THE SHELTER

1956

To reach the entrance, Evelyn left the house through the back door in the kitchen, padded down the cinder block steps that descended along the rear wall into a crumbling mossy stairwell, hopped over the metal grating with the steam pipe snaking underneath, opened a second door, squeezed through the dank cellar past the rumbling washing machine, ducked beneath layers of hanging laundry, turned a final darkened corner, and emerged at last into her father’s basement workshop. Dozens of tools hung from hooks on the walls. Stacks of wood rose on every side to the ceiling.

Richard stooped under the single naked bulb, a rocking chair perched atop his workbench. He held a paintbrush in one hand. An open can of stain stood open on the table.

Evelyn crossed the room to the plywood panel propped against the far wall. An old kerosene lantern rested high on a shelf. She stretched up on her toes, brought the lantern down, and placed it on the floor at her feet. Then she knelt and flipped the lever that raised the glass globe, retrieved a box of matches from a nearby carton, struck one, and carefully touched the flame to the wick. She adjusted the screw at the base of the cage until the fire glowed white.

The plywood panel was heavier than it looked. Evelyn tugged and wriggled, tottered and heaved, until at last the panel gave way, slid with a deafening groan across the floor, and came to rest a few feet wide of the opening. She leaned over, grasped the lantern by the bail, held it straight out in front of her, and entered the shelter in a low crouch.

Light from the lantern cast long spinning shadows along the walls as she advanced. Built entirely of great sheets of corrugated metal bolted to a concrete shell, the tunnel extended forward about ten paces before opening out into a wide cylindrical chamber. Three iron steps led down to the curved floor.

She descended the steps into the shelter. She hopped up onto a crate that stood in the center of the floor, wobbled momentarily, then lifted her arms and hung the lantern on a metal hook screwed into the ceiling. All around her stood cans and mason jars, tubes of paint, rags, pencils, brushes, knives, as well as a huge square canvas that masked the entire back wall.

Evelyn hopped back down to the floor, gazed up at the broad, blank surface of the canvas. She took a step forward, crouched down, and snapped on the fan. A slow steady wind blew backward through the tunnel.

With a flourish she took up in her left hand the oval scrap of cardboard that served as her palette. One by one, she squeezed out generous dollops of paint from the tubes scattered on the floor. Then she wiped her right hand across the bib of her overalls, plucked a long paintbrush from a nearby jar, and stood at attention before the canvas.

In the beginning was the river.

Somewhere in the depths of the ancient mountain, when first sunlight touched its uppermost peak, a sudden fountain sprang flowering forth, shattering shale and boulder. Downward it poured through crease and crevice, bubbling, flashing, until at last it reached a crystal precipice—and, roaring, cascaded over.

In the valley below, where clear pools now swelled among the stones, billows of mist rolled slowly away. Soon a jagged gorge was formed; carving its way through dune and desert, the river coursed through it. On every side, as the waters passed, bathing the brittle soil, grass and trees and flowers took root, covered the face of the globe.

Now the land lay lush with greenery. Butterflies scissored the air. The broad fields rustled with deer and june bugs and cute little bunny rabbits.

Suddenly, in the center of the river, at a point where the current eddied, swirling slow between the banks, a man’s head bobbed to the surface, his face a mask of dumbstruck terror. He opened his mouth, sucked his first breath of air, then let out a wail of epic length and brittle, soul-shattering volume.

The trees trembled. The sky darkened. The cute little bunny rabbits darted frantically for their holes.

When he’d finally exhausted himself and could scream no more, the man floated silent for a while. He raised his arms above the surface and thrashed them about. By a process of trial and error, he eventually achieved an awkward paddling motion.

After swimming in circles for a few infuriating minutes, he made his way toward shore. Once there, he reached out, clutched a sturdy branch that protruded from the clay, and hauled himself out of the water. He stood on the bank, dripping but giddy with triumph. He brandished his fist at the sun.

Then he fell face down into the mud.

For a long time the man did not move. Hours passed, shadows lengthened. Otherwise nothing happened—until the river began to boil and foam in the same spot from which the man had emerged.

Soon another figure ascended through the water. Clad in a white silk cocktail dress and holding an enormous Japanese fan in one hand, she stood a few inches above the surface, perfectly dry, in a posture of solemn dignity. She stepped forward, glided effortlessly to the bank, and climbed to the place where the man still lay, filthy and inert.

She stared at him in woeful disbelief, nudged his shoulder with her big toe. “Hello?” she said. “Excuse me?” When this approach failed to rouse him, she adopted a firmer tone. “Hey, buddy! Wake up! What the hell’s the matter with you?”

The man stirred. He lifted his head. His face was slathered with mud.

