Anxious

Chapter 12: Cultivate

The smell of spaghetti sauce filled the kitchen. Dan sat with Aunt Sher at a small, circular table in the middle of the room, while James stood in the doorway, between the kitchen and living room. 

"Ssit and have a drink with us Jamess ol' buddy." Dan slurred a bit. He had been drinking the best moonshine known to man. The old woman had damn near perfected the recipe. 

"I prefer to keep an eye on Leslie. That was quite a scare for her."

"I am so sorry, hun. My emotions got the better of me. Woulda helped if Daniel had mentioned her condition." She peered at him disapprovingly, like a mother would her son.

Dan bowed his head sheepishly, "I haven't seen ya in five years, lady. I got excited. It slipped my mind."

Aunt Sher shook her head and looked at James, apologetically. "How long does she stay out? This sketty ain't gunna eat itself."

"I am not entirely sure. I believe all of this madness has been too much for her fragile mind." He cleared his throat, "May I ask what we walked through when I carried Leslie inside? You have some sort of operation going on here?"

Dan and the great aunt snickered together. 

She spoke, "Nah. 'Less you count homegrown food, milk, an' livestock an 'operation'. I'm almost self-sufficient out here, an' if the end of days was here, I could be! All thanks to Daniel bein' a paranoid kook, like me."

James raised an eyebrow. He was still curious, and not satisfied with her answer. The "operation" he referred to was an underground bunker that connected the house to the garage out back. Dan and the old lady had dug it out by hand, about 25 years ago, and Dan had built the garage himself.

When Leslie collapsed out there, James was led through a door in the back of the garage, down some dirt stairs, and through a steel door that opened into a large room. It was stocked with food, water, blankets, batteries, flashlights, and more. There were cots in one corner, and a small enclosure with a toilet and shower, in another. Also, an astonishing arsenal of firearms lined a whole wall. 

James mused, there may have been every gun he'd ever heard of in the 33 years he'd been alive. However, he didn't get a chance to inspect them, as he was hurried through another steel door, and more dirt steps. This time, they led to a trap door inside a walk-in closet, in the living room of the house. Quite a set up, he thought.

"I would really appreciate a better explanation of our situation. I have been extremely perplexed for some time now."

"Daniel never has been one for gossip," she laughed.

Dan eyed James. He still didn't trust him, and was really surprised that he was still tagging along. 

"What do you want with her anyway, Mr. Scientist?"

Sheryl cut in, "Oh stop it, Daniel. You're drunk. He obviously cares about her. An' he deserves to know what he's got himself into." She turned toward James, "Come try my moonshine, lovey. Relax, an' I'll tell ya what I know. But I'm sure Daniel has many, many more secrets."

James shifted on his feet nervously. "I need to stay sober in order to take care of Leslie." 

He glanced at her lying peacefully on the sofa. She had been sleeping a lot, and he was sure she'd be awake any moment, but he didn't want to be rude. He pulled out a chair and sat stiffly.