Insentient

Chapter 12

I have finished off coffee number two and I have as of yet to see Rod. I'm slightly worried and I have resisted the urge to unbar the front door and look out. That didn't end so well for me last time and I do not need a repeat of that very unpleasant event, I determine.

Instead, I've taken to pacing the kitchen, wandering in the main hall, and sitting in the Star Room, staring at the floor before I can't take it anymore. I expect that Rod will knock on the front door, but until that happens, I won't open it. A sudden thought occurs to me as I realize he may be at the door to the basement.

Of course, if he can come in, some foul-mouthed jerk-off might be able to also and that has me agitated. Someone screwed up and told him about the darkness and what that signifies. I wonder if he knows there are other entrances? He never did attempt to enter either one of them during his previous visit, so I'm almost certain he doesn't know, but I'd rather not take any chances.

I walk to the wall and push, the door embedded within opening easily to me as I poke my head in and peer into the tiny landing. Flickering light from the lit sconce offers enough radiance to determine there is no one on the other side as I step in and listen intently for even the faintest sound.

There is nothing, only the sound of my breathing which has increased in volume the further I step toward the stairs. There is a slight curvature in the narrow stairwell and I can't quite see the door below, so I descend one step at a time, listening intently and trying to calm my escalating nerves.

"Rod?" I whisper because I can't help it. Of course, the only thing I hear back is complete silence. A few more steps down and I can see that the doorway is closed, the small wood beam we used to prop up against the latch is still there and I determine I'll wait down here for Rod. A hard-enough shove would probably render the makeshift prop useless anyway, but it's all we had at the time. For once, I'm thanking that thorn bush for both hiding the small door and making it extremely difficult to access.

As soon as I reach the bottom, I smell it.

The tangy, acrid smell of smoke, which I normally find pleasing is assaulting me suddenly. It wafts in from the bottom of the small door and I have a feeling this is no ordinary camp fire. The smell is strong, stronger now, I notice as I crouch down. I press my ear to the door and I can hear something. Muted voices shouting, I think. Many of them and my hands are quick to push the prop to the side and yank open the latch.

Something's wrong. There's a major commotion outside and there's never much in the way of sound around here. Most of the time, the air is still, and the land is deathly quiet, so this new development has me on edge.

As soon as the door opens, the bush impedes its movement and the smell is overwhelming.

I can hear a multitude of sharply raised, panicked voices, my mind trying to discern one from the other to hear if I recognize any of them. I push a bit harder and my intent is completely unclear. Should I help? Can I help? I debate as I flatten against the wall and step to the side to avoid the razor-sharp thorns.

There's a glow beyond the high wall, illuminating the tree tops and my eyes are focused on that before a hard shove to my chest steals my breath, my head smashes against the stone and stars burst from behind my eyes before the world turns black.

*****

I'm disoriented, warm, my head hurts and my eyes are struggling to open as something else registers. I feel something scratchy and tight around my wrists and moving them only causes a sharp stabbing pain and a gasp to escape my mouth. I try desperately to recall what happened, remembering the smoke, the fire, stepping out before being shoved and I'm almost certain I know what I will see when my stinging eyes finally open.