Page 13 of Organized Chaos

“Here.” He patted the box he’d vacated. “Sit on mine. I know it won’t collapse on you.”

She arched an eyebrow, but moved to take his spot while he poked and prodded a few others until he found one that would hold his weight. He settled gingerly on the edge while Sarah crossed her ankle over the opposite knee and began bouncing her foot up and down.

His stomach grumbled hard enough that he winced. Time for a distraction. They’d been down here for five hours, missing lunch and with no dinner in sight. “I’m sure my dad will come looking for me eventually.”

“How will he know to look for you here?” Her foot jigged faster. “He didn’t know you were coming here, or he would’ve told you about me.”

Right. There was that little problem. Dad would likely assume that Phillip was eating at home when he didn’t arrive at the main house. He’d call, and when Phillip didn’t answer, he’d shrug it off.

Phillip’s foot bounced on the dirt floor. He rubbed his knee and stilled the movement.

Sarah smirked at him when his foot kept moving. “Maybe he’ll see my car and come to investigate.”

He hated to squash the hopefulness in her voice. Should he bother telling her that her car wasn’t visible from the main house? His dad wouldn’t think to come looking for her if he didn’t see her leave. He’d assume she slipped past while he worked in the barn.

His foot bounced faster, and he stopped trying to calm the erratic beat of his heel on dirt. “If he’s not found us by morning, we’ll figure out a way to climb out.”

“You could try tossing me back through the hole.” Sarah pointed at the gaping wound in the floor where jagged pieces of wood waited for anyone to come near.

Phillip shook his head. “Even if I could throw you up there, I don’t know that the floor would hold.”

She huffed but didn’t immediately contradict him.

Good. Maybe they’d make progress now that she’d calmed down. They needed logical solutions that didn’t put them in extreme danger.

The darkness around them deepened. Phillip glanced over his shoulder. The beam of sunlight coming through the crack in the doors turned a russet gold. Soon there would be no light at all.

He brushed his hands together and stood. “Let’s go through these boxes. Look for anything that will burn.”

“We can’t set this place on fire.” Sarah’s objection came out as a squeak.

He fought the urge to laugh. “We’re not setting it on fire. Night’s falling, and it’s about to get really cold, really fast. We’ll make a small fire here, where the smoke can go up through the hole in the floor.”

“Any chance someone will see the smoke?”

Phillip cracked open the nearest box and frowned at the odd assortment of old clothes. “Not likely. The fire will be too small, and the smoke will dissipate before it’s high enough for anyone to see. Plus, they’d have to be looking for it.” He shook his head at Sarah. “And before you ask, no, we’re not setting the house on fire. We’d burn up before anyone came to save us.”

“I wasn’t going to suggest that.” She grumbled and popped open a box. “What about these?” She grabbed a handful of papers and shoved them at him.

“That’ll work.” He flipped through the stack. Old ranch ledgers from decades ago. No one needed those anymore. “Helpme crumple a bunch of these.” He passed Sarah part of the stack and began crushing papers into balls.

“We can combine some of these boxes and use the cardboard too.” Sarah followed his example and added her papers to the small pile he’d made at his feet. “And the wood from the stairs.” She motioned at the heap of rotted wood where the stairs had collapsed.

The memory of her hanging from the stairs threatened to overwhelm him. He’d never been more frightened in his life. And for a complete stranger who was certain that he wanted to put pieces of her into jars as keepsakes. The absurdity of it all hit Phillip. He’d come to the house to confront a strange woman who he’d thought was squatting on the property and now he was trapped with that woman.

And guess what they were doing. They were holed up in the cellar trying to start a fire in an enclosed space like a couple of homeless people.

“Any chance there’s something edible down here?” Sarah rubbed her stomach. “I’m starving.”

“I wouldn’t risk it.” Phillip motioned at the shelves behind Sarah. “Those are the freshest jars in this whole place. I was five the year Granny brought them down.”

Sarah’s nose wrinkled. “Yeah, I see your point. What about water?”

Phillip racked his brain but came up empty. “I don’t remember them ever putting anything down here but canned food. Dad and I moved all these boxes after Granddad passed.” He crumpled another paper and dropped it. “That’s enough for now. Let’s see if I can get a spark.”

What could he use? Not like he carried matches in his pockets. Or a lighter. Would his grandparents have kept something on the shelves? They’d never bothered getting electricity put in the cellar. Waste of money, they’d said. Not thatit would matter now since Dad cut the electricity off a couple years ago when it became apparent that no one was going to take over the old place.

“A little help here, Lord?” Phillip moved to the nearest set of shelves and ran his hands along the smooth wood. The light was fading fast. Already he had trouble seeing from one shelf to the next. A few more minutes and the whole place would be pitch black.

---