THIRTEEN FOR DINNER

Thirty eight

THIRTY-EIGHT

       The legend of the Faulkner estate massacre is right on schedule and I am wondering if mankind really has the power to change history. Momma said there is a time to live and a time to die, maybe you can’t beat death. As much as I wanted her to live and come back home, the winds and the water took her from me, I had no control in the matter. And as much as I want Lunar, Emily and Quillan to live, Slimy and his three cohorts escaped and will pull off their wicked conspiracy, blame the Wilson boys, and live in wealth the rest of their days.      

            I’m terrified sitting here in the dark wondering what will become of us all. No one would ever think to look in the root cellar so we’re as good as dead. Momma also always said to never give up without a fight but my ropes are tight and I can barely twist my wrist to loosen them. I lean my head against the wall and try to spit out my gag. He shoved it in far and the more I try the more it lodges further back in my throat. Now I know why they call them gags, my eyes are watering and I feel like puking, the horrible taste doesn’t help.

            It’s pitch black in here, the root cellar is well built leaving no cracks in the outside wall so the moon light cannot filter in. I can hear Pearls steady breathing so I know she is still alive. I’m uncomfortable and my legs are going numb from the lack of circulation. Scooting over a smidge, I feel the slimy fruit and the thick syrup from the jar of peaches I broke earlier. I have an idea so I wiggle my fingers searching for a shard of broken glass. Unfortunately the tip of my finger finds it first bringing instant pain. Good, it’s sharp, it will do. Carefully, I pick up the glass, once again poking the inside of my fingers, wincing at the discomfort. Taking a deep breath I concentrate, hoping to slice into the ropes and not my wrist.  I’m slicing pretty good when I hear footsteps closing in behind the secret door. I stop my work, careful not to drop my piece of glass. I don’t want to have to pick it up again. The door burst open and the fourth man, the one the other bastard referred to as Jimmy, enters with several bags of loot. His lantern shatters the darkness and I watch as he stashes the stolen property in the back corner. I look over at Pearl and her eyes are closed but I know she’s alive because I’ve been listening to her breath. She is more than likely unconscious because of the hard blow to her head.

             Jimmy makes his way over to me, grinning with an evil sneer. “Frank told me to check on you, make sure your stayin’ put and all.” My heart crashes as he leans me forward and discovers my little carving tool. “What do we have here?”  He says, peeling it out of my hands. I don’t care, let him take it, there’s plenty of glass jars in this cellar, I’ll manage to break them all if I have to. “Didn’t Frank tell you to sit still and wait?” He says dropping the glass on the floor. He looks around the room and I hold my breath. I hope he’s too dumb to realize I can do it again but unfortunately he’s not. Grabbing my arms he pulls me back, dragging me far away from the broken glass, depositing me with the rest of their plunder. I would fight but I’m numb and can’t feel my limbs very well. “There’s no way you’re going to get away now,” he says taking the rest of the rope and securing me to one of the pillars bracing the roof.

            Taking the light, he slips out the secret door, back to the big house. I try to move but he’s secured me so tight I can barely inhale. I’m not sure of the time but I’m certain it’s been nearly two hours since I found Pearl in the pantry. That makes it around ten o’clock. Two hours until doomsday. I’m wondering what else the men have done other than robbing the Faulkner’s blind while they entertain downstairs oblivious to what’s going on in the rest of their house. Has Lunar been hung yet? Does Emily know? If so, has she hung herself too? Maybe all of this has already transpired and Quillan has disappeared as well.