S. Bodeen - The Compound

“Probably. There were so many other tests, though. Which date is the one?”

Lexie sat down on the floor. “Isn’t this all ironic? That the code is all about nuclear war, the entire reason this place was built?”

I shrugged. “These dates aren’t really about nuclear war per se, because they’re all bombs built by the same country, and a nuclear war would be bombs from at least two countries, which…”

“What?”

My hand went to my mouth. “Lexie, you’re right.”

“What?”

“The last date.” I put in the numbers.

5 7 1 9 4 5 7 1 6 1 9 4 5 8 6 1 9 4 5 8 9 1 9 4 5 8 2 9 1 9 4 9

Terese considered the numbers. “What happened August 29, 1949?”

I smiled. “The first Soviet nuclear detonation.” I looked at Lexie. “There’s your reason for the Compound.” I grabbed a piece of paper and pen, jotted the numbers down, double-checking them three times, then handed them off to Lexie to check as well.

“Do you think that’s it?” Lexie sounded hopeful.

“One way to find out.”

“Can I go?” Lucas stood in front of me.

I set a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, buddy, I need to go fast.”

He stuck out his foot, showing me his cross trainers just like mine. “I can go fast.”

He felt scrawny under my grip. “I’ll come back for you, okay? But now I have to leave.” I shoved aside the dresser. “Lexie, make sure you put this back after I leave.”

She stepped over to me, hesitated, and then gave me a quick hug. “Good luck,” she whispered. “Hurry.”

Again, I found myself running down the hall, into the family room, and through the archway.

This time I didn’t hesitate. My right index finger punched in the numbers. A series of electronic blips sounded. With a loud puff of air, the vacuum seal of the door released. The silver door fell open. Stale air came through.

“Thank you, God.”

I grabbed an edge and pushed the door out of my way. Other than being dusty, the entryway to the stairs was in pretty much the same condition as I’d last seen it six years before.

It seemed smaller. And dimmer. A lone red emergency light lit the area. There was a fuse box on the wall. I opened it and started flipping switches. One flooded the area with light.

I started to climb the stairs two at a time. All that money and Dad couldn’t invest in an elevator? I suppose he thought about what fifteen years without maintenance would do to the machinery and figured stairs were a better idea.

As I climbed the metal stairs, my footsteps were quiet. I thought they should make more noise. The way down had been so loud and chaotic. Maybe I expected that from the trip back up as well.

After two flights, my breaths came faster. I didn’t remember the trip being so arduous the first time. But this trip I was climbing, not descending.

I found myself thinking of the first rainy day of second grade. I was anxious to wear my new blue slicker with matching boots. As always, Mom drove us, me and Eddy in the middle seats.

We stopped for her coffee at Tully’s, the smell of it filling the SUV as we turned into the school driveway. We sat in a line of other cars as they idled at the entrance and gently ejected their small passengers. Vivaldi played on the radio and the heater blew warm air, pleasantly overheating us.

Waiting our turn, I adjusted my backpack and got a better grip on my blue lunchbox, which held the same thing every day, packed by Els. Peanut butter sandwich, decrusted and cut diagonally into fourths. Minicarrots. A snack bag of chocolate chip cookies. They came with a napkin and a sweet, tender note from my mom, ending always with

ILY Eli! Mommy .

The SUV moved up. We popped open the doors. Mom blew kisses and waved good-bye. We shrieked, jumping boot first into the downpour, ecstatic to be seven years old on a rainy day.

I wanted that again. That security that came from knowing exactly what was in my lunchbox. I wanted that so bad.

At the top of the stairs, I saw the hatch. I didn’t remember it being so wide, but then I basically got shoved down it the first time. There hadn’t been a lot of time for observation. A skinny set of steps ascended and I took them nearly in one leap.

I pushed on the hatch. Didn’t budge. I panicked, thinking maybe Dad had Phil or someone seal us in.

Driven by adrenaline, I shoved with my hands as hard as I could. I felt it loosen a tiny bit, enough for a little dirt to dribble in around the edge. I relaxed. Soil had probably accumulated over the opening. Maybe we weren’t trapped. My fingers reached through, pushing dirt out of the way, pulling some of it inside. I still couldn’t garner enough leeway to get my hand out to work away the rest of the dirt.

Once more I strained, shoving my hand out the slim opening. The hatch didn’t move any more. I tried to pull my hand back in.

It was stuck. Stuck in the cookie jar of the outside world.

“No, no, no!”

If I yelled for help, would my family hear me?

“Crap!”

Someone grabbed my leg. “Need a hand?”

I didn’t even have a chance to look at my father before he started yanking me downward, out of the hatch.

“No!!” My hand was stuck, and his violent wrenching was going to break my wrist. “Stop!” I kicked out with my legs as I tried to anchor myself up.

Dad was almost breathless as he kept on trying to pull me out. “Did I surprise you? Because you sure as hell surprised me, figuring out the code like that.”

Each comment was emphasized by a hard yank, each one making me want to scream out in pain.

“How’d you do it? Memorize the numbers? There was maybe enough time, maybe enough time, but I didn’t think so, a lot of numbers to remember, the human mind can really only process seven at a time, that’s why phone numbers are seven digits long…”

The pain in my wrist got so bad I couldn’t follow his rambling. I tried to kick out at him. “Stop! Stop it!” My cries echoed in the space as I tried to concentrate. Tried to plan. No one was going to save me. He was hurting me. There was only one way to make it stop. I looked down at him the best I could, waiting for the right moment.

“You know how I figured it out, Dad?”

He paused to look up at me, like he really wanted to know.

“You taught me well.” I stood on my left leg and flailed out with my right foot as hard as I could. I felt it connect with his face, so I did it again, finding even more strength. He fell away, lost his balance, and tumbled down the first flight of stairs.

With his muttering over, it was quiet except for my panting. I wiped the sweat out of my eyes with my good hand. At the landing, I couldn’t see him, only one of his fingers. It wasn’t moving. I was terrified it would start up again. I was terrified it wouldn’t.

I regained my footing so I could shove my hand back up, try to stop the pressure from the hatch.

How long would I have to stay like that? I hung my head and tried to regroup my strength and sanity.

“Eli?”

My head swung toward the voice. Lucas stood there in his blue outfit. He was breathing hard and looking up at me. “What happened to… him?”

“He tried to stop me from going out. He hurt me.”

Lucas frowned. “That was mean.”

“Yes, yes, it was.”

He climbed the stairs and stood beside me. “You shouldn’t have put your hand in there.”

“I know.” I tried to remain patient, keep my tone level. “It was stupid. But I need you to help, okay?”

He nodded.

There wasn’t enough time to send him all the way back down to get Lexie or Terese. Not with Dad lying there. I had an idea. “Do you think you can climb up my back?”

He looked me up and down. “I think so.”