Chapter 24: The Cell

The sun hit hard on Willow’s exposed shoulders and neck. She’d opened the sunroof of her SUV allowing the cool of her AC to mince with the burning sensation against her skin from above. Since she was a child, the feeling had always been appealing to her. She pulled the SUV to the side of the road, edging into a mud and grass covered driveway. “This it?” She leaned forward trying to catch a view of the white-washed plantation home she’d heard so much about. Through the thicket of tree branches and covering leaves she could catch faint glimpse of the home, mysterious and elusive as its history.

Chase nodded, obviously uncomfortable in his seat.

“You okay?” she asked.

“These clothes don’t fit.”

She knew by his expression that there was much more. His fiance may be hidden within the depths of the Bellafont. Despite his indiscretion - and her own - he must still care deeply for her. He was, after all, risking his life to be here. That meant something. And as he shifted anxiously, she could tell it meant more than his words betrayed.

She took her foot off the brake, selfishly, she took a quick glance at the tight red sweat pants hugging his legs and the oversized pink Bugs Bunny shirt. “You look fine to me. Besides, that’s the best I could find.” She stifled her laugh behind tight lips curling int he corners.

Willow let go the brakes and moved her vehicle forward through a small mud puddle. The SUV’s tires gripped deep into the mud and moved up a small incline and then between an opening, the gated entry long-since fallen to the side in a patina that would excite anyone looking to rehab their old Victorian N’awlins home. “You stay here,” she said slipping the car into park under the hanging leaves of a large willow.

“Then why did you get me this?” he asked, gesturing to the single crutch laying on the backseat.

“Not for you to follow me inside. If we have to get out fast, you will be a liability.”

“Look, if you get into some shit, I can help. Besides, if I can get away from Old Pappy, I can get away from anything.”

“No.” she said firmly.

He shook his head. “I can go with you, or follow you after you get out. However we do it, I’m going inside.”

Willow hated this. She was cornered and knew it. She looked back at the old home and then to Chase. “Come on then,” she sighed opening her door. He reached behind the seat, grabbing the clutch off the fine black leather interior. It took him a moment to maneuver the crutch into the front seat and turn his body in a way that he could step out. Willow saw him wince as she walked around to his side of the vehicle.

They walked along a grassy trail leading to the side of the home. Willow had her bat in one hand, her .38 tucked into the waistband of her jeans and her camera around her neck. She could tell in her peripheral that he was eyeing her. She led him around to the back of the house where she stopped suddenly.

“Tell me you see that,” she hissed back to him in as quiet a whisper as she could muster.

She stared at him, her eyes falling, wondering how he could not see it. “What?” he asked, his mind obviously focused on the screen door hanging limply from a single bolt.

Willow cocked her head back in the direction she’d been looking. “The little girl. She’s...glowing.”

Chase turned to Willow as if she was going nuts. “You are not losing it are you? What are you talking about?”

She shook her head. “She’s right fucking there. Pointing at that back door.”

Willow tentatively walked slowly up the stairs and onto a ragged porch. She pulled the screen door aside, and it fell off the last hinge, collapsing hard against the porch. Chase caught it with one hand as its corner bounced back up, nearly clipping the wound on his leg. Together they lowered it onto the porch.

“Whoops,” he said, teasing her.

“They can bill me for it.” Behind where the screen door had been was a large white door, accented in black. At one time - a long time ago - it had probably been an extravagant purchase. Four rectangular windows were centered in the door giving her little view of the inside. The interior was veiled behind a buildup of muck and dust. She turned the knob of the door. The knob moved fine enough. if anything it was loose. She could feel the click and movement of the internal components. but, as the latch retreated, she had to lean on to the door before it opened. When it gave way in a hard release and scratching on the wood floor, she stepped into the darkness with Chase right behind her.

The kitchen was dark, with a white lopsided linoleum table sitting on black and white checkerboard tiled floor. Chase tried a nearby light switch, but it just snapped with each flip up and down.

Willow walked in and pointed to a set of stairs to the left. “The girl is there, pointing at the stairs.”

“Who?”

“The little girl in the white dress.” she snapped.

“I don’t see any girl.”

Willow said nothing as she headed to the stairwell. She hit the flash of her camera, and it briefly illuminated a rickety narrow set of stairs.

“Okay, that looks like a friggin’ death trap,” she said sliding her phone out of the left back pocket of her jeans.

“You had a phone in there? Those jeans look painted on.”

Willow wasn’t impressed by his compliment. They were there to save his fiance. Read the room, she thought. “Not the time to compliment my ass,.” She found the proper app on her phone. A bright light spilled from the back of her cell. She turned her phone around and modestly illuminated the stairwell.

“Now what’s the girl saying?”

“She doesn’t say anything.” Willow replied pausing at the head of the stairs. “She just points.”

“And she’s pointing down?”

“Yeah. But that’s not the problem.”

“What is the problem?”

“She’s shaking her head. She doesn’t want us to go? You don’t want us down there?” Willow asked her. “Or, is it something else? I don’t understand.” The girl remained in place. She held her hand out. She twisted her head. “Is there something dangerous down there?”

“What’s she doing?” Chase was looking down the dark stairs from his vantage.

“I think she just wants us to be careful. Now would be a good time for a gimp to head back to the SUV.”

“I wish I knew what that meant,” he said, obviously not going to go back.

Carefully they walked down the creaking staircase, staying as close to the strongest part of the staircase along the edges. Chase gripped the threadbare banister, which pulled the dust of aged drywall from the wall. The bannister could have fallen off as easily as the screen door had earlier.

“He-help,” they heard the faint murmur of a parched voice .

“You hear that?” Willow hissed.

“Your little girl?”

“No, I told you she doesn’t speak.”

“Then what-”

“Ch-Chase?”

“Rachel,” Chase called. He pushed past Willow who used the flashlight to find a light switch. “Here,” she said.

The light in Rachel’s cell came on, and Willow heard the sound of chains. “She must be chained to something. We need to get her out.”

“Rachel,” Chase called tugging at the cell door. “It’s locked,”

“No shit Sherlock,” Willow snapped. She looked at Rachel through the bars, whose dirty clothes clung to her body. “You see where they put the keys?”

She shook her head, never taking her tear-filled eyes off Chase.

“We gotta get her out,” he begged Willow.

Willow turned to see the little girl point at a table near the stairs. Willow went to it, and tugged on a drawer. “It’s stuck.”

Chase hobbled over and yanked it open. The contents fell nosily to the floor. Willow gave him a cold look, but he was already hobbling back to Rachel. Willow found the key on the floor by her foot and she scooped it up, only to see the little girl floating in front of her, with a single finger to her lips.

“Baby, I’m coming for you.”

Willow heard Chase tugging on the metal framed door.

“How nice, cause he already came for me,” a voice said from the top of the stairs.

“Oh shit,” Willow looked up as the lights went off, and a sudden surge of pain brought her to her knees.

The lights were buzzing above her when Willow gained consciousness. She rubbed her aching head and twisted onto her back.

“What the fuck?” She looked around and found herself on the wrong side of the cell door.

“Chase! Rachel!” She called out only to hear her voice echo. “Help me!”

There was no response. She was alone. And as she clasped the bars she could feel the cool wetness of blood winding its way through her hair and then leaving a trace stream of red against the back skin of her neck.

Where had everyone gone?