Was it a vault of some kind? If so, it had to be massive. Like a bank vault. Or maybe it was a panic room. Or an old bomb shelter, though the metal had glistened a bright silver. It couldn't have been very old.
GS, for lack of a better name, whimpered again when I started to back out. He picked his way through the dirt, then bounded up into the shop. I didn't bound, but I did hoist myself up using the brute strength God gave me. And the frame of the door. My fingernails would never be the same.
GS and I searched Mr. V's desk for some clue as to where the cabin might be and found nothing. I glanced at all the pictures again, examining them closer this time, reminiscing about Mr. V's wonderful kids while looking for a house number or a street sign. Nothing again. Sadly, I just didn't know the area well enough for any of it to look familiar. Those pictures could have been taken in Nepal for all I knew.
Giving up, I took one of the pictures out of its frame, ran my fingertips over the kids' mischievous faces, then folded it and put it in my back pocket. Then I turned to the next challenge. How to get back up to the access panel. The answer presented itself by means of a massively tall ladder, the kind that looked like it would topple over at any moment.
After positioning it under the panel, I climbed it the way I imagined I would climb to my execution: slowly and reluctantly.
When I made it to the top, I clutched the opening and had little choice but to jump as hard as I could. The ladder would surely fall, but I had no alternative. I simply wasn't strong enough to pull myself up from that distance.
"Bye, sweetheart," I said to GS.
He barked and disappeared through an old chest on the wall opposite me.
With one final prayer, I shoved off the ladder as hard as I could and pulled with everything I had. Sadly, everything I had wasn't going to be enough. I heard the ladder crash into a myriad of fragile things. Mr. V was going to kill me. Now I had antiques to pay for along with my hospital bills. I'd never get a phone. And my arms were beginning to shake.
When I heard a bark above my head, I glanced up to see GS standing over me, his tail wagging as though we were playing a game. But my arms were giving out. I kicked to try to heft myself up, to no avail. Then GS took hold of my shirt at the shoulder and pulled.
It was working. I slowly ascended until I had enough leverage to pull myself up. Why on earth did people make ceilings a thousand feet high?
I crawled back as quickly as I could without falling through the ceiling, but my shaking arms weren't helping. Neither was GS's desire to play pounce-the-human. Basically, the next chain of events was the result of a combination of several key factors, the main one being a sudden and devastating lack of strength. Despite all the careful navigation, I fell through the ceiling. I know. I never saw it coming either.
And I had been this close.
Part of me landed on the shelves we'd dragged over, and the other part, namely my ass, did not. I executed this cool flip thing – I knew this because the ceiling was there, then it wasn't, then it was again – and landed face-first on the linoleum floor.
"Janey!" Cookie screeched and rushed to me. "Oh, my God, are you okay?" She pried me off the floor and helped me to my feet.
"I – I think so." I blinked and tried to fill my lungs. They refused to take more than a quarter of a tank. It would have to do for now.
She brushed me off, and then we turned in unison to the gaping hole in the ceiling.
"Think Dixie will notice that?" I asked Cookie.
It really wasn't that big. And it was right beside the original access panel. Now Dixie could have two.
"We can cover it up," Cookie said, panicking.
"That's going to take a lot of spackle."
"No, with the shelves."
"Oh, right." We pushed the shelves over until they were directly under the hole.
"Okay," I said, assessing our work. "As long as everyone stands right here, right in this very spot, they won't be able to see it."
"This sucks," Cookie said, suddenly despondent.
"Don't worry, hon. I'll pay for it. Dixie won't mind."
"Wait, maybe Robert can fix it. We can offer his services in exchange for us keeping our jobs."
"Cook, you are not taking the blame for any of what happened here. This is all on me."
"Let me at least try. I'll text him to see if he's still here. He can come take a look. You got my phone?"
I patted my front pockets. My empty front pockets. My eyes rounded, and fear shot lasers up my spine. Did I lay it down somewhere? I couldn't remember.