04-11-2019, 03:20 PM
He hoped, after tossing his question down the stairwell and lurching back like something might fly out at him in response, for silence. Even the ominous subterranean silence that was the only kind he could imagine coming from the cellar. Silence, and he could shut the door and find a more comfortable place than that chair to sleep off headache he could sense impending just beyond the edges of his sight.
Instead he got a “yes” and a surge of exasperation tempered with a level of apprehension at the idea of anyone being down there that, rationally, was unwarranted: it was a damn wine cellar. Presumably going up and down had been a commonplace activity when the house was lived-in, and it wasn’t as if Near had ever been the type to balk at a musty basement before. Hell, he’d lived in basement apartments that were probably more sinister than what was really down there.
But now he had to count Jude among what was down there. Of course he was down there, because whatever else he might be, whether he was making an effort to or not, he excelled at pushing Near’s buttons, and the wine cellar was a giant red button Near was trying not to direct too much thought toward. Wasn’t he supposed to have gone home by now?
“Why?” he yelled back, not scratchily enough to disguise the fact that no answer would ever satisfy the question. Then, without waiting, louder, “Come back up.”
Instead he got a “yes” and a surge of exasperation tempered with a level of apprehension at the idea of anyone being down there that, rationally, was unwarranted: it was a damn wine cellar. Presumably going up and down had been a commonplace activity when the house was lived-in, and it wasn’t as if Near had ever been the type to balk at a musty basement before. Hell, he’d lived in basement apartments that were probably more sinister than what was really down there.
But now he had to count Jude among what was down there. Of course he was down there, because whatever else he might be, whether he was making an effort to or not, he excelled at pushing Near’s buttons, and the wine cellar was a giant red button Near was trying not to direct too much thought toward. Wasn’t he supposed to have gone home by now?
“Why?” he yelled back, not scratchily enough to disguise the fact that no answer would ever satisfy the question. Then, without waiting, louder, “Come back up.”