The Hayloft: a 1950s Mystery Page 20

  “How do you communicate with the outside world?” Ed asked, before I had a chance to.

  “We’ve ordered a special radio that should work when we hold it near the ventilation opening. And we can send up an antenna. We expect to receive it within a couple of weeks.”

  A few minutes were all that most of us could stand being inside the shelter. We soon filed out, and Veronica closed the door. She locked the padlock and said, “Did anybody see what happened to the key? I thought I left it in the lock.”

  Nobody answered, and she said, “That’s okay. It will turn up. And we have another one in the house.”

  ***

  It was fun to hobnob with students who were smarter than average. I found myself having animated conversations with a number of boys and girls. Time passed swiftly, and before I knew it, most of the people had left, including Dr. Graves and Barney. Only a few of us remained, in a small group, which included our hostess, Veronica.

  Veronica’s mother called to her from the house. Veronica said, “I have to go. We’re driving to Canada tonight, and we’re about to leave. I guess the party’s over.”

  We said our thank-yous and good-byes and headed for our cars. Ed and I got into my car, and we drove away.

  We had gone about ten miles when Ed said, “Shit. I left my jacket there.”

  “Your jacket?” I glanced at him. He was wearing a sweater, just as he had been most of the day. I did vaguely remember that he had started out with a jacket.

  “I took it off when it warmed up this afternoon. It’s sitting on one of the tables. Can we go back and get it?”

  I wasn’t particularly anxious to add twenty miles to the trip, especially since it was approaching late afternoon, but I didn’t see any alternative. If the jacket hadn’t already been picked up, it would sit there at least until Veronica’s family came back tomorrow evening. Or it might be stolen, and Ed couldn’t afford that.

  I reluctantly turned the car around and headed back to the estate. When we arrived fifteen minutes later, everybody had left, including Veronica and her family. There were no cars in sight. I stopped the car in the long, circular driveway, intending to wait while Ed went and retrieved his jacket.

  “Come with me,” he said. “In case I have to look for it.”

  Ed was beginning to get on my nerves, but I turned off the engine and got out of the car. I followed him down the sloping lawn toward the picnic tables and the bomb shelter. The jacket was right where he had predicted it would be, sitting on the bench seat of one of the tables. I was relieved. I’d still get back to the farm in time for dinner.

  Ed put on the jacket and wandered over to the door of the bomb shelter. He had his back to me, but he appeared to be fiddling with the door.

  “Come on,” I said, walking over to him. “We’ve got to get going.”

  “Look,” he said. “It’s unlocked.”

  He pushed against the door of the shelter, and it swung inward. I distinctly remembered that Veronica had locked it when we came out. What the hell was going on? Ed disappeared into the shelter. I was getting really irritated. I had to retrieve him and get on the road. I went to the doorway of the shelter and peered inside, but I didn’t see him in the dark.

  “Ed,” I called. No response. I walked into the shelter, trying to adjust my eyes to the dim light that was coming through the doorway. I didn’t see him immediately, so I walked a few feet farther inside and called his name again.

  There was a noise behind me. I turned around to see Ed coming out from behind the open door. Several quick steps took him outside, and he pulled the door closed after him. The complete darkness of the shelter returned and with it my feeling of disorientation.

  I stumbled in the direction where the door had been a moment ago and found it with my hands. I felt for a doorknob. There was none.

  “Ed,” I called. “Open the damn door.”

  No answer. My frantic hand found the hasp that was used to lock the door from the inside. I pulled on it, but the door wouldn’t budge. Ed had locked it from the outside.

  This time I screamed. “This isn’t funny. Open the door.”

  “No, I guess it’s not funny to you,” Ed’s muffled voice shouted from the other side of the door. “But I’m having a jolly good laugh out of it.”

  “Okay, you’ve had your joke. Now open the damn door, so that we can get home in time for dinner.”

  “You haven’t figured it out yet, have you? You’re staying here.”

