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One particular door in the hallway strikes me as different. Maybe it’s the cold air seeping out from under it, or perhaps it’s the way the hinges look like they haven’t been used since the house was built, but I can tell it’s different. It can’t just be another closet, though I’ve already found several of those where I feel like they don’t need to be.
“Okay, let’s take a little peek,” I whisper to myself as I approach it and lay my hand on the doorknob.
This doorknob is also different from the others in the house, built from heavy brass with a large keyhole in the center. I turn it, expecting it to be locked, or perhaps hoping it is, but it moves easily, like the rusted hinges were only an illusion and this room was used just yesterday.
I pull it open, bracing myself for some unforeseen terror, but I’m met only by velvet darkness. Of course, why would there be anything else?
My hand runs along the wall inside for a light switch, but there is none. I switch to my phone, the bright LED light revealing a set of wooden stairs with no end in sight. Should I go down there? It feels like I’d be walking into a black hole.
But something in me wants to check it out. It’smyhouse after all. I’m the ruler of this domain, and I shouldn’t shy away from my own basement. That would be absurd, and I’m so level-headed that it hurts sometimes.
I open the door further to make sure it doesn’t swing closed behind me, testing the first stair with my foot to make sure it can hold my weight. Nothing moves. It feels surprisingly sturdy, like the entire staircase is carved from one solid slab of oak.
I suck in a deep breath and take another step, walking down into the darkness to face my fears alone.
3
Avraam
It’s better that I’m doing this at night to avoid getting caught, but I’m also going to avoid getting saved if a cougar pounces on me and rips my throat out while I’m trying to bring the bucket up from the well.
It’s almost too heavy to retrieve, but that’s the way I planned it. The rope creaks and groans, but the nylon fibers are tight and capable of holding the load as I ease it up. Anyone else would assume it was stuck because of the sheer amount of force it takes to turn the crank, but I doubt anyone has even tried.
Twenty-five years, and not a single soul has touched this well. I chose this location for a reason, and I’m glad to discover that, even in my youth, I was capable of makingsomegood decisions.
I do wish I’d have chosen a spot further from the woods, however. The risk of being attacked from behind rises with every moment I spend turning this goddamn crank. It’d be ironic to die on the day I got out of prison.
But aside from the occasional rustle of the trees and groaning from the rope as I turn the aging wooden handle attached to it, I’m the only beast who dares step out into the open. Maybe it’s better that the weather sucks. The rain has everyone hiding away at home, and I didn’t pass a single car on the way here.
Thirty miles. I used to pace around my cell preparing for this day. I must’ve walked the earth’s circumference a thousand times, but the ground was smooth and easy then. This time, the mud and rocks make my feet ache.
My heart slams into my chest as the bucket finally comes into view. It’s blackened with age, and shimmering with slimy mildew. It almost looks like an alien lifeform, and the water inside the bucket is far from drinkable. It’s pungent and sour.
I grab the bucket, ignoring the black slime that oozes between my fingers as I pull it away from the darkness of the well. I shine the two-dollar flashlight I bought from the last gas station I stopped at on it, confirming that everything is still there.
A glint of gold on the underside of the bucket all but confirms my treasure is safe.
My fingers curl around the heavy gold block adhered to the underside of the bucket with zip ties and enough wood glue to build a house. I’m surprised that it’s so hard to pry off after all these years, but I’m thankful at the same time. I would’ve had to climb down the well to get it had it come loose, and there’s no guarantee I’d have made it back up.
I have no phone, no possible means to call for help.
I’m a loner, and it’s going to stay that way until I break this gold up and sell enough of it to put a team together.
Not that I really trust anyone after what went down when I was arrested. Everyone in my Family abandoned me, and not a single person came to my defense during that trial. It was short and brutal, bordering on illegal, but nobody cared for the young man who had just committed the heinous crime of homicide.
The only things that acted in my favor were that I was young and good-looking. The judge showed no emotion when she handed down the twenty-five-year sentence, something I believed I would beat eventually, even if I had to do half of it behind bars.
I was lucky, yes, but notthatlucky. I served the full three-hundred months and not a day less.
Was it worth it? I still can’t figure that out as I pry the gold block off the underside of the bucket. It comes off with a splintering crack, taking fragments of wood away with it.
My hand shakes as I drop the bucket and hold the gold block up to my flashlight, tarnished yellow smiling at me like that one prison guard with the gold teeth. I’m surprised nobody ever tried to rip them out of his mouth.
I test the weight of the gold in my hand, trying to estimate how much it is. I don’t think I ever weighed it. I just bought as much gold as I could with the cash I had, melted it down, and hid it in the well. The cash I couldn’t convert to gold was hidden under the basement of a house not too far from here.
I tuck the gold inside my jacket, turning away from the well and continuing down the old dirt road back to civilization like none of this ever happened. I estimate I have about five kilograms in my pocket, and at the current spot price I’d say it’s worth a few hundred-thousand dollars.
Twenty-five years ago, gold would be a quarter of that price, but then again, inflation is a bitch. I’ve already spent most of my fifty dollars on food and water, so my first move after shaving off a bit of gold to sell is to get myself a proper meal.
