How far did she get? I didn’t want to go looking for her; I would never enter that forest again. Just like she asked in her letter, I wanted to remember her healthy and happy. I couldn’t bear to exchange that image with another mutilated, rotting body.
Getting Darlene out was an experience in and of itself. She was stone cold, rigid and glossy, covered with small blisters. I wrapped her in a sheet so that Ruby wouldn’t see the body if she glanced up from the TV. Carrying her out was like moving a statue or an extremely large, heavy ironing board.
But even that had nothing on Hugh. He was bloated to twice his size, there was dry blood by his nose and mouth, and his skin was slightly green. Unlike his wife, his body was soft and pliable like plasticine, though manipulating it was just as difficult, probably because of how unpleasant it was. The image of his rotting, reeking body had burned itself on my mind and covering it with a sheet to hide the monstrosity didn’t help hiding it from my mind.
Resting both of them into the grave behind a big tree was a huge relief. The most difficult part was behind me, all that was left was putting all the soil back in its place. Darlene’s dog watched me the whole time, whining. I added feeding him on my mental to do list.
Sweaty and exhausted, I still had things to do. I brushed the dirt off and went back to the living room.
“I have an important job for you,” I said and my granddaughter immediately stood to attention, straight as a ruler. “I need to go investigate something and I need someone to stand guard and watch my back. Do you think you can do it?”
She nodded eagerly.
I took all the books out of the shelves again and scraped off the paint sticking the panel to the wall. After that I just had to kick it a few times and it sprang out of its place and hit the floor. I switched on a torch from the kitchen and looked down the corridor behind the bookcase.
Just as I’d expected, it was low and narrow, and went steeply down. After about ten steps there was a platform and behind it a sturdy door. I shivered. If it had been another person trying to fit into that slit and investigate, I’d be screaming at them to stop. Surely someone was waiting on the other side with a knife! How could this place be a safe shelter for us, when it scared me to death?
But what choice did I have? I took off the shelf in the middle of the entrance and turned to Ruby.
“I’ll go in. I’ll just have a look around and come right back. Can you keep an eye out for things here and let me know if something happens?”
She put a hand to her forehead and saluted. Connie must have taught her that. I wanted to laugh at the gesture, but the current atmosphere wouldn’t let me.
One last bit of instructions… “When I call Marco, you’ll answer Polo, ok?”
“Why?”
“So that I know that you’re alright.”
“But I’m the one who’s guarding you,” she replied.
She made me smile after all.
“You’re right about that, Marco.”
“Polo!” she blurted out and her eyes were shining.
I took a deep breath and slowly squeezed into the dark corridor. I ignored the feeling of claustrophobia, ran down the stairs and stepped towards the door. It was locked, but that was no surprise. I took out the two brass keys Connie had left me in her letter, and one of them fit.
As soon as I opened the door, I understood what Constance meant when she assured me not to worry about dark spaces. There were several round windows in the ceiling, letting in so much light that the room didn’t feel like a basement at all. How was that possible? I looked up frowning and wondered where the windows were placed. Through walls or supporting beams? I couldn’t think of any other explanation. How else would they have hidden the presence of the shelter? I hadn’t paid much attention to the roof of the farmhouse, there hadn’t been any reason to, but I remembered that it was more flat than slanted. When you stood on the ground, you couldn’t quite see it, and nobody standing on a far away hill would think to look for small roof windows. Hypothetically.
“Marco!”
“Polo!”
The room was quite spacious, about five by ten meters, fitted with everything a house would include. A kitchenette with a stove and a hood, a dining area with a square table and two chairs. A bunk bed, sofa, wardrobes and shelves. A toilet and a bathtub.
On one side there were two more doors. One was locked, and neither of the brass keys opened it. I let it be for now and opened the other one, which wasn’t locked. It led to a huge pantry. On the ground and on shelves were water containers, cans of fruit and vegetables, flour, packets of pasta and rice. All the provisions you’ll need.
If I ignored the fact that all of this was underground, I would almost feel like I was in some weekend cottage. But there were no windows on the sides, and that made me think of a tomb or a prison. This was where Ruby and I were supposed to live for half a year?
“Polo, Polo, Polo!” Ruby was calling out, her voice slightly hysterical.
“I’m coming!” I called back. I’d seen enough.
On my way out I noticed the calendar Connie was writing about. It was conveniently turned on the current month, but none of the days were marked. When are we supposed to move down here? Connie and her bloody Collective were so stubborn and specific about everything, but they left this to us?
Ruby looked relieved when I crawled out. Once again I felt