Suddenly a flood of water poured in, sloshing the sides of the shelter. Soon the whole room was submerged. Evelyn saw fish and eels and manta rays moving in time with the current. Vast chambers of empty ocean, revealed now and again by flashes of light, opened before her.

A cluster of iridescent jellyfish glided by, their hoods rippling. Later she glimpsed the smooth flank of a shark. An immense coral mountain range appeared, its sheer cliffs glittering.

On the ocean floor, she saw a sprawling glass city. Ablaze with light but otherwise deserted, it lay like a great foundered space ship.

Then a dark shadow fell across her back. She turned just in time to see a hideous sea monster glowering at her with idiot eyes. The creature snorted twin jets of bubbles, opened its jaws, then sucked her abruptly into its mouth.

The mountain, which before had cast forth life-giving water, now exploded into a roaring volcano. Towering streams of lava spewed into the air. The ground shuddered. Soon the lava collapsed in on itself and ran in glowing streaks down the mountain’s sides. Billows of black smoke tumbled from its peak.

By the time the tremors ceased and the mountain again stood silent, a wall of congealed lava, blanketed by a thick layer of ash, oozed across the plain. Long slashes of searing orange flashed briefly through sudden cracks before sealing over again as the wall advanced.

The lava reached the bank, slid forward into the water. A curtain of white steam rose with an angry hiss. Then the lava hardened and cooled—leaving behind a vast expanse of lumpy, rippled stone.

From where she stood on the other side, the woman regarded these events with dismay. Hands on her hips, she surveyed the land now split into two opposing halves.

Deep inside the monster’s belly, low rumblings and troubled groans echoed through the darkness. A blaze of light flared behind Evelyn’s head. Flames sprang up on every side.

First the eyes appeared—hundreds of pairs, hard and unblinking, lodged in the heads of creatures cloaked by a curtain of smoke. As the monster’s mounting progress through the sea exerted a steady pull in Evelyn’s gut, the faces of ghouls and banshees melted into view, thrusting toward her through walls of flesh like skeletons trapped behind wet sheets.

The ugliest face hung closest. Hairy and carbuncled, with a cruelly twisted mouth, it dangled from the roof of the monster’s belly on a cord of ropy tissue. Hovering before her, green eyes blazing, it curled back its lips and snarled.

Evelyn reached down and wrapped her fingers around the handle of a knife. She sprang forward, arm extended, and plunged the blade into the dangling head’s ear. The creature shrieked in pain.

Evelyn felt the huge body of the monster jolt. As the head withered to a scaly, blackened stalk, the throat that had swallowed her opened its gates once more.

Eventually, the man came to. Lifting his head once more from the muck, he smelled on the breeze the stench of charred vegetation. He turned to see the whole ravaged landscape on the other side of the river. Then he set out across the hilly pasture in search of the vanished woman.

Many days passed. The only sound save the man’s labored breathing was the whisper of the wind. Mountain ranges rose and fell, gave way to barren desert. Buzzards circled overhead.

He found himself standing before a pyramid of bright, multicolored stones. An underground passage opened at its base. At its apex, on a small platform just above the man’s head, stood a duck.

The bird opened its yellow bill. “Say, pal, looks like you could use a little help,” said the duck. “I’d wager it’s a good thing you found me when you did. Because, truly, I’m not your ordinary duck.”

The man blinked. “Oh yeah?”

The duck wagged its downy head. “Nosireebob. You ever met a duck like me before? I’d wager you haven’t. Fact is, I’m a psychic duck. You ever seen the beat?”

The man sighed. “Nope. Never.”

The duck quacked. “You’re darn tootin’. Say, I bet I could guess what it is you’re looking for. Let’s give it a whirl, shall we? I’d wager you’re looking for—just a moment . . . I’m getting something . . . something very clear indeed . . . yes, I’ve got it—a buried treasure!”

The man’s eyes widened. “Where is it?”

The duck hopped up and down with glee. “Buried treasure! Buried treasure! Buried treasure! Buried treasure!”

The man reached up, grabbed the duck by its skinny neck, and pulled it very close to his face. He whispered firmly, “Where?”

The duck trembled. “Why, under the stones, of course.”

The man’s eyes dropped to the tunnel entrance yawning at his feet.

Evelyn sailed headlong through the air, then plunged into a sand dune. Turning back, she saw the great snout of the sea monster tilt against the waves, then sink in a glittering froth of bubbles. She tasted the salt air sweeping across the beach.

The landscape changed rapidly as she traveled, stepping gingerly around seedlings and squat, fleshy mushrooms. The trees grew black and slick with moisture. Their glossy leaves hung heavy on the branches. A cool mist floated low over the ground, and bright clusters of flowers grew in scattered patches, flecking the earth with color.

