“It’s just me,” George said softly. “I know this place like the back of my hand. Let me guide you.”
“Okay,” she replied.
She allowed him to guide her deeper into the cellar, moving away from the hatch, but as she moved, she stepped carefully. After about ten steps, her shoulder brushed a hard edge, and she reached up to feel it. A wooden rack of some kind with many empty spaces. Another few steps, and she bumped against a stone wall, but George continued drawing her deeper. Eventually, he put his hand against her shoulder and gently pushed her into what seemed like a narrow alcove. Selene felt another wooden rack, then stone walls on three sides.
“Duck down,” he said, close to her ear. “They won’t be able to see us in here unless they decide to step past the rack.”
“What is this space?” she asked.
“Just a little storage area in the back corner,” he replied. “I have a lot of nooks and crannies down here. I keep a lot of stuff in out of the way places. Rod Smith didn’t get all of my wine. Ha!”
“Surely, they won’t—”
She choked on her words as a loud rattling sound filled the cellar. She realized it was the hatch. Someone had grabbed it violently and opened it, causing it to bang against the wall. Then a light shone into the darkness, revealing the vast cellar before her. As George had said, they were in a small space behind one of the wooden racks, with only a few gaps to see through. The cellar itself was roughly rectangular with stone walls on four sides, various alcoves here and there, and a series of stone pillars running down the middle. Wine racks lined all of the walls. Most of them were empty, but she spied a few bottles here and there.
The light came from a small LED flashlight shining along the floor beyond the pillars. As Selene pressed herself against the wall, George huddled behind her. She felt her heartbeat throbbing in her neck as she heard the sound of boots on the dusty stone floor—first one pair, then a second. Their breathing was deep and harsh.
“Ah, man, it’s empty,” one of them said. “Look at all those wine racks, and nothing! What a waste. I thought this was a winery.”
The sound of his voice sent a shiver down Selene’s spine. A violent man. A thug. Yes, she knew their type all too well. The tightness in every word that promised brutality. Selene felt old fears smothering her, pressing in on every side, and she reached back, fumbling around in the dark until George grabbed her hand. She clamped down tight, needing the human contact, needing the reassurance that she wasn’t alone.
She saw the first man now as he passed between two of the pillars. He was huge, dressed all in black, with thick-soled boots and a rifle in his hands. He had a small LED flashlight stuck between the fingers of his left hand, and he shone it ahead of him as he crossed the room.
“No, it’s not all empty,” said a second man. A reedy voice, thin and breathless, but still filled with the promise of violence. “Right there, look. There’s a bottle toward the back.”
The first soldier rushed forward, the light wobbling back and forth. As it did, for one second, it shone through the rack directly in front of Selene, flooding their tiny alcove with light. She realized they weren’t as well hidden as she’d thought. The rack in front of them was full of holes, and the alcove wasn’t that deep. She tried to make herself even smaller, curling into a tight little ball, still clutching George’s hand for dear life.
“It’s an old vintage,” the first soldier said. The bottle made a soft sighing sound as he pulled it off the rack. Selene saw him hold it up and shine the flashlight at it, revealing dark glass and darker wine inside. The soldier put his rifle over his shoulder and tucked the bottle in the crook of his arm. She saw his face clearly now. He had a head like an anvil, a face that looked like it had been smashed flat with a sledgehammer.
“There are more of them,” the second soldier said. She only saw an arm and leg as he gestured through pillars, pointing across the room. “Look over there.”
Selene realized he was pointing at the wine rack in front of the alcove, and she held her breath, ducking her head and narrowing her eyes.
“Let’s get them all,” the first soldier said. “You know how long it’s been since I’ve had wine, real wine? It’s like finding a cache of diamonds, except who wants a cache of diamonds these days?”
“Hey, that kind of stuff still has value,” the second soldier said. “I’d take a cache of diamonds.”
Through the lowest gap in the wine rack, Selene saw the boots of the first soldier approaching. The LED light shone brightly, shifting back and forth through the gaps. Suddenly, he was there, right there, less than two feet away, separated from George and Selene only by the old wine rack. She heard the sound of a bottle being picked up, glass against wood, heard his fingers moving position as he turned it back and forth.
“This is good stuff,” he said.
The second soldier joined him. She saw two pairs of boots now directly in front of her. The men grew quiet, too quiet, all sounds ceasing except their deep breathing. The light was shining down through the gaps right into the alcove.
Do they see us? Selene wondered, her heart pounding so fiercely now that she felt light-headed. They must see us. What do we do? What do we say to