  He had completely lost his mind. “Look, if you open the door right now, I won’t say anything to anybody. We’ll treat it as a joke.”

  “It’s not a joke, Gary. Let me give you a synopsis of what’s going to happen. You’re staying here, and I’m going to drive your car home. You thoughtfully left your keys in the ignition. I’m going to call Cousin Dorothy and tell her you’re sleeping at my house tonight, so she won’t worry about you.”

  “Your parents will know I’m not there.”

  “I’m going to tell them you drove to the farm and then lent me your car. I’ll figure out a reason. Then in the morning, I’m going to drive your car to the farm.”

  “My family is coming to the farm for Sunday dinner.”

  “Precisely. I need them at the farm to execute my plan. And by the way, when I’m through with them, I’m coming back for you. With Ralph’s rifle. There’s an old dumpsite near our house. Your body will never be found.”

  “You won’t get away with this.”

  “Aw, I thought you were a writer. Can’t you come up with something better than that old cliché? Well, maybe I’ll write the story someday. You see, when I get my share of the royalties from the gas wells on the farm, I will be a man of leisure, and I’ll have time to write.”

  “I don’t know what your plan is, but it’s crazy. If you open the door now, I won’t talk about it.”

  “You’re too dangerous, Gary. I’ve got it all worked out. Enjoy your night in the bomb shelter. At least you’ll be safe from nuclear attack.”

  I heard muffled, manic laughter and then nothing. I shouted for Ed until I lost my voice and pounded on the door until my knuckles were raw, but I was answered by silence.

  CHAPTER 27

  I leaned my weight against the door, my arms stretched above my head, my cheek pressing the wood. I guess I hoped that I would osmose through it. The door was my contact with the world. My heart was beating so fast, I was sure I was going to have a heart attack. I didn’t move for a minute, hoping to slow it down.

  That didn’t dissipate my panic. This was like the hayloft, only a hundred times worse. My breath came in pants, and I felt lightheaded. I placed my hands together in front of my nose and consciously breathed more slowly. That helped a little. But I didn’t dare turn around, because of the monsters I was sure were behind me. Of course, I wouldn’t see them unless they had phosphorescent eyes. But I knew they were there.

  I finally calmed down enough to examine my alternatives. One was that I could spend the night here. Although I cringed at the idea, I knew that I wouldn’t die in one night. In fact, there was food and water available, and blankets to ward off the cold that I was beginning to feel. There must be a flashlight in here, although I wasn’t sure where it was. Certainly, there were plenty of batteries.

  Somebody would find me eventually. Veronica and her family would be back in about twenty-four hours. If I made enough noise, they would hear me, even this far from the house. But Ed said he was coming for me tomorrow—with a rifle.

  He had to open the door before he could shoot me. I could use the same strategy he had used—hiding behind the door. A .22 bullet wouldn’t penetrate the thick wood, and in order to get a clear shot at me, he would have to come inside where I would have a chance to tackle him before he could aim the rifle. It was a clumsy weapon to use in such close quarters. Or I could close the door and put us both in the dark where we would be equals. I could even run out and shut him in, like he did to me.

  He clea
rly hadn’t thought that part of his plan through. But what was the rest of his plan? He talked about getting royalties from gas wells on the farm. The only chance of his family ever owning the farm would be if all the members of my family were dead, as well as Aunt Dorothy and Uncle Jeff. That was unthinkable. But apparently he was thinking the unthinkable. Had I been right about what had happened between him and Ralph? That would make it less unthinkable.

  No, I couldn’t wait for him to come and get me. Whatever else he was planning to do would be done by that time. I had to get out of here as fast as possible. But how? I was engulfed in black despair. My family was going to die. Aunt Dorothy and Uncle Jeff were going to die. I didn’t know how, but I was sure of it.

  I wallowed in these thoughts for a few minutes and then abruptly shook myself mentally. This kind of thinking was getting me nowhere. There must be a way to get out of here. The words of Uncle Jeff came to me. He worked with the reliability of systems. He said, “Look for the weakest link.” That was where you had to concentrate your efforts, to make sure the system didn’t fail, whether it was an airplane—or a jail.