Evelyn raced through the woods. Grainy spokes of light pierced the latticed canopy overhead. As she dashed through each slanting beam, the sun flashed white against her face. Then her toe caught beneath a root. She toppled forward, limbs flailing, and landed in a pile of wet leaves.

She looked up and saw just ahead of her a jagged shelf of lichen-speckled stone. A dark hole opened beneath it. Evelyn rose to her knees and brushed the front of her overalls with her hands—when a yellow bird came darting out of the hole and spun upward through the trees. She scrambled to her feet, stepped forward, and lowered her head into the damp, inviting darkness.

Crawling on his belly through the narrow tunnel, the man had long since lost his bearings. He believed the tunnel moved steadily downward, possibly in a spiral. At last he saw a dim red glimmer in the distance.

He soon reached the end of the tunnel, which opened out into a vast cavern lit by pools of fire. Skulls and ribcages lay scattered about. He crawled out of the tunnel, stood up, and looked around. A stone staircase curved down along the wall to his right. He hitched up his trousers, then began his descent to the cave floor.

In the center of the room stood a weird contraption of steel and wire and tattered leather straps. Its metal platform was studded with spikes. A gleaming headpiece mounted at one end glittered with primitive electronic hardware.

He climbed up onto the table, stretched out on his back, and inserted his head into the metal crown. As the bands tightened around his skull and the leather straps snaked over his limbs, the man stared up at the vaulted, stony ceiling. Several minutes passed. Then a loud hum swelled in his ears, followed by a click—and an explosion of blazing sparks that showered his awestruck body.

Evelyn wandered through endless subterranean corridors. Mounted torches lined the walls. Through cracks between boulders, she saw bottomless chasms and lakes of still, black water. High above her, long stalactites descended from the ceiling.

On a distant rock pile, she spotted a wolf. Its gray fur bristled. From its belly hung two rows of pink fleshy teats. The animal’s eyes glinted in the firelight.

Evelyn stopped. She regarded the wolf warily, then took a step toward it. The wolf jerked its head downward. Again Evelyn moved closer. This time the animal turned until it faced the opposite direction, then looked back.

Evelyn set out toward the rock pile and followed the wolf as it led her deeper into the cave. The wolf traveled quickly, always well ahead of her, hanging back just enough to stay within sight. The pair crossed gaping valleys, edged along cliff faces, clambered over toppled slabs, and squeezed through precarious, twisting tunnels.

They reached an arch of rock that bridged a gigantic canyon. By the time Evelyn arrived, the wolf was already halfway across. She watched in alarm as the animal trotted over the narrow path, then turned back on the far side to watch.

Evelyn froze. The cracked, rounded stones were too frightening. The wolf snarled, then barked sharply. Evelyn stared into its eyes. Then, her gaze locked on the wolf’s, she inched out onto the bridge. Step by step, her skinny arms extended, she crossed.

Then she was safe on the other side. The wolf guided her to a wide doorway, beyond which lay a brightly lit room. With its head, the wolf nudged her toward it.

Evelyn stooped to wrap her arms around the animal’s neck. But the wolf lifted its snout, pinched Evelyn’s brow in its teeth, and snipped a clean wound between her eyes. Evelyn leaped back. Blood trickled warm down both sides of her nose. The wolf disappeared.

As soon as she entered the room, she saw the man lying motionless on the table. She approached carefully, but the man did not stir. At last she stood beside him, staring down at his wan, weathered face. Just as she lifted her hand to stroke his jaw, the man’s eyes opened. He turned and blinked at Evelyn, then rose to a sitting position. He swiveled his body, dropped his legs over the table’s edge. His huge feet dangled.

“What are you doing here, mister?” Evelyn said. “Golly, you don’t look so good.”

The man touched his palm to his temple. “Don’t feel so good, either,” he said. “I can’t remember a thing.”

Evelyn clucked her tongue. “Don’t be silly. You’ve just got amnesia, that’s all.”

The man looked Evelyn up and down. “Is that a fact? Well, since you know so much, can you tell me how to get out of this place?”

Evelyn lifted a finger. “Nothing could be simpler. We’ll go through the trapdoor underneath the table here.”

The man shrugged. Then, with one knotty knuckle, he wiped the blood drying between Evelyn’s eyes. “What happened to your face, little girl? Looks like somebody chopped you with a hatchet.”

Evelyn smacked his hand away. “Never you mind about that! If you want to get out of here alive, you’ll have to follow me. Understood?”

The man chuckled. “Sure thing,” he said. “Lead the way.”

Evelyn crawled under the table, lifted the trapdoor, and dropped through. The man scooted in behind her. His head disappeared, swallowed by the darkness—then his arm thrust back