edge of the ring from the floor so I could wrap my hand around it, then pulled upward. A trapdoor creaked as I pulled harder. There were no hinges holding it in place, so the whole trapdoor came free of the floor and I pushed it to the side. Gazing into the dark hole beneath the floor, I saw the first few rungs of a ladder.

No way am I going into that dark hole, I thought. But what if it leads out of here?

I knew I couldn’t make myself go down there without a light and decided to look around to see if I could find another mantle, now that it was lighter in the room. I quickly searched the drawers in the cabinet and found a box with one spare mantle. I silently thanked the person who had left the meager supplies that I had needed.

A few minutes later I had the lantern shining brightly. Even though I didn’t expect to find anything but an old cellar, I decided to pack my few belongings into my backpack and bring it with me. Maybe I could find some canned fruit or something down there.

In the back of my mind I pictured spider webs crisscrossing the room, but climbed down the ladder nonetheless, holding the lantern with one hand and gripping the ladder rungs with the other. There were a few spider webs, but I studiously ignored them and focused on my task.

It seemed to take a while to climb to the bottom, but once my feet touched the hard ground I held the lantern high, examining the small space. The room smelled strongly of Earth and I hoped there weren’t too many insects lurking about, ready to crawl up my legs. The thought made me shudder with revulsion.

Dirt walls surrounded me on three sides, but where the fourth wall should have been I saw an opening that led to a hallway. Intrigued, I held the lantern in front of me and stepped toward the narrow opening, wondering where it led.

Chapter Three

Wooden beams ran up the sides of the opening and a short beam wedged across the top. I wondered if it was keeping the whole thing from collapsing. Dirt-packed walls lined both sides of the hallway and I took a tentative step forward. The lantern tossed eerie shadows along the dirt walls and I hesitated, wondering if it was a mistake to keep going. Then I thought of the room I had just left, and how there didn’t seem to be a way to leave. I continued on, hopeful the tunnel would lead outside.

Dank air filled my nostrils, reminding me of the time we had dug several deep holes in the yard when planting trees. It had been dirty work and I hadn’t liked getting so filthy. Now though, I didn’t care if I ended up grimy—I wanted to get back home, whatever it took. I noticed it wasn’t as chilly down here as it had been in the hut, but it was still cool.

I moved forward, the lantern held out in front of me. After taking a dozen steps I turned and looked behind me. The dark had swallowed the small cellar that led up to the hut. A shiver of fear rolled up my spine, but going back didn’t seem any better an idea than moving forward. True, I knew what I would find if I went back. But I also knew I had tried everything I could think of to get out of that hut and nothing had worked.

Going forward seemed the only option.

Hesitating, I looked in the direction of the cellar. Then with sudden resolve, I pivoted back toward the unknown and began walking. With the light from the lantern I could see about five feet in front of me. Besides the occasional cobweb, which I carefully avoided, the dirt-walled tunnel was boringly monotonous. My fears began to recede as I strode along.

I wondered who had built this tunnel and why. It seemed odd to have such a place in the middle of the forest. Could it have been built long ago? Back when people needed to make quick escapes or hide? My mind wandered as I imagined who could have used this tunnel in the past.

Suddenly I found my face inches from a large, hairy black spider dangling from the ceiling on a thick strand of web. Startled, I screamed and threw my hands up as I jumped back. The lantern flew from my hands and went out.

Pitch black. That was the phrase that came to mind. I had heard it before but I had never truly experienced it. The complete lack of light horrified me. It was much worse than when I had entered the hut the night before. Then, there had been enough moonlight trickling in through the windows for me to see outlines of objects. I had thought it was unnervingly dark then, but it was nothing compared to this.

This darkness suffocated me, surrounded me, paralyzed me. I froze in place, and my imagination took over. Creepy crawly things were coming out of the earth-covered walls even now, sensing my fear, sensing my vulnerability. Dreadful creatures with long fangs and sharp claws that only lived in dark places were marching steadily toward me in packs, ready to tear me apart.

Pure, cold terror placed its hand on my scalp and worked its way through my body, chilling me to the bone. My heart pounded so hard I knew in a moment it would come right out of my chest and I would drop dead.

I hoped it would happen quickly.

Then I remembered that the spider, which I
knew
existed, was hanging right in front of me. Even now it could be making its way across the ceiling to climb directly into my hair. I could practically feel it creeping down the back of my shirt and onto my skin. Revulsion pulsed through me and I shuddered violently.

Realizing the best way to avoid the spider would be to get low, and fast, I dropped to the floor on all fours. Mildly surprised that bugs didn’t immediately swarm up my arms, I decided to see if I could find the fallen lantern.

My eyes were open, but the dark was so complete they felt like they were not only closed, but covered with a wide black cloth tied tightly around my head. I opened them wider, but that made no difference.

Trying to ignore the feeling of complete and utter helplessness, I swept my hands from side to side, trying to find the lantern and praying that I wouldn’t touch anything living. Inching forward, I continued to search. Finally my fingers touched the hot glass of the lantern and I jerked my hand away. Relief washed over me in great waves.

Sitting back on my heels, I tore the backpack off of my shoulders and felt the side pockets until I found the place where I had put the matches. Grasping the small box as if it were my lifeline, I set the backpack down, then held the box of matches right in front of my eyes. But I couldn’t see it. Not even a hint of it. But I could smell it. A slight sulfur smell emanated from the box from when I had scraped the match across the striking surface.

I slid open the box and heard the sound of matches falling to the ground.

“Crap,” I muttered. The box had been upside down.

Massaging my forehead where an ache was beginning, I sighed. I began using the sides of my hands to gather the matches when an idea occurred to me.

I picked up one of the matches from the ground with one hand, and with the other I held the matchbox. Dragging the match across the striking surface, I held my breath, anticipating the bright light of fire. But nothing happened. I tried again, and a third time. Finally, on the fourth attempt, the tip of the match bloomed into flame.