Page 7 of Organized Chaos

“I thought you said there wasn’t another way out?” She called back at Phillip.

“There isn’t.”

She scoffed. “Then where do these stairs go?”

“Into the laundry room.” Phillip paused. “Or they would if you could reach them. They’re broken.”

Sarah kept going. No way she’d take his word for it, not after how he’d acted today. Her toe hit a solid structure, sending out a hollow sound. She put her hands down and felt her way across a step, then another higher up.

Anticipation bubbled into near euphoria. She was getting out of here. She clambered onto the step and began to climb. One step. Two. Three. She used her hands to feel for the next step and followed with her feet.

At the fifth step, her hands met empty air and she fell forward. Her feet slipped between the slats of the lower steps and her stomach slammed into the last slat. Her head and shoulders dangled into empty space and a scream built in her throat.

Phillip’s running steps brought him beneath her within seconds. He peered up at her, his mouth twisted in a mixture of amusement and concern. “You seriously didn’t believe me?”

She groaned and shimmied back to her feet. “I’m not giving up. There’s a way out of here.”

Phillip shook his head and put his hands on his hips. “Not that way.” He jerked his head straight up. “The staircase is broken. There’s over a six-foot gap between you and the next step. And even if you made it to the next section, the door hasbeen nailed shut. And I don’t know if the steps higher up would even hold if you stood on them.”

“You could’ve told me that earlier.” She brushed dirt from her legs, feeling the grit transfer from the denim overalls to her hands. She grimaced and rubbed her palms together.

Phillip locked eyes with her, an eerie mixture of light and shadow dappling his face. “Why? You wouldn’t believe me.”

True. Still…

“Try not to get yourself killed.” He took a step back. “If you get hurt down here, it won’t be my fault. You might think I’m some crazy man intent to cause you harm. But I’m just the poor schmuck stuck down here with you.”

How dare he turn this around and make it her fault.

Sarah planted her hands on her hips and stared down at him. “Then get us out of here, if you’re so smart.” Her balance wavered as the steps groaned and shifted.

Phillip held out a hand. “Get down from there first.”

Sarah complied only because it made sense. Not because he looked like he might be worried about her.

She reconsidered her whole stance on Phillip. Down here, where she had time to think instead of run away, she realized he might be a decent guy. No way to know for sure, though, and she had enough things go wrong in her life to keep her leery.

Phillip took her hand and walked her back down the staircase. His warm palm fit against hers and sent a rash of goosebumps breaking out across her arms. Or maybe that was the chill from the cellar. Yeah, definitely nothing to do with Phillip.

Sarah shook her head at herself. She was such a walking contradiction.

He released her hand, and she tried to be grateful for the loss of contact. The sudden, sharp pain of panic that flared in her chest argued with her. For a minute, she was glad that Phillipwas down here with her. What if she’d been alone? Cold washed down her spine. No one would come looking for her out here.

No one knew where she’d gone adventuring today. She’d disappear, and no one would know where to start the search.

She’d found a downside to her spontaneous personality. A personality that many called careless, but she preferred to think of as inspired by chance.

Phillip made a disgruntled noise that pulled Sarah’s attention back to him. He stood in what looked like the center of the cellar, beneath the hole they’d created when they fell. His phone shone a bluish light over his face as he held it up and moved in a slow circle.

Her heart skipped. Details stood out to her now that she’d not seen before. More shelves than she thought possible ran the length of the room. It must be twenty feet long and almost that wide. It was a wonder she’d not knocked down more jars when she stumbled around. They were everywhere. Jars with reddish-black lumps in them on the top shelves. Yellowed jars lower down with rusted rims.

From the scowl Phillip wore, his phone offered no help. He swatted the air.

Sarah staggered back a step. “Don’t tell me there are spiders down here.”

He shot her a look. “Okay. I won’t tell you.”

“Phillip.” She scooted closer to him and peered at his phone screen. “No signal?”

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