Page 28 of Landon (In Safe Hands)
Thewestern sky is ominous and full of lightning. “I’m going home. Thanks for theheads up.” I usually wouldn’t pay any attention to severe storms, but Zoe isalone at my house. I’ve never shown her the basement and I don’t think there’sa siren in my neighborhood to warn her what’s coming. The call drops and Ican’t get a signal. A tower must’ve went down.
Thedrive home is an adventure as the storm picks up. Trees and power lines toppleinto the road thanks to the strong winds. Torrential rain falls in sheets andquarter size hail pelts me while I run to my front door.
“Zoe!”I call, brushing water from my eyes and flipping on the T.V.
“Yeah?”She rounds the corner, confusion wrinkling her forehead. The National WeatherService breaks into programming with a tornado warning for our county, and whenit’s tossed back to the local meteorologist, he adds, “I repeat, there are twoconfirmed tornadoes on the ground. If you’re in Marion County, take shelterimmediately. If you don’t have a basement, move to the innermost room and…”
Beforehe can finish, I grab Zoe’s hand and drag her toward the kitchen. “We need toget to the basement.”
Shecomes along without an argument, and I usher her to the basement entrance. Theback half of the kitchen and the basement were added on after the house wasbuilt. Instead of a regular basement door, there’s an access hatch in the floorof the pantry.
Zoestands back while I pull it open, then follows me down the narrow stairs. WhenI flip on the light, she giggles. “Really? Another man cave?”
“Ididn’t build this one. My uncle did. Stay put. I’ll be right back.”
Iignore her protests and dart back upstairs to gather a few supplies. Who knowshow long the storm will last? There are a couple battery operated lanterns onthe front closet floor and a box of candles and matches on the shelf. Thankyou, Uncle Larry.
Zoeis perched on the edge of the sofa when I return. “This is the biggest basementI’ve ever seen,” she remarks. “I notice you’ve cleaned down here.”
“It’snice isn’t it? Jeremy loves to play pool so we hang out here sometimes.” Igesture to the pool table in the center of the room. A large sofa rests againstone wall and a full size refrigerator stands in the corner. Soft brown carpetblankets the floor.
“Yeah,not exactly the spidery dungeon I thought you were leading me into.” She peeksthrough the bathroom door before sitting on the sofa. “You even have a bathroomdown here.”
“Sotrusting,” I tease, sitting beside her. She takes a deep breath and blinks afew times, a frown on her face. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,just a little light headed.”
Ifeel it too, a faint dizziness. “Shit. Come on.” I grab her hand. “It’s thedrop in air pressure. It’s coming.”
Fearwidens her eyes. “A tornado?”
“Yeah,innermost wall,” I order and have her kneel against it. I crouch behind her andcover her body with mine. There are no windows to break, but who knows whatmight fly around if the hatch doesn’t hold. She’s so tiny, I don’t want her toget hurt.
“Landon,”she whimpers when a dull roar reaches our ears.
“We’llbe okay.” I have no idea if that’s true, but what else can I say?
Theroar grows deafening, punctuated by terrifying sounds of breaking glass andshrieking wood. The electricity goes, leaving us in a pitch dark nightmare. Zoetrembles beneath me, and I squeeze her tighter, murmuring comforting words inher ear, though I doubt she can hear me.
Afterwhat feels like an eternity, but was probably less than a minute, the roar fades,leaving only the sound of rain and our anxious breaths. Her hands grasp at mewhen I attempt to stand. “It’s over. I’m just going to grab a lantern. Stayright there.”
“Don’tleave me down here.”
“No,sweetheart.” She’s terrified. The quicker we can get some light and check outthe damage, the better. Slowly, I feel my way to the table where I left thesupplies. The battery operated lanterns are surprisingly bright. With one oneach side of the room, they push back the darkness.
Zoegets to her feet and moves to the couch, and I sit beside her, running my handdown her back. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”Her voice is shaky.
“Let’sgo see the damage.” She takes my hand, and I grab a lantern before we head upthe stairs.
“I’mkind of scared you’re going to open the door and see the sky,” she confesses.
“We’resafe. That’s what matters. I can rebuild.” My first push on the trap dooralerts me we’re in trouble. It won’t budge. No matter how hard I shove, it onlyopens about an inch. Water drips through the gap. Shit. That can’t be a goodsign. Zoe’s stargazing fear may not be far off.
Hervoice is small and fearful. “Are we trapped?”
Sighing,I sit on the step and pull her down beside me. “Looks like it.”
