Chapter 24
“Root cellar, now. Stay quiet. ”
Nancy’s humming stilled immediately, the air thickening with tension.
As they moved, Elena noticed Nancy’s hands—her fingers twitching and rubbing at her wrists in a slow, repetitive motion.
Nancy’s breathing grew shallow and uneven, small jerky movements rippling through her arms and shoulders.
It was a familiar pattern: her stimming was increasing, a physical coping mechanism that rose with her anxiety.
Elena’s heart clenched as she silently registered the signs.
Elena leaned close and whispered softly, “The guys have this under control. Let’s just go in the cellar and have us a quiet party. I’ve got the supplies.”
Though terror churned beneath her calm exterior, Elena forced it aside—Nancy’s well-being came first.
“Stay hidden. Don’t come out until you hear one of us say the safeword: watermelon,” Enzo reminded through the comms.
Elena nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat.
Salty barked softly, his ears perking up as he sensed the shift in the atmosphere.
The puppy moved closer to Nancy, gently nudging her leg with his nose as if offering quiet comfort.
Elena took Nancy’s hand gently, letting Salty’s calm presence comfort them both, and started to lead her toward the worn wooden door near the back of the barn.
“Stay close,” Elena whispered, reaching for the cellar door. “We’ll be safe down here.”
But Nancy’s humming stilled completely, replaced by a rigid tightness in her jaw.
Without warning, she pulled her hand free, stepping back sharply.
Her eyes were wide and glassy, fixed somewhere beyond the barn with a distant, hollow look—frozen and petrified.
The subtle quivering of her hands escalated into small, trembling convulsions that Elena hadn’t seen before and didn’t fully understand.
Nancy’s body was overwhelmed, her stimming no longer soothing her but a sign of rising panic.
“Wait, Nancy?” Elena’s voice was soft but urgent, confusion flooding her. “What’s wrong? We need to go down here.”
Nancy said nothing. Quickly, she turned away from the cellar door and slipped quietly into the shadows of the nearby woods—the path leading to the stream she always loved.
“Nancy, please,” Elena whispered, panic rising. The steady rhythm of Nancy’s humming was gone, replaced once more by those high, sharp notes—her fear vocalized in sound.
Salty darted ahead, weaving between trees and underbrush while Elena scrambled after Nancy, heart pounding.
Behind them, Jim and the men at the farm kept watch, eyes fixed on the approaching SUV. They were unaware that the ladies had not gone down the cellar steps as expected.
The safety of the root cellar faded with every hurried step Elena took deeper into the woods. Whispers of Nancy’s fear, the trembling, the sudden flight—it was all a mystery, but Elena knew one thing for sure: whatever was drawing Nancy away, she had to follow.
Nancy wound through the woods, her humming sharp and high-pitched—the same sound she made when fear took hold. She passed the stream where she loved to walk barefoot, the cool water brushing her toes, then moved on into the field of wildflowers swaying gently in the breeze.
Suddenly, Elena’s breath caught. She realized where Nancy was heading—to her hidden cave. Her safe spot.
Nancy moved quietly through the field of wildflowers until she reached the concealed mouth of the small cave, tucked away beneath a cluster of ancient oaks. The entrance was partially hidden by hanging vines and moss, nature’s own veil that made the place easy to miss.
Elena followed just behind, stepping carefully over roots and stones. Inside, the cave was cool and dim, the damp earth floor softened by layers of fallen leaves and pine needles. It smelled faintly of earth and woodsmoke, a comforting scent in the stillness.
The cave had changed a bit since Elena began caring for Nancy. The first time Nancy had brought her here, it had felt bare and rough—more cave than shelter. But Elena had taken the time since then to make it safer, warmer.
As Nancy moved deeper into the cave, her humming shifted—softening, becoming lower and more even. The sharp edge of fear in her tone began to fade.
Against the far wall, vibrant outdoor porch pillows in blues, reds, and yellows created a cozy nest. Their bright colors stood out vividly against the cave’s natural grays and browns. Elena watched as Nancy’s shoulders gradually loosened; the tension ebbing away as she sank onto the pillows.
Nearby, two large plastic totes rested neatly side by side. One was filled with Nancy’s writing journals, pens, and pencils—her own little arsenal for capturing thoughts, sketches, or memories. The other held essentials: bottles of water, shelf-stable food, and blankets folded with quiet care.
Seeing Nancy relax warmed Elena’s heart, a small beacon of calm amid the uncertainty swirling around them.