Page 97 of A Little Luck

My mother’s house is the only one that’s very clearly ancient. It’s tall and narrow, hidden behind trees, and she’s never cared a minute for fixing it up. All of her attention has always been on her work underground.

Shoving my hands into the pockets of my hoodie, I walk up the sidewalk. It’s a chilly morning, and like always when I visit here, all my old feelings of embarrassment from high school creep up my shoulders, making me want to sink even further into my jacket.

My mother and this place and everything about my life was always so intensely cringey to me growing up. None of my friends cared, but oh, how I did.

Looking back, I wonder if that’s why I allowed Rex to treat me the way he did. Did I believe I somehow didn’t deserve better?

Dry twigs crunch under my boots, and saplings have sprung up all the way to the front door. It’s not a new phenomenon. The front walk has never been swept or weeded or cleared, and if it weren’t for the cedar planks lining the dark-green exterior, it probably would’ve rotted away years ago.

The lights are off inside, and it looks like no one is home. I’m not fooled by this. My mother has always lived as if she were in hiding, and whenever I asked about it, she’d give me some paranoid answer.Never be too easy to find, or some such nonsense.

Lord knows, we have to stay hidden from the zombies.

Cupping my hands around the window, I peer inside. The living room is empty, so I try the front door. It’s locked, and I don’t have my key.

I walk around to the back where her old green truck is parked under the carport.

The house is the shape of a small box with equally small, square windows. It’s rumored to have been the carriage house of a much larger mansion that burned to the ground years and years ago, before the Stones and the Brewers and the Belles and the rest of the original families founded Eureka.

“Mom?” I call, opening the dark-green wooden door.

I expect to find her in her elaborate cellar canning vegetables or listening to her CB radio for important updates from the network.

To be honest, I was kind-of relieved when I grew up and discovered there was a vast network of doomsday preppers in the world. I’d spent most of my childhood thinking my mother was mentally ill. Then I found out she’s the okay kind of paranoid, because who knows? An incurable virus could break out or zombies could attack or civilization could completely fall apart one day.

I mean, to her credit, things have gotten pretty unpredictable in the last few years.

“Mom?” My voice is louder, and I go to the narrow door beside the refrigerator.

If you’d never been here, you’d think it’s simply a broom closet or a pantry—extra storage. Having grown up in this house, I know it’s a portal to another world.

Pulling the door open, I yell to the underground. “Mom, are you down there?”

Still no answer, and a sliver of worry filters through my chest.

Jogging down the steps, I flick on the light. Dim yellow bulbs illuminate a long corridor that curves around and down the farther it goes. To my right is a cabinet holding an assortment of rifles, gas masks, walkie-talkies, and a satellite phone for easy grabbing.

Rows of shelves stretch along both walls holding industrial-sized cans of beans and tomato sauce. Giant cans of lard sit on top shelves, and there’s so much toilet paper.

“Mom?” I pick up an unusual-looking radio, which I’m sure is specially designed for the end of the world. “Are you down here?”

I don’t really like this place. It might make my mother feel safe, but it makes me claustrophobic. If I weren’t afraid she might have fallen or had some sort of accident, I’d come back later with the boys and let them search for her. Theyloverunning around Grandma Martha’s hideout.

Taking a deep breath, I pick up the pace and stride all the way down and around and around, to the very end of her bunker. All the way to the stacked metal beds with scratchy green, Army-surplus wool blankets tucked tightly over thin mattresses.

The place is empty. I even look under the beds to be sure.

Confident she’s not here, I hustle out of this nightmare, all the way back to the surface where normal humans live.

Only now I’m worried.Where is she?

I pull out my phone and send Britt a quick text.

She’s not at her house.

Britt

That’s weird. Need Aiden’s help?