32
Sage
Nine hours buried
A muffled pinging sound came from above my head, and I held my breath. What was that?
There was another pinging sound, then another, until they combined into a dull roar.
Raindrops, I realized. It was starting to rain hard.
There was another slam of a door. Then another. Mr. Edward and Greasy Hair had probably just gotten into their cars, so they wouldn ’ t get wet. I forced myself to take a deep breath. The loud rain was good. The sound of the water droplets falling on the metal would make it harder for them to hear the scraping sound of Ms. Jessa ’ s belt buckle against the plywood.
I hadn ’ t said anything yet about Jeepers being our old bus driver, Mr. Edward. It felt like something I should whisper in Ms. Jessa ’ s ear instead of announcing it to the other kids, and I couldn ’ t bring myself to climb down and stop scraping yet.
It already felt like we were out of time.
“ Sage, I can ’ t hold the bucket very good,” Bonnie said, on the verge of a whine, her voice rising so I could hear her above the raindrops splashing down on the sheet metal above us. “ You ’ re moving too much and my arms are really getting tired.”
“ Let ’ s rest for a few minutes,” I said reluctantly, because my legs were shaking hard enough that I was worried I ’ d lose my balance and tip the bucket over any second. It felt like trying to balance on a skateboard.
“ You doing okay, Sage?” Ms. Jessa asked.
I opened my mouth then closed it. “ I ’ m just tired,” I said quietly, struggling to keep my balance as I lowered my body into a crouch and got down off the bucket, careful not to step on Bonnie ’ s arms.
As I did, an image of Mr. Edward ’ s smashed-up face covered by pantyhose zoomed into my mind.
I remembered what Ms. Jessa had told us earlier, when I was trying to scratch the hole in the paint to see the men. That they wouldn ’ t be wearing masks to hide their faces unless they really didn't want us to know who they were. Because then, if we ever got out of here, we could tell on them.
So I decided that maybe I shouldn ’ t tell anyone, even Ms. Jessa, what I ’ d realized. She ’ d been helping us try to escape, but what if she stopped when she found out I knew who Mr. Edward was?
I frowned and tried to think it through.
Unlike Bonnie, I ’ d never thought Mr. Edward was all that mean. Just a little bit grumpy, like Grandpa could get when he hadn ’ t gotten his nap or when he forgot something he knew he was supposed to remember.
That was before, though. Bonnie had been right all along. Mr. Edward was mean. He ’ d pointed a gun at all of us and made us come down into this hole.
I ’ d still take Mr. Edward over Greasy Hair, though.
He seemed like “ The lesser of two evils.” That was what Grandpa said one time when Mom burned the garlic bread and over-boiled the spaghetti. He was only joking, but sometimes those words still popped into my mind. I ’ d been wanting a chance to say them out loud, but I ’ d never really found the right situation.
Until now, anyway.
“ Sage? ” Ms. Jessa said again when me and Bonnie scooted toward the edge of the top mattresses.
“ One sec,” I said, staying low to the ground so I wouldn ’ t lose my balance or tip over the edge like I nearly had earlier.
The mattress stack was tottering a lot more now than it had been. And from the sound of soft snores coming from the base, most of the other kids had fallen back asleep.
I didn ’ t blame them. My head felt so fuzzy and dizzy I was starting to see dancing gray spots in front of my eyes when I blinked in the dark. It had to be really, really late by now.
My body told me it wasn ’ t just dark because we were in a hole. It was dark because it was the middle of the night.
Bonnie grabbed for my hands as she lay on her stomach and let Ms. Jessa help her down off the mattresses. I squeezed her hands twice and held on a little longer than I needed to, because I was proud of her for holding that gross bathroom bucket so long when even some of the older kids had fallen asleep.
When it was my turn to come down off the mattress stack, I finally answered Ms. Jessa. Although I left out the part about Jeepers being Mr. Edward, at least for now. “ I tried to listen to what the men were saying, but the rain made it hard. I can poke my fingers through the plywood though,” I said. “ Just a little bit. I can make it even bigger. I just need to rest a minute.”
I knew I needed more than a minute, though. Now that I was standing on solid ground, I felt so tired I just let my legs give way and crumbled at Ms. Jessa ’ s feet where Bonnie was already sitting. My lungs hurt like I ’ d just run the mile at school without stopping. Maybe it was just my imagination, but the air felt the teeniest bit less thick now that I ’ d made that hole in the plywood. That made me less scared.
“ You ’ re a brave girl, Sage,” Ms. Jessa said, her voice so sincere and proud that I blinked my eyes open in surprise. The way she said it made me wonder if she was a mom, because it sounded just like the way Mom talked to me and Bonnie when we ’ d done something that made her really happy.
“ Thanks,” I said, my eyes already closing. “ Bonnie? Are you still awake?”
The bunker had gone quiet all around us in the dark, except for the sound of more snores and heavy breathing. “ She ’ s by my foot,” Ms. Jessa whispered so quietly I could barely hear her over the drumming of the rain on the metal above us. “ I think she ’ s already asleep.”
I nodded, wondering if I should scoot over next to her so she wouldn ’ t have to sleep on the hard, bumpy metal floor of the bunker. “ How long should we rest for?” I asked, suddenly afraid that if I let my eyes close for even a second, I ’ d open them to find out that days had passed and we ’ d lost our chance to escape.
“ I ’ ll stay awake and get you up in a few hours. You ’ ll work faster when you ’ re fresh, anyhow.” She paused then added, “ There ’ s thirty sandwiches left. I think they ’ re planning on keeping us down here for a couple of days,” she said.
“ You ’ re a spy, too,” I mumbled, impressed she ’ d thought to count the sandwiches.
There was a rustling sound, and then Ms. Jessa handed me a plastic cup of water and half a sandwich. “Here,” she said quietly. “So you can get some of your strength back. You’ve been working really hard.”
My stomach rumbled gratefully. “Thanks.” I smiled and took the cup and sandwich from her, gulping both down so fast I hardly tasted the peanut butter. Then I wiped my mouth and tried to find a position to sleep in.
It was impossible to get comfortable on the hard ground, but I wasn ’ t about to wake everybody up to pull a mattress down from the top of the stack. So I sat up and leaned my head against the lumpy mattress tower as Ms. Jessa sat down between me and Bonnie. That position wasn ’ t very comfortable either, though.
Ms. Jessa was quiet for a few seconds. Then she said, “ If you want, you can lay your head on my shoulder.”
She said it almost like a question. Like I might say no. But I was so thankful for a comfortable place to sleep, I just shifted my body and lay my head down against her without even opening my mouth to say yes.