Read Online Back To Our Beginning by C. L. Scholey - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: C. L. Scholey
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eerie creak but swung back. The door was heavy and now sweat mixed with drizzle as Tansy peered down. She could make out a set of rickety steps descending into darkness. The hair rose on the back of her neck; the dankness of a rotting smell wafted up to her. Her nose crinkled and she looked around expecting something akin to zombie people approaching. Giving herself a shake, Tansy unzipped her backpack and produced a tiny flashlight. The batteries worked, but after turning it on, the light dull, she realized that wouldn’t be the case much longer.
She took one uneasy step down. The stair held; the rickety board sank a bit under her feet. Another step offered a suspicious groan, nothing more. The third step was missing; Tansy’s short legs were hard-pressed to reach the next. There was no railing to hold onto and she ended up sitting on the second step to reach the fourth. Then again no fifth step, but she reached the bottom and lowered herself to the moist dirt floor.
It became apparent she was in a root cellar; an adjacent door had been attached to the inside of the house but was crushed. She remembered her great-grandmother had owned a house with a root cellar. Her great-grandmother had always been doing down jams and preserves. Tansy’s heart leaped and her search became earnest as she looked throughout the large space. One quick cast of her dying light and, there. On one of the shelves she approached were jars.
Tansy’s legs shook with excitement. She reached a tentative hand outwards as her fingers closed around a Mason jar dark with some filling, she opened it. Delving her baby finger inside and lifting the contents to her nose she sniffed. Tansy’s heart almost burst with joy, she knew that smell; it was blackberry jam. She stuffed her finger into her mouth and made contented sucking noises. She did it again and again, the whole time trying to undue her backpack. There were six jars in all, each containing something different. Tansy wasn’t sure what, it was too dark to see, but she wanted it all. Once all the jars were collected, she hurried her way back to the others.
* * * *
Tansy placed a pair of ratty but fairly clean wet pants over a rope strung near the fire to dry. She shook her head, rubbed her neck then stretched. Afterwards, she stuck her hands as close to the fire as she dared, they were red, chapped and very cold. She didn’t know what to do if they were suddenly stuck in a snowstorm. It was too cold to wash outside without risking pneumonia. They had a little soap left and used the small cast iron pot she brought propped up over four stones and placed over a small cooking fire to heat water to wash their bodies with.
They were likely to get a lot dirtier before warmer weather would return and they could bathe in a lake or stream. Tansy didn’t know how her ancestors could stand to be so dirty. She smelled putrid.
Everyone was sound asleep but her. Everyone for once had gone to bed with a full belly. She had saved a little of the food she had found. Her mind rationalized two things: save the food and ration it. Also, they could die tomorrow so why not just eat it. She compromised; Tansy let them eat what they wanted, knowing their bellies had shrunk and they wouldn’t be able to finish it all. She was right; two jars of homemade peaches were left.
After hanging the laundry in their tight quarters, Tansy thought hard. Perhaps the root cellar wasn’t just a fluke or a lucky find. Maybe because it was built under the frost line it was a bit safer. The cave they were in was also a lucky find. It was chance they stumbled onto this one. They couldn’t stay here, they had to keep moving. They would be safe at the mines; she knew that. Her mind wouldn’t even consider that they wouldn’t.
Tansy wondered about people, or lack thereof. She knew people must be hiding, they heard the voices and cries of others when they slept in the subway, but were too terrified to approach them. They’d seen
She took one uneasy step down. The stair held; the rickety board sank a bit under her feet. Another step offered a suspicious groan, nothing more. The third step was missing; Tansy’s short legs were hard-pressed to reach the next. There was no railing to hold onto and she ended up sitting on the second step to reach the fourth. Then again no fifth step, but she reached the bottom and lowered herself to the moist dirt floor.
It became apparent she was in a root cellar; an adjacent door had been attached to the inside of the house but was crushed. She remembered her great-grandmother had owned a house with a root cellar. Her great-grandmother had always been doing down jams and preserves. Tansy’s heart leaped and her search became earnest as she looked throughout the large space. One quick cast of her dying light and, there. On one of the shelves she approached were jars.
Tansy’s legs shook with excitement. She reached a tentative hand outwards as her fingers closed around a Mason jar dark with some filling, she opened it. Delving her baby finger inside and lifting the contents to her nose she sniffed. Tansy’s heart almost burst with joy, she knew that smell; it was blackberry jam. She stuffed her finger into her mouth and made contented sucking noises. She did it again and again, the whole time trying to undue her backpack. There were six jars in all, each containing something different. Tansy wasn’t sure what, it was too dark to see, but she wanted it all. Once all the jars were collected, she hurried her way back to the others.
* * * *
Tansy placed a pair of ratty but fairly clean wet pants over a rope strung near the fire to dry. She shook her head, rubbed her neck then stretched. Afterwards, she stuck her hands as close to the fire as she dared, they were red, chapped and very cold. She didn’t know what to do if they were suddenly stuck in a snowstorm. It was too cold to wash outside without risking pneumonia. They had a little soap left and used the small cast iron pot she brought propped up over four stones and placed over a small cooking fire to heat water to wash their bodies with.
They were likely to get a lot dirtier before warmer weather would return and they could bathe in a lake or stream. Tansy didn’t know how her ancestors could stand to be so dirty. She smelled putrid.
Everyone was sound asleep but her. Everyone for once had gone to bed with a full belly. She had saved a little of the food she had found. Her mind rationalized two things: save the food and ration it. Also, they could die tomorrow so why not just eat it. She compromised; Tansy let them eat what they wanted, knowing their bellies had shrunk and they wouldn’t be able to finish it all. She was right; two jars of homemade peaches were left.
After hanging the laundry in their tight quarters, Tansy thought hard. Perhaps the root cellar wasn’t just a fluke or a lucky find. Maybe because it was built under the frost line it was a bit safer. The cave they were in was also a lucky find. It was chance they stumbled onto this one. They couldn’t stay here, they had to keep moving. They would be safe at the mines; she knew that. Her mind wouldn’t even consider that they wouldn’t.
Tansy wondered about people, or lack thereof. She knew people must be hiding, they heard the voices and cries of others when they slept in the subway, but were too terrified to approach them. They’d seen
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