Pepper, the Highlander & the Dead Guy

“It’s only seven. It won’t take long. Come on, be adventurous,” I coaxed.

“It’s madness, Pepper. Besides if that honeysuckle bush grew over the entrance, it will need to be cut away and that’s not a job to be done at night.”

“I have an axe. A few chops here and there will do,” I encouraged, getting more excited about the prospect.

“If I don’t go with you, you’ll go by yourself, right?”

I grinned.

“I’ll go on one condition,” Amy said, and I nodded. “You text Ian and let him know what you’re up to.”

I grabbed my phone and sent a text, detailing where the entrance was to the cellar and how Amy and I intended to explore it. I knew Amy had an ulterior motive in having me text Ian. She was counting on Ian hurrying after us, but with him out with the guys for the night, I doubted he’d hear his cell phone any time soon.

I grabbed flashlights, ones that cast wide beams, a high-powered lantern, an axe, and a small first-aid kit. When working with an axe you never know what might happen, so it was wise to be prepared to have something to treat a wound right at your disposal.

The lodge seemed extra quiet when we pulled up to it. Low lights cast a pleasant glow in the main room, but no one was about. Not a soul stirred. Outside lights lit the pathways around the side, but stopped at the back end of the lodge, a place Ian had yet to start any work on. All the work was concentrated on the front of the lodge.

“I’m glad I leave extra clothes at your place, or I’d ruin too many good outfits with your spur of the moment jaunts in places I wouldn’t choose to go,” Amy said, the lantern she held flooding the ground with light and leaving a clear path for her to follow. She stopped suddenly and gasped. “Did you see those eyes peeking out of the bushes?”

I stopped and gave a look but saw nothing. “Probably one of the many animals that prowl the woods at night around here.”

Amy shook her head. “Don’t remind me.”

A strong, cold breeze whipped around us, and Amy cast a glance at the night sky. The sky was awash with drifting clouds, some stalling as if staring down on them in warning before moving on and freeing the half moon, but only for a short time before more clouds hovered over it.

“This is a bad idea. We should have waited until morning.” Amy jumped when an owl hooted. “I don’t know how I let you talk me into things.”

I turned and laughed. “Like you really don’t want to find out if there’s something in the cellar the key might fit?”

“Of course, I do. I’m just as curious as you, a trait you fostered in me. However, I’d prefer not to do it at night, with clouds darkening an already dark night, the wind howling, and eyes glowing in the woods making everything spookier.”

“Nothing spooky here but your imagination,” I said and continued on.

I found where the cellar was with ease, the honeysuckle bush lying across the bulkhead doors, concealing it with what life it had left. A storm had either done damage to it, or it had succumbed to lack of care or age, though honeysuckle wasn’t easy to kill as Max used to say and he had insisted it wasn’t for lack of trying.

“This will be a breeze,” I said and barely had to use my axe, the branches falling away easily. Amy held her lantern and mine so I could see what I was doing, but she kept turning so much to hurry glances at the woods that I got sporadic lighting.

As I thought, it didn’t take long to expose the bulkhead doors. They had rusted and aged with the years. One of the hinges had pulled loose, making it a bit difficult to open. But Amy and I gave it our all. The two doors creaked and groaned in protest at being disturbed but finally gave way.

Amy shuddered, staring into the dark hole once the doors laid wide open. “That looks like a mouth of a monster about to swallow us.”

“It’s a cellar, Amy, nothing more than a cellar.”

“A creepy cellar,” she corrected.

“What old cellar isn’t creepy?” I said and took a step into the mouth of darkness. Amy reluctantly followed.

Between the lantern she carried and the flashlight I fished out of my jacket pocket, the cellar was lit well enough from where we stood at the entrance. Cobwebs and spider webs seemed to hang everywhere and a thick musty, damp odor had both of us wrinkling our noses. I realized that with Ian’s fear of spiders he’d never be able to come down here.

I brushed the cobwebs out of the way and alerted Amy to spider webs, she also having no love for the crawly creatures, as we stepped farther into the cellar.