Condemned

35 | Sam

After bolting into the woods on almost silent wolf paws, Jael makes subtle appearances, in Ivy's line of sight.

A quivering bush here. A snapping branch there. Nothing definitive, but enough to draw her off.

She abruptly ends her call, bobbles her phone into her jacket pocket, benefiting from some devil's luck, apparently. It doesn't fall and go sliding off the roof she's standing on. She then takes off on her broomstick before I can find the nerve to take a breath.

It all happens so fast, and my eyesight isn't exactly ideal for this. All I know, she's out of my immediate view. I have no other way of knowing if it's "time" or not, and I count to ten, just to be sure.

While I'm at it, I consider my options. I could crawl through the grass with it shaking the whole time and endure the wear-and-tear on my hands and knees.

Should I sprint on two feet instead? It'll be more movement and exposure, but it'll take a lot less time with fewer side effects.

At that, I decide the time is now, and I'm out in the open field, running as fast as my tired, injured body and bare feet are capable.

It takes more energy than I have, but I manage to stay upright. I keep my focus on the old barn and my concentration on my pace, attempting to find a balance between speed, pain tolerance, and the damage I may incur.

I slow down once the barn is my shield. At a glance skyward, I detect only a flock of geese. Then I turn my gaze to the base of the structure and search for that bent nail I supposedly "can't miss."

Three-quarters of the way down, I realize that everything looks a little bent and out of place, and I start panicking, but a few steps later, the nail's there, and it is obvious.

I pull out the wood beam on my first honest try and crawl into the hole. Maneuvering myself into a flat position on my stomach, facing outward, I extend my arms and secure the long piece of wood in my grip.

Above my head and beside my fingers, I have only the leeway of a few inches, and I'm fighting gravity the whole time. The plank is like a seesaw in my hands, obviously not nailed in on the other end. I have to get both the nail in the hole and the other side of the wood into its former position—leaning on another beam that's jutting out a few inches off the ground.

After the second failed attempt, I peer into the sky through the cracks—a brightening gray, and luckily free of flying objects—and gather my wits and patience for another try.

Finally, the nail catches and slides in. I'm not sure the other end is in its proper place, though. Is it good enough for now? Jael will be fiddling with it again anyway, hopefully in a little while, and I leave it at that. It's not a good investment of time to keep fiddling with it, just to confirm, especially if there's a chance that I'm seen moving it.

Snaking around, heading in the opposite direction, the narrow crawl space is disgusting, to say the least. The rodents squeak and scatter. Worms and worse. The cobwebs show evidence of tearing in the center of this unofficial passageway, but on either side, they're elaborate, and for the most part, they're occupied by spiders that are almost as big as my palm.

This barn is falling apart in every way possible, and light is not as absent as I expected. Considering what I see and what could be seen, I can't say this is a good thing. The roof is in shambles. I can see spots of light through the floor gaps. The floorboards, directly over my head, aren't in much better shape. They're splintered, cracked, broken off, crooked in places, and completely missing in others.

In the peak of the day sunlight, I'm not sure this "hiding spot" would be as decent as Jael let on. It could be something he neglected to consider if he dropped off our stuff in the dark, which seems likely based on the timing of my rescue and how far we had to travel to get here.