Charles made his way to the trap door and climbed down first. Virginia followed and began to make her way down.
"Careful, now," she heard him say from below. "This is the worst ladder in the world.
Virginia placed her feet through the door and onto the first step of the ladder. Carefully, she climbed down. She had gripped the ladder with her hands when she heard the first creaking noise. She stopped for a moment and then climbed down with even more caution. She made it down one step. Then to the next. Then to the—
SNAP!
The step below her foot broke in half. The ladder slid towards the two-by-four railing and would soon be over the edge. The next stop was a forty-foot drop.
Suddenly, she felt two strong hands grab her by the waist. Instantly, she was pulled off the ladder and away from the edge. The ladder continued to fall. It slid over the edge and plummeted to the floor. There was a brief moment of silence followed by the sound of wood and concrete colliding.
Virginia was in shock and still shaking. Am I alive?
A few seconds passed before she realized the same pair of hands still held her waist. She opened her eyes and saw Charles's hands fastened firmly onto her. He held her close, away from the edge of the platform. She saw that his eyes were just as worried as hers.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
Virginia remained staring up at him. "…I-I think so…"
Charles slowly let her go, ensuring she could stand on her own two feet. "You're sure, now?"
Virginia was standing without any assistance. "Yes. Yes, I'm okay."
Charles let out a little timid laugh. "Oh, boy! That was quite a scare, huh?"
"Yeah. Yeah, it was…"
"…Well, we should probably continue down."
Virginia blinked her eyes and shook her head. Come out of it, Virginia! "Yeah, you're right."
With Charles in the lead, they walked down the stairs together. As they reached the bottom, Virginia stopped to look at the broken pieces of the ladder that remained on the concrete floor. She would have been with it, too, if not for Charles. She turned her head back at him.
"Thank you," she said.
Charles smiled. "Of course!"
He opened the door to the tower, walked out, and held it open for Virginia, who followed closely.
She pulled his jacket over her shoulders and followed Charles to the Bronco.
Upon reaching the truck, he opened the driver's door and popped the hood. Then, walking around, he raised the mouth of the beast wide open.
"Does the Bronco have a rod to brace the hood open?" he asked. "I don't see one connected to the truck."
"Oh, wait!" exclaimed Virginia. She ran to the bed of the truck, reached in, and pulled out a metal broom rod. "Would this do?"
Charles laughed at the sight of the broom rod. "A classic support! I'll wager money that your uncle left it back there for this very purpose."
He braced the rod up underneath the hood of the truck for support.
Charles spent the next several minutes looking through the Bronco's engine. The sleeves of his white shirt became covered with black stains. Virginia felt bad.
He ruined his shirt. "Listen, you don't have to do this."
"Oh, no! I'm not stopping now!" he said comically.
"But your shirt. Aren't you afraid of ruining it?"
"What? And leave you here without a working truck? Where's the sacrifice?"
She pulled his jacket over her shoulders even closer and smiled at him.
"Ah! Found it!" he said at last.
"What? What is it?"
Charles pulled a long black band out of the engine and held it up for Virginia to see. "This is your serpentine belt. See how it's in one long strand?"
"Yes."
"It's supposed to be in a circle—like a band. It must have broken sometime recently—possibly as you pulled into this parking spot."
"Oh…Will the truck still work?"
"I think it will be okay, but it's not going anywhere without a new belt. I can put one on when we get it back to your uncle's barn."
Just then, a pair of headlights pulled into the parking lot of Mason High. Virginia noticed the truck instantly.
"It's my uncle!" she said excitedly.
Andrew parked his truck up behind Virginia's Bronco and got out to greet them both. Virginia ran up and hugged her uncle. Andrew stood frozen for a few seconds and returned her hug by wrapping his big arms around her.
"Well, now," he exclaimed, "It's good to see you, too, Honey! What got you so excited?"
Oh, a lot! "Nothing," she replied.
Andrew looked up at Charles. "Hey, Charles! Did you find the problem with the truck by any chance?"
Charles held out the broken belt for Andrew to see.
