“It’s fine,” he soothes me. “Just let it out if you need to. We’re here. We’re not going anywhere.”
My lips quiver, and I bite on my lower lip to calm down.
“This was the main room,” I hear Fynn talk, and it sounds like he’s talking to himself. “The entrance door was there.” The flashlight points in the opposite direction. “The Southern window was there. And, the trap door was just through the fireplace.”
I listen to his words, filled with hope. The flashlight tells his story, and I pray to God that he is right, that his memory serves him well. He runs over to one of the standing walls and gets down to his knees. I only notice the Moonlight at this point, and it seems like it’s starting to burn brighter, as if the Moon itself wants us to find our path, it doesn’t want us to stay lost.
I can see outlines of the men with me, Fynn’s crouching body, as the flashlight points at the floor which he is so frantically trying to clear. I hear commotion, rubble being thrown to the side, the rolling of small pebbles and crackling of dried out branches.
“There!” Fynn shouts victoriously.
Anderson and I run over to help him.
“Help me with this!” Fynn instructs us, pointing the flashlight at a wooden door in the floor, which has something akin to a brass door knocker. I remember those from our old weekend house in the mountains, the one dad had to sell at some point, because it reminded him of mom too much. But, the door was the same.
Anderson grabs the door knocker, and Fynn tries the sides. They both grunt with exasperation, and it takes them three tries to finally open it. The door unfastens with a loud screeching sound, and a huge cloud of dust escapes it, making all of us cough.
“How do we get down?” I dare to look into the hold, but without Fynn’s flashlight, I can’t see anything.
“There should be a ladder or something,” Anderson tells me.
The flashlight reveals exactly that. It looks old and worn out, unsafe to climb, but that won’t stop me. I adjust myself to go inside, but Fynn grabs me by the elbow.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he snarls. “Are you crazy? We don’t know what or who’s in there.”
“My dad?”
“I’ll go down, and if I need help, I’ll call for Anderson,” he orders me. “You stay here and don’t move.”
I open my mouth to object, but nothing comes out. Instead, I exhale loudly, and obey. My silly ideas have gotten us here. If I hadn’t made him take a walk with me, they wouldn’t have taken Anderson in the first place. Perhaps it’s best just to do as I’m told this time.
Fynn goes down, and I huddle close to Anderson, as we remain in darkness.
“Are you scared?” he asks me.
“Only that my father might not be here.”
“If he’s not here, we’ll look for him elsewhere. He has to be somewhere. And, we’ll find him. I promise.”
I lean over and rest my head on his shoulder. Without anticipating it, I feel his lips on my forehead as he plants a soft kiss on it. My heart flutters like a butterfly’s wings, soft at first, then with a strength to move mountains.
“I need help over here!” Fynn suddenly shouts from inside.
Anderson immediately jumps into the hole, not even looking where exactly he’s stepping. I hear a blaring thud noise as he drops to the ground, then the rushing of footsteps. The resonances of commotion reach me, but no matter how hard I peer into the darkness, I see nothing.
“Did you find him?” I shout into the hole, hearing my own echo.
Instead of a reply, the flashlight appears, shining through the hole, then upward in my direction.
“Can you lower yourself a little into the hole?” Fynn asks. “We need you to grab his hands, then pull as hard as you can!”
My mind goes blank. “You found him!?”
“Just pull him up!” Fynn repeats, and I immediately do as I’m told.
I reach into the hole, and the flashlight illuminates my father’s slumbering face.
“Is he alright!?” I whimper, as I grab his arms, and start pulling up with all my might.