Standing at the window you were blind to it. The door was tiny- only
about four-and-a-half feet tall. It looked more like a storage
closet.
It was locked.
Casey dug into her book bag. "Try this," she said and handed me a
screwdriver.
"You're very resourceful."
"This is news to you?"
The fit between the door and the molding was uneven, so it was easy to
slip the screwdriver between them and pry, and I guess the groove was
worn away pretty badly, because it gave almost immediately.
"There you go."
"Our hero," said Kim. There was nervous laughter.
The door fell open. Our flashlights played over the old rotten stairs.
There was a rough railing constructed of two-by-four pine reinforced
with irregular lengths of cheap planking, dark and weathered, as though
it had been pulled off some barn and tacked hastily in place. Off to
the left you could see the stained, rusted hulk of a boiler.
It was hard to see the rest through the cobwebs.
"I think they're growing 'em big down there," said Steve.
Kim put her hand on Casey's arm. "Do we really have to bother?"
"Of course. It's hideous. Come on."
I offered her the flashlight Steven had appropriated hers when she'd
gone digging for the screwdriver. She gave me an ironic look and took
it from me and stepped carefully down the stairs. Halfway down she
turned around. The three of us stood there like passengers waiting for
a train. I was leaning against the doorframe, a little hunched over,
scratching my chin. Kim stood behind me with her arms folded over her
chest. Steven wasstaringatthe ceiling, tapping his foot impatiently.
We imagined the view from where she stood and broke out laughing.
"You guys," she said.
I turned to Kimberley, ignoring her.
"You hear anything?"
"Nah. Nothing but spiders down there."
"I must have heard spiders, then."