She couldn’t let them kill Elna’s father. The guilt would chase her into her next life. No, somehow she had to save him. It seemed the only possible option was to surrender. If they were taken prisoner, at least there was a chance the Marines might rescue them later.
Do it now, she told herself. Before it’s too late. If they find you first, they might shoot instinctively.
Selene use a meditation technique to calm herself, narrowing her thoughts inwardly, focusing on her breathing, becoming aware of her own body. As she did, she felt her racing heart settle, felt the fear diminishing like dampened flames. Gradually, she got a hold of herself.
Okay, do it now, she told herself. Calmly announce your presence and surrender.
But then she heard boots moving back across the room, the light turning away from her, shining along the walls and back toward the hatch. The two soldiers were laughing, wine bottles rattling in their arms. Then they were going up the stairs, and the deep darkness returned to the cellar. The hatch swung shut with a bang and a whoosh of air that she felt all the way across the room. A profound stillness and quiet gradually filled the cellar.
Selene’s tenuous calm passed like a fleeting thought, and she felt utterly weak. She leaned against the wall beside her and took deep breaths.
Did I almost just surrender? Was I out of my mind?
“I guess they’re gone,” George said quietly.
“Oh, gosh, Pop, they were right in front of us,” Selene said. She could barely get the words out. “I could have reached out and grabbed their boots. How did they not see us?”
“I guess the wine got all their attention,” George replied. She felt him crawl past her, heard him bump against the wine rack. “It’s a darn good thing I had a few bottles left, but I hate that they took ’em.”
“What do we do?” Selene said. “They’re searching the guesthouse. We can’t stay here, Pop. Eventually, they’ll come back down to look for more wine.”
She heard a sudden loud crash from the kitchen, as if someone had just taken a whole drawer full of silverware and dumped it on the ground. This was followed by the muffled sound of raised voices. Strangely, the sound didn’t seem to be coming from the direction of the hatch but somewhere off to the right along the wall. Selene dared to crawl out of the alcove and move toward it.
“What are they arguing about, I wonder,” she said.
When she reached what seemed to be the source of the sound, she reached out and felt cold metal between two wine racks. After feeling around, she realized it was some kind of air vent set low on the stone wall. The vent was like the tinny speaker of an old phonograph, giving the voices upstairs a surreal quality. Selene made out one voice above all, a booming voice sharp as the blade of a filleting knife.
“I want status reports from every team,” he said. “Have you checked every room in this house? I mean, closets, cupboards, toilet tanks, everything!”
“Yes, sir, Commander Tucker,” came another voice. She thought it was the voice of the first soldier. “We all spread out as soon as we got inside. Ardmore and I went down into the wine cellar.”
“Yeah, I see that,” the commander replied, “and you were fighting over those bottles when I walked in here. If I hear any more fighting about that wine, I’ll smash the bottles over your heads. Am I clear?”
“Yes, sir,” said multiple voices.
“Did you find anything down there besides these bottles?” the commander asked. “Was the tunnel entrance down there?”
“No, sir, definitely not,” the first soldier replied, the one Selene thought of as Anvil Head. “We walked around the whole thing. Not much down there.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you looked real close,” the commander said, “especially after you found the wine.”
Even as the commander was speaking, Selene heard what sounded like the popping of corks, the ringing of glasses, suppressed laughter.
“Well, they’re drinking now,” she said. “I guess that’ll keep them busy for a little while.”
“Depends on how fast they can drain those bottles,” George replied. “I’d guess it won’t take long. We have to get out of here.”
“They said something about a tunnel,” Selene said. “Do you have any idea what they’re talking about.”
George was quiet for a second, then he grunted. “Actually, now that I think about it, there was some sort of tunnel system on the original property plans. I’m guessing something to do with the original Army base on the island. But I don’t remember it leading to the wine cellar. Seems like it was down the island by the old base.”
“There’s not a secret closet or anything down here?” Selene asked. “I hate to be out in the open like this. The next time, they might see us.”
George got quiet again. “There is this one place. It’s like stairs or something, but it doesn’t lead anywhere. Maybe it connected to the tunnel system at one time but got blocked off. I don’t know. Bear in mind, this cellar space was here before I built the guesthouse. It wasn’t a wine cellar then. I converted it. Anyway, there’s a weird little closet. I use it for storage space, but it doesn’t lead anywhere.”
“Does it have a door?” she asked.
“Even better,” he said. “It’s behind a wine rack. You can’t see the thing unless you know where to look. Come toward me. I’ll lead you there.”
She moved toward the sound of his voice in an awkward duck walk, her hands thrust out before her. He found her wrist again and guided her toward the back of the room. She’d gone maybe ten paces when he came to a stop. Then she heard him fumbling around in the dark. It sounded like his hands were sliding over wood.
“What is it, George?” she asked.
“Looking for the release lever,” he said. “It’s been a long time since I
