This is a work of fiction any similarities between the characters, events, or locations in this story and actual locations, events, or people are purely coincidental.
© 2004 Warlord
Krista looked around the large open space of the attic. The floor was covered with oak board. The walls were finished with shiplap. The ceiling was open, except for periodic spots where planks had been thrown over the joists to make added storage.
Here and there were haphazard scatterings of boxes, chests, and suitcases. The light was too dim for details.
I looked with my flashlight to find a source of electricity. I found an old-fashioned twist switch. Jan and Dan were probably right. They never were up here - at least in THIS time.
The attic electric wiring was “knob and tube.” That put the installation somewhere in the 1940’s, which would also be the time when rural electrification brought electricity to this area.
I twisted the switch, and lights hanging every ten feet down the center of the attic came on. At least some of them did. I walked along the wires and traced the route. There seemed to be no shorts or opens. Dan asked if it was safe.
“It should be fine. The ceramic posts are the knobs. They keep the wires separated and away from the attic wood. The concern would be the light fixtures. They were probably heavy duty in their day, so they keep the hot and neutral separated. Just plug in the work lights downstairs.”
Jan, by this time, was back with a stepladder and light bulbs. She replaced the dead bulbs, and the attic became a much brighter place. About this time Krista yelped.
I asked, “Is that the noise you make when you’re excited?”
J & D laughed and Krista flipped me the bird. She said, “Bring your drill. You may even find out the answer to your question if you decide to be a good boy.”
That was fairly arousing. Her smirk let me know that she knew it. I brought my drill.
She was in the farthest corner of the attic. She and Dan had moved some boxes. Krista was working the building corner with the detector. She said, “I get a strong signal, but in a small area.”
I got down on my hands and knees to inspect the flooring. I found the ubiquitous Torx on one set of boards. While Dan held the light, I began removing the screws. We used a thin chisel to pop up the board. Dan handed me the light, and I dug through the loose insulation, trying to feel for anything out of place. I found four small packages. I handed them to Dan and kept searching.
I decided to lightly run just my fingertips inside the joist space, feeling for any discrepancy. Just as I was about to quit, my fingernail caught on something. I told my three friends, “Somebody got tricky. They put the packages under the open area, then they placed something back under a part of the floor we did not open.”
Dan asked, “Want me to pry it up?”
“Give me a minute. Maybe I can get it without tearing things apart.”
They waited, more or less patiently, while I worked. I felt a wire binding the small, thin package in place. I gestured to Dan’s Leatherman Tool. He flipped it open and handed it to me. I was working by feel. I carefully cut the wire. Then I dragged the thin package to the floor opening.
Dan was opening the other packages. I opened mine. I found a small, thin, hardbound journal with a green cover. When I flipped it open at random I found the pages filled with the hieroglyphics of Krista’s shorthand language. “Jackpot, gang!”
Krista yelped again and launched herself into my arms. I was sprawled backwards with Krista on top of me. This was not altogether a bad thing.
Jan pulled us back into a sitting position to observe Dan’s packages. He unwrapped four straight bladed sheathe knives, each with a six inch blade with a false edge back about one-third of the way from the point . The knives had leather washer grips ending in a simple round pommel. The sheath enclosed the knife up to the pommel. The knife was removed from its enclosed sheath by pulling up on the round pommel.
Dan said, “I know why this knife is here. I would want a knife like this if I was going through that portal.”
Krista was examining the Journal. She was muttering and stammering. I finally said, “We need to get K into some decent light before she goes blind.”
With that, we left the attic. I shut off the lights. Dan led the way into the kitchen. Jan served us more lemonade and iced tea. We sat around the kitchen table, while Krista breathlessly translated. “I started this the first night. We went through the portal several times scouting, including tonight after midnight. We went through with big loads several times as well. It talks about several caches but doesn’t offer details. I wonder where we found this journal?”
Jan stood up and walked over to her cookbook shelf. She pulled an identical journal from among the cookbooks.
Dan said, “Okay, cue the spooky twilight zone music. I’m more and more convinced every second.”
Jan said, “How does this work? This book is blank. You already have a book with writing. When did you write in the book?”
Curiouser and curiouser. Dan said, “Let’s look around downstairs.”
We collected our tools and lights. Dan grabbed the detector. We went downstairs. We ignored the wrapped bundles from the stable as we looked for another cache. Dan got a major hit at the bottom of a column. Krista asked, “Chimney?”
”No. Chimney is over here.”
We looked around before we blasted a hole in something important (i.e. dangerous!) Then it hit me. “Dumbwaiter. A small elevator to move meals and stuff between floors.”
Everybody agreed. Dan relaxed and let off some steam. He pounded a hole in the side of the dumbwaiter shaft with a five-pound hammer. He had a substantial hole through the bricks in just a few moments. I tapped him before it got “too” big and caused a structural issue.
Jan slid in the hole with one of the trouble lights. She began scooping the dirt out on the floor. Quickly she found the first and then second layer of plastic. Right below that she began finding more plastic wrapped bank bags. She passed six bundles out.
Krista said, “Time to open the bundles and see what we left for us.”