Chapter 16 #2
I wasn’t entirely sure what I had expected this “safe house” to be.
Maybe it was just safe because anyone else would have condemned it.
The cabin had one full-sized bed, a couch, and a single nightstand between the two of them.
The couch and bed were covered in sheets, while the nightstand was coated in a thick layer of dust. The kitchen had a small oven with a cooktop, a sink, and a refrigerator that was either intentionally retro or was really just that old.
There was a small door that could have been a closet or a bathroom.
And for goodness’ sake, I hoped it was the bathroom.
The only other thing was a woodstove that was dripping in cobwebs.
I stood in the doorway, watching as Jude moved about the single-room space.
He went to the sink first and turned on the tap.
The water sputtered and spat, gurgling in the pipe before finally pouring out.
He watched carefully as the flow went from cloudy to clear.
The fridge was next. He opened it, poked his head in, then reached around to the back to plug it in to the wall.
Jude was silent as he crossed the cabin with long, purposeful strides. He pulled the nightstand out from the wall. That was when I noticed the notches in the dusty wood floor.
He bent, slipped his finger into a small divot in the floorboard, and lifted.
A square of flooring, barely bigger than his body, lifted on hidden hinges. I watched curiously as he peered into the hole, then slowly eased himself down. Are there stairs?
“Amelia,” he called from below. “Come here.” His tone wasn’t panicked, so I assumed there was something he wanted me to see rather than something that was wrong.
I crept across the cabin and peeked down into the trapdoor, where there was, in fact, a small wooden ladder. “Yeah?”
“Come down.”
I laughed. “Absolutely not.”
Footsteps shuffled as he moved back into view and stood at the base of the ladder. “I’m not kidding. Come down. I need to show you where things are.”
“Is there a real safe house down there? You know, one with air conditioning and amenities and cool touch pad biometric-access-only doors that hide your state-of-the-art technology and weapons cache?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Do you think I’m James Bond or some shit?”
“A girl can dream.”
Jude rolled his eyes and reached up. “Get down here.”
“You’re right. James Bond has fewer tattoos and better manners,” I said as I grumbled the entire way down.
Jude kept his hands on my waist as I climbed down the ladder. “I kept you alive. I’d say that’s better than being fuckin’ posh and wearing suits and shit.”
“Don’t act like you’re some grizzly mountain man who’s too good for city life. You wear polo shirts to work,” I sassed as my flip-flops hit the dirt. “I bet you miss them already.”
Even in the darkness, I could see his smile. Jude reached overhead and tugged on a string. A single exposed lightbulb illuminated the otherwise tomb-like space. I shivered as the cold began to creep into my bones.
“What was that about wanting AC?” Jude asked.
“Why is it so cold?” I asked as I looked around at the menagerie of supply shelves, footlockers, and trunks.
“That’s what happens when you’re underground.”
“Hardy-har-har,” I deadpanned.
“Old cellar,” Jude said. “Keeps things cool when there’s no power.”
I glanced at the light bulb that was very clearly on. “But there is power.”
“Hidden solar panels,” he said. “It’s enough to run the fridge and keep the lights on without a gas generator, but if there’s a streak of storms or it’s winter, the power gets a little patchy.”
“And why don’t you just have normal electricity like a normal person?”
Jude glanced at me. “Because then there would be a record that this place exists.”
My observations began to make more sense. “I’m guessing you’re not on city water then.”
“Can’t be on city water if there’s no city. You ever had well water?”
“Can’t say I have.”
Jude began to rummage around one of the shelves where there was a stack of license plates. “It’s an acquired taste.”
I watched as he found a West Virginia plate, then grabbed a cobweb-covered binder and started flipping through plastic page protectors full of registration stickers. When he found the tab for West Virginia, he scanned the options until he found the current sticker.
“Overprepared” was the only word to sum up what I was watching.
Jude applied the sticker to the license plate, tucked it under his arm, then grabbed a rusted red toolbox that sported a Champion Spark Plugs sticker.
Half of it was obscured with a tar-like substance that had long since dried.
He grabbed a stack of Mylar bags from another shelf.
“What did you want me to see?” I asked. “It’s creepy down here.”
Jude nodded toward a short length of rope that dangled from the opening that led upstairs. “Grab that and close the door.”
Instead of arguing that it was stupid, I did what he said and yanked on the rope until the door closed overhead. If the light hadn’t been on, I wouldn’t have even been able to see my own hands.
“See that metal bar?” Jude asked.
I followed his gaze to the thick metal plate that was bolted in the middle of the underside of the door, spanning its length.
“Turn it,” Jude said.
I climbed up onto the second step, reached over my head, and slowly turned the thick steel beam until it crisscrossed the shorter width of the door.
“Try to shove on the door. Try to push it open.”
I climbed up two more steps so I had better leverage and shoved. The door didn’t even budge. Suddenly, I understood. It wasn’t for locking up. It was for locking in.
Jude’s tone softened. “I need you to listen to me. If something happens, I want you to come down here and bar the door. Don’t hesitate. Don’t wait for me. You get down here and lock yourself in.”
My heart beat violently inside my chest. “But if I bar the door, you can’t get in from up there.”
Jude licked his lips. “This isn’t about me.”
For a moment, neither of us said a word.
“So I just . . . wait for help?”
Jude tipped his head, wordlessly urging me to follow him. In the corner of the cellar, there was a wooden door. Beside it was a backpack and flashlight. “You lock yourself in, grab that backpack and flashlight, and go through that door.”
“Where does it lead to?”
“It’s a tunnel that lets out about half a mile down the mountain. Comes out by a river. Walk in the direction of the current, and it’ll take you into town. It’s a long walk. Couple hours if we’re driving. All day if you’re walking. But if you have to go through that tunnel, you should be running.”
I laughed. I laughed hard, and I didn’t have a damn clue as to why. Maybe I was sleep-deprived. Maybe it was some kind of survival instinct kicking in. Laughing was preferable to crying, right?
“You do know that you’re teaching me exactly how to escape you, right?”
Jude shook his head. “I’m teaching you how to stay alive.”
I couldn’t help but laugh again. “This is . . . This is ridiculous! Who on earth needs a safe house to begin with? And you have a safe house with an escape tunnel.” I put my hands out in a show of surrender.
“Look, I know John Valentine is like New Jersey’s modern-day Al Capone, but I think we’re far enough away that we can cut the crap.
Call the cops and tell them my brother’s in danger and let me go home. ”
His expression instantly became colder than the underground cellar. “We’re not running from John Valentine, Amelia. We’re running from everyone.”