Page 9 of Organized Chaos

She’d made it all these years without his help.

Phillip returned to his boxes and sat with his forearms on his thighs and fingers knotted together between his knees. If she was an artist, she’d paint him like this and call itMan Who Thinks Too Much.

Her pulse steadied. She considered the room again but nothing new stood out. Same shelves and jars and rotten fruit aroma.

Curiosity tugged and Sarah followed it back to the cellar doors. She pressed her eye to the thin crack. The sun had been high overhead when she entered the house. Now it seemed to be moving toward the trees as afternoon approached.

What if they were stuck here all night?

Or longer?

She loved adventure and navigating unusual circumstances, but she’d never been trapped in an abandoned cellar before. She found she didn’t care for the situation. Not one bit.

Her stomach cramped with the first pangs of hunger. Even being trapped and under extreme stress couldn’t ruin her appetite. She wrinkled her nose at the shelves. No way they’d find anything to eat down here, and she’d already eaten all the granola bars she usually kept stashed in her bag.

She made a mental note to keep her bag better stocked once she got out of here.

CHAPTER FOUR

Time had a tendency to lose all meaning when trapped in a cellar with a stranger. Sarah drummed her fingers along her thigh and shifted her weight side to side. She’d eventually given in and taken a seat. The few minutes of quiet reflection were enough to make her want to jump up and start digging through the shelves for a way out.

At this point, she’d take a pair of spoons and put herself to work attacking the dirt wall in the back corner. She stood and headed toward the darkness where no amount of night vision could penetrate. How many spiders waited to drop down the back of her shirt? Her body revolted against further forward movement. She couldn’t do it. Not without light to chase away the creepy crawlies.

She scrubbed her hands down her overalls, drying the sweat brought on by the sudden rush of fear. “I’m going to try the doors again.” She informed Phillip out of courtesy.

He’d been sitting on the stack of boxes without moving long enough that he might become permanently attached. “It’s not going to open.” His voice carried loud and clear, as did the doubt.

Sarah let her silence speak for her as she made her way once again to the cellar doors. The thick chain hadn’t moved and no amount of pushing and pulling caused the wood to shift. “Put your back into it.” She cheered herself on since Phillip seemed determined to drag the adventure through the mud.

Her shoulder hit the thick door and she heaved upward with all her strength. A creak sounded from the left and a burst of excitement shot through her.

Phillip joined her efforts, his arms stretched on either side of her. He strained alongside her, his face twisted in a grimace. Dirt streaked his left shoulder and tracked down his side where he’d leaned on one of the shelves.

Her legs gave out under her, and she collapsed onto her hands and knees.

Phillip grunted one last time and then gave up. He backed away, rubbing his palms together and frowning.

Laughter bubbled up. Sarah sat back on her heels and let the giggles escape. They came in short, sharp bursts that tickled the back of her throat and shook her shoulders.

Phillip gave her a look that said he worried for her sanity.

She held up a hand and waved it back and forth. Any attempt at an explanation disappeared at the disgruntled sound that left his mouth. Her laughter erupted in loud peals that fled into the dark corners and lifted her spirits. She’d always loved laughter. Joy made every situation better. She clutched her sides and fell over while curling into a ball.

“You’ve lost it.” Phillip dropped to a knee and reached out. His fingertips brushed her forehead. “Shock, maybe. Can’t be dehydration or starvation.”

His worry forced her to take deep, gasping breaths, and push upright. She used the backs of her hands to swipe tears from her cheeks. A series of deep hiccups silenced the remaining laughter.“I’m fine.” She brushed off his concern and sat cross-legged on the dirt floor.

“You’ve been trapped in a cellar for hours, and you’re laughing. That’s not normal.” He remained crouched beside her with nothing but the balls of his feet on the ground.

Sarah bit her lip. She shouldn’t do it. It was immature. Childish. She put a hand on his shoulder and pushed.

Phillip fell backward and landed on his backside with an oomph. His arms went out to either side and gripped the shelves before he toppled all the way onto his back.

Glass rattled. Several jars tipped over and rolled toward Phillip.

“Oh no.” Sarah covered her mouth with both hands when one jar teetered on the edge.

Phillip threw himself forward and to the right. The jar hit the tipping point and crashed in the spot Phillip had vacated. He scowled at Sarah and shoved to his feet. “Hope that made you feel better.”

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