If Not Her, You

Part 5

If there's a God he made sure Bennett didn't come down the stairs the next morning. Adeline hears his footsteps above wandering around and they stop in front of the door but he doesn't come down. She hears them fade away and the front door slams shut. Using the radiator for support she pulls herself to her feet and stumbles to the other side of the basement. There are windows about eight feet above her. They're narrow and too high for her to climb out of with a broken hand. The boxes labeled "Junk"and "Things"are under the windows and she climbs on top of them to peer through.

Bennett is cleaning snow off his car. She looks around. If she can get out of the basement, find some clothes and food, she could get out of here. Hope rises in her stomach like soda bubbles out of a coke can. She waits for Bennett to back out of the drive way. When his taillights fade she steps off the boxes and grabs one when her head starts to spin. Those eggs she ate yesterday morning are long digested.

When her head stops spinning she pulls open the box labeled "Junk"and pulls out shirts and coats. They're spring coats but they're still coats. She roots around in the box looking for anything to help her get out of the basement. She finds dumb things like snow globes, old picture frames, little statues of land marks and not much else. There's a metal statue of the Eifel Tower and the Space Needle. She pulls them out and sets them aside. Maybe she can suddenly learn how to pick a lock.

She shuts the box and moves over to the box labeled "Things". It's actually just more junk. There's not much in here that's helpful. She's about to close the box when something catches the basement lights and glimmers. She shoves a few old stuffed animals aside and pulls out a hammer. A hammer. She could break a window with this or maybe through the door. She shuts the box and takes a second to look around for her pants. She finds them strew into the corner and pulls them over her bruised legs. She tucks the hammer into the back of her jeans and grabs the Space Needle.

The stairs are daunting and she climbs them on her knees in case the dizziness comes back. When she gets to the top she stands and leans against the door in exhaustion. She twists the door knob and though it turns the door doesn't budge. She shoves the needle of the statue into the keyhole and wiggles it around with zero idea of what she's actually doing. She hears a click after a few minutes and her heart soars but when she pulls the statue out, the top of the needle is missing. She drops the statue to the ground and it clatters down the stair case.

Adeline drops her head against the door, tapping it lightly against the wood. Wood. The door is wood and this house is old. Oh God, please. She pulls the hammer out of her pants and takes it in her right hand. Of course, he had to break the fingers on her dominate hand. She grips the hammer tightly and takes a practice swing at the door, right above the key hole. She puffs out a breath and counts to three.

"One, two, please for the love of anything work, three," Adeline rushes out and swings the hammer. The head goes halfway through the door and the fizzy bubbles of hope begin to grow again. She swings the hammer again and again until there's a hand size hole in the door. She sticks her hand through, splinters prickling at her skin and flicks the lock open. The door swings forward and she nearly screams with joy.

She rushes through the threshold and looks around the house. She's never been here before and has no idea where to go. But if she finds the kitchen, she can find food and maybe a land line. This was Bennett's grandmother's house after all. She wanders down the hallway and through a sparse living room and into an old musty dining room before coming to the kitchen. Her lip curls back in disgust. Bugs litter the counters and mold lines the ceilings. The smell of rot comes out of the fridge and Adeline can't even bear to open it. She pulls back a few cupboard doors, looking for any canned foods and finds cans of soup. There's a can opener in the first drawer she pulls open and she cracks the can.

There's no time to heat up the soup so she drinks it cold from the can. It runs down her cheeks and it tastes almost sour but it's the most filling thing she's had in a week. She throws the can in the sink and grabs another soup can. She scarfs it down, nearly gagging as it hits the back of her throat quickly. The can joins the other one in the sink and she looks around for a phone. There isn't one in the kitchen so she leaves, going back through the dining room and living room to the staircase. Maybe there's one in a bedroom upstairs.

Adeline heaves herself up the staircase and her muscles scream with the effort. Each bruise and cut seem to throb to a different rhythm, a heartbeat that doesn't belong to her. She gets to the top of the stairs and eyes the four doors. The one closest to her is cracked open and she peers inside. It's a worn-down bathroom. No phone in there. The next one is an old sewing room and a layer of dust as thick as her fingertip coats the furniture. But there's no phone. She shoves the third door open and stumbles into what must've been his grandmother's bedroom.

"Oh, thank God," Adeline whispers when she sees an old landline sitting on the nightstand next to the bed. She sprints to it and prays for a dial tone. Her fingers brush over the cool dusty plastic of the old phone and something catches her attention out of the corner of her eye. A scream of terror catches in her throat when she realizes what's looking back at her.

Bennett's grandmother's corpse.