  This was a kind of jail. What was its weakest link? The door. I felt the hasp. It was a straight piece of metal, attached to the door by several large screws. It was on hinges and swung over a staple in which the padlock could be inserted, so that the door could be locked from the inside. To keep the nasty outside world out.

  The hasp on the other side was identical to this one, except I remembered that it was bent at a right angle and the padlock went through a staple attached to the frame. If I could get enough pressure on the door to pull out the screws that fastened the hasp to the other side, then the padlock would no longer hold the door closed.

  I swung the inside hasp toward me and tentatively pulled on it. It felt very solid. The screws were strong and they were in tight. And I was trying to pull out the screws on the outside hasp. Even if I could generate enough leverage on this hasp to pull out screws, it was a fifty-fifty chance that the screws on this side would be the ones pulled out. Both sides wouldn’t come out at the same time. This was like pulling the protective strips off the ends of Band-Aids. Even when you pulled on both strips at the same time, one would always come off before the other.

  I still pulled as hard as I could on the hasp, bracing one foot against the wall beside the door to give me additional leverage. I would give anything to be Charles Atlas right now. In order to pull hard, I had to grip the metal hasp tightly, so that my fingers wouldn’t slide off it. After a few seconds of pulling as hard as I could, my fingers hurt so much from the metal digging into them that I lost my grip.

  I sat down on the concrete floor with a thump. That hurt, but not as much as the thought that there was no way for me to open the door without tools. Unless I could kick it open. I stood up and kicked it several times with the bottom of my foot, but it didn’t budge. Of course not. The door opened inward; I was kicking the door against the frame. And the frame was made of concrete. I backed up a couple of steps and ran into it with my shoulder, just to see what would happen. That hurt my shoulder but had no affect on the door.

  I remembered that Veronica had said there was a toolbox in the shelter. I had to pull myself away from the door and find it. With the right tools, I could take the door off its hinges.

  I turned away from the door for the first time since Ed had locked me in. I saw nothing. When I didn’t move, I heard nothing. There were no monsters. They had disappeared with my childhood. I was completely alone, except for perhaps a spider or two. For starters, I needed to find a flashlight and the toolbox.

  I went to the wall where the equipment was stored and started attempting to identify objects by feel. I tried to remember where items I had seen were located. Unfortunately, I hadn’t looked at them carefully during the tour and didn’t have a good mental map of the layout.

  I located the water bottles and the food readily enough. Most of the food was in cans. I would need a can opener before I could eat any of it. What I really needed was a light. A cardboard box felt like the one that had been labeled as containing batteries. I opened the flaps. Sure enough, there were D-size batteries inside. I moved my hand around, searching for a flashlight, but none was in the box.

  Where was the flashlight likely to be? The only flashlight I had seen during the tour was the one Veronica had been carrying, and she had taken that one out with her. Maybe there was no flashlight in the shelter. No, that didn’t make sense. Everything else was so well planned, even to the batteries. There must be a flashlight.

  I worked my way along the wall, trying to be methodical. I identified paper plates and metal cups, eating utensils, blankets, folded army cots, folding chairs, and a bunch of other stuff, but no flashlight. I also didn’t find a toolbox.

  A feeling of hopelessness enveloped me. My family was in danger, and there was no way I could warn them. While I was trying to think of a solution to my imprisonment, I returned to where the blankets and cots were stored. My family had used army cots for camping. They had crossed wooden legs and a canvas pad to sleep on. They folded up into portable bundles. Working as patiently as I could, I assembled one by feel. I threw a couple of blankets on it and now had a place to rest. But I couldn’t rest. I needed to get out of here.