"Ah! That'll do it."
He looked down at Virginia. "Honey, why don't you hop into the truck and warm yourself up? I need to talk with Charles about something for a second."
Virginia turned loose of her uncle and walked around to the passenger door. Before she reached out to open it, she remembered Charles's jacket. She slowly took it off. She walked back around, approached Charles, and handed him back his jacket. Charles extended the palm of his hand, refusing to take it.
"Keep it," he said. "You'll need it out here."
A big smile crossed Virginia's face, and she could not help but hug him. "Thank you."
She walked to the passenger door and got inside the big, white truck.
Andrew walked closer to Charles. "How did things go today? Anything to be concerned about?"
Charles reached into the Bronco and pulled out the keys. A stern look came over his face as he held them out for Andrew to take. "She knows."
Andrew reached out and took the keys. "She knows what?"
"About Alaythia."
Andrew smirked and waved his hand in the air. "Oh, there's no reason to be worried about that. Alaythia is something that many in this town talk about."
Charles grabbed a piece of paper from his notebook and wrote on it. "No, you don't understand. There's more."
He handed the note to Andrew. "Don't read it out loud."
Andrew read over the note in his hand: "She says she found a diary written by Rose Cohen in your house. She told me herself."
He looked up at Charles with steady eyes. "What? Where in the house did she find it?"
"She didn't say. What now?"
"It happened for a reason, Charles. Like you, I'm concerned, but we must remember that the rule of this matter is in higher hands than yours or mine. We will continue to trust Oralmuti and not worry. However, we will continue to stand on guard even more."
"I already am," said Charles.
Andrew turned and looked at his niece, who was sitting in the truck wrapped in her new jacket. She quickly turned her head away when she saw her uncle spotted her looking out the window at Charles.
Andrew turned his head back towards Charles and smiled. "Yeah, I can see that you are taking 'extra caution' while protecting my niece."
A familiar color arose in Charles's cheeks. "Oh, stop! I'm only doing this—I mean, my only concern is—I mean…."
He saw that nothing was persuading Andrew, who was now laughing. "Oh, just stop! You're reading too deeply into it again!"
"Son, I've been on this earth for a long time! So don't you start telling me what is clearly before my eyes."
"Andrew, please! What makes you think that she even—"
"Here's how I know."
Andrew walked over to the driver's door of his truck and opened it. "Virginia, I won't be able to take the truck into the shop until late tomorrow afternoon. So, you won't be able to drive yourself to school tomorrow morning. Would you be okay if Charles took you himself?"
Virginia's face lit up. "Yes! Yes, that's fine!"
Andrew turned his head back towards Charles and raised one eyebrow. Charles stood there with wide eyes staring back at him.
Andrew looked back at Virginia. "Okay, Honey. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay with it."
He closed the door and looked back at Charles with a big grin stretching from ear to ear underneath his bushy mustache.
Charles's dark skin went completely white.
"Are you going to continue to argue with me anymore, son?" dared Andrew.
At the silent reply of the boy, Andrew continued, "Be at my house to pick her up by 6:00 a.m. and not one second later."
With nothing further to say, Andrew reopened his truck door and hopped inside. The powerful engine of the diesel truck roared as he and Virginia drove off the school property, leaving Charles behind, still frozen in his spot.
"Smooth," he finally said. "Very smooth."
He went to the hood of the Bronco and pulled the metal broom handle out from the jaws of the old monster, closing it with a loud chomp. He placed the handle and the broken belt inside the vehicle, hand-locked the door, and closed it shut.
"…And granted, brilliant. Very smooth and brilliant."
He walked over to his truck and hopped in. Cranking up the engine, he drove off to his own home.
The sun had set entirely over the horizon. There was no one on the school grounds except one man dressed in dark clothing, standing in the shadows of the school building. His eyes glowed green in the night. The hood of his trench coat darkened the image of his face, shrouding his guise in the likeness of a phantom. He pulled a phone out of his pocket and made a call.
"It's me," he said. "I found her."