When We Shed Civilization

Chapter 15

"What are you thinking?" Burt asked. He was sitting on a wooden bench opposite Beth, his back against a row of battered lockers.

The illumination in the poorly lit room was enough to show the worried frown on his face. The only window in their prison went into a narrow shaft—the little light it shed was losing its strength as the day waned.

The hours they had spent in their prison weighed heavily on Beth. "We need to get out of here," she said.

"Don't worry, girl," Burt replied. "You heard what they said. They don't want to kill us; they want to trade us. And your grandpa will cough up the ransom they ask for."

She tried to imagine her grandpa facing blackmail.

He wasn't a man to give in easily.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," she said. "And even if he delivers the weapons, they will be turned against Seaside."

"He's your grandpa. I'm sure he'll pay. And if this rubble tries to attack us with their new weapons, your or my people will chase them off. Even with a few guns, they don't have the firepower to break into one of our walled communities."

"But people may die." She hit her fist on the bench she sat on. "And just because of us." With that, she got up and walked over to the window. Located right under the ceiling, she could hardly get to it with her hands.

Its brittle, wooden frame was attached to two hinges at its bottom and held by a latch at its top.

Would she fit into the shaft on the other side?

She stretched to reach the rusty latch, but it was too high.

"Can you get to it?" she asked.

"Let me try."

She made room for him as he stood on his toes. With a grunt, he slid his finger through the latch and pulled. It came free, and the window tilted into an open position, the gap at its top no more than a hand's width.

"Doesn't go further," he said.

Beth didn't believe this. "Lift me up."

He frowned at her.

"Get down. I'll climb your shoulders."

"Er... okay." He gave her a sheepish grin and bent his head towards her.

"Lower."

He obliged, squatting down.

Beth climbed his shoulders, his neck ending up between her legs.

He pushed her skirt from his face and chortled. "Now, that's interesting."

"You've got a one-track mind, mountain man. Get up, slowly."

Steadying himself against the wall, he did as instructed, lifting Beth's head right up to the window.

Burt moved his fingers up her thighs, humming.

She swatted him away. Then she slid her hands along the upper edge of the window and located a bar holding it against the frame. With a pull, it came free, and the window swung all the way down.

"Keep your hands to yourself, yokel," she said, "and get me closer to the shaft."

As Burt stepped up to the wall, she pulled herself towards the opening, her shoulders just fitting through it.

Humid, moldy air filled her nostrils. She twisted her head and looked up. A small rectangle held a patch of purple evening sky far above her. Much closer, though, a metal grid crossed the shaft—cast into the concrete and barring the passage. She seized one of its bars. Thicker as a finger and solid, it didn't budge.