  I sat on the cot and tried to organize my thoughts. I needed a light. And then I saw one. My eyes must be adjusting to the dark. A very faint light on the ceiling showed me where the ventilation hole was. I went and stood directly under the hole and looked up the shaft. A little light seeped in from the top. I retrieved one of the metal folding chairs and placed it under the hole. I stood on the chair, although I had to duck my head to avoid hitting it against the ceiling. I stuck my arm up the hole. I could feel a metal cylinder above the concrete. The light was coming through a hole in the cylinder.

  I had located a broom during my search. I found it again and stuck the handle up the hole. It hit something metallic. I thrust upwards with the broom and was greeted with a clang. I did this several more times. Judging from a rasping sound, whatever I was hitting was moving. After a particularly hard thrust, this object gave way and I looked directly up into the evening sky.

  I had knocked the top off the cylinder. I could see the outside world; I just couldn’t get to it. If only the hole were larger. If only…

  More light now came down the shaft, but this was rapidly waning, because it was getting dark outside. I quickly looked around the shelter. I could dimly see the equipment along the wall. I went to where the food was stored and found the paper bag with the utensils in it. I carried it under the ventilation hole and looked inside. Using a combination of sight and feel, I located a can opener in the bag. At least I could eat.

  I decided to use the remaining daylight to see what food was available. It was dinnertime, and I was hungry. I opened several boxes of canned food and carried cans over to the hole to identify the contents. I located a can of corned beef hash and a can of beets and decided that I had my dinner.

  I also found several metal cups. I opened the top of a large water bottle by feel and tried to pour water into the cup by tipping the bottle. Most of the water spilled onto the floor, but I did manage to fill the cup. It was cold to drink. What I really needed was some hot cocoa. I opened the cans, mostly by feel, and used a cheap metal fork to eat the hash and beets right out of them. The cold hash especially tasted yucky, but at least it would give me nourishment.

  By the time I finished eating, the small amount of light from the shaft was gone and I was back in total darkness. The mental lift this light had given me dissipated and my mood was as black as my surroundings. I had to keep busy.

  I made my way to the door and felt for the hinges. There were three and they were sturdy, but I was sure that with a pair of pliers, a screwdriver, and a hammer I could take the door off them. Perhaps even in the dark.

  Where was the toolbox? I decided to go through all the supplies again. I did this in detail, opening all the boxes and
feeling all the contents. I moved boxes around to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. I was still looking for a flashlight, also, but I had no better luck finding that than I did finding tools.

  After going through everything thoroughly, my spirits were at a low. I was getting cold. I sat on the cot and wrapped myself in blankets. I tried to think of a plan, but I couldn’t seem to focus enough to come up with anything. I wondered what had happened to Ed. Was he really intent on killing two families in hopes of getting some money from gas wells? He must have flipped his lid.

  And did this tie in to Ralph, who was already dead? And the necklace? My mind kept going over the map that Ralph had created for finding the necklace. Except that the necklace wasn’t in its hiding place, and judging from the old spider webs in the hole under the floor of the hayloft, it hadn’t been there recently, if ever.

  If the necklace was nonexistent, why had Ralph created the map? I suspected that the answer was very simple. Ralph had been a prankster. He had created the map to have fun with Ed. Unfortunately, this prank had cost him his life.

  I moved the cot against the wall, so that I would have support for my back. I didn’t want to lie on it and go to sleep. I needed to stay alert, even though I couldn’t think of anything to do at the moment. What if Ed decided to come back for me during the night? If I heard somebody at the door, I had to be prepared to leap into action.

  CHAPTER 28

  I spent a restless night, filled with weird mental images and quasi-dreams. I must have dozed some, because I saw a little light at the bottom of the ventilation shaft sooner than I expected. I felt cold and stiff. I had to get up and move around.

  Eating cold canned food appealed to me about as much as jumping into the Arctic Ocean, but I knew I should eat something. I would need all the strength I could muster. I took a can from a box I had identified last night as containing baked beans. I ate them and drank some water. I peed in the far corner of the shelter, because the chemical toilet was still in its original container and I couldn’t figure out how to assemble it in the dark. I had done this last night, also. I managed to splash some urine off the wall and onto myself.