A Wolf in the Fold by Ralph Compton

Author:Ralph Compton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin USA, Inc.

Chapter 15

I twisted my neck around to take stock and nearly gouged an eye out on a thin spine of charred wood that had once been a floorboard. I discovered I had been wrong. Only part of the floor had caved in, a wedge-shaped section that had collapsed within an inch of my cranny and within an inch of crushing my skull like an eggshell.

Gathering my strength, I rolled over on my other side. It was a tight squeeze, but by worming my body a bit deeper into the niche, I succeeded. I placed both hands against the still very warm boards, and pushed. They would not budge. Panic gripped me at the thought I might be trapped. To die of hunger and thirst had always struck me as a horrible way to cash in one’s chips. I would much rather go quick, with a bullet or a blade to a vital organ.

A crossbeam held the section of floor together, but the crossbeam was loose; I could see it jounce and shake when I pushed.

I tried a different board. It and two others next to it were the most badly burned. Sheer joy coursed through me as, creaking loudly, it gave way. Not a lot, maybe a foot or so, but it was enough that when I pushed the other two boards, I created a gap wide enough for me to wriggle through.

The effort cost me, though. I lay still and spent, caked with sweat. My chest did not hurt, which surprised me. I wanted to examine the wound, but it would have to wait. Presently I felt strong enough to sit up. I gazed at where the steps had been only to find them gone. They had been burned to ashes. Again panic stabbed through me. I could not possibly jump high enough to hook my elbows over the edge and pull myself out. Then I noticed a smoldering mound that had once been stockpiled provisions.

Bracing myself against the fallen wedge of floor, I slowly stood. It took everything I had. I leaned against the blackened boards until I could shuffle to the mound and gingerly lift my foot. It was spongy but solid enough to support me. With my hands on the dirt wall, I rose high enough to poke my head and shoulders out of the root cellar.

A cool breeze fanned my face, a breeze so wonderfully welcome and refreshing that I was content to stand there and do nothing but breathe deeply for a while. Stars speckled the firmament, and by the position of the Big Dipper I figured it had to be close to two in the morning. Were it not for the east wall of the cabin, which was still burning, I would be in total darkness.

It was strange. Fires are fickle beasts. The roof was gone, the west and north walls had been burned to the ground, yet most of the east wall and part of the south wall were largely intact. Parts of the floor had been burned through; other parts were barely scorched.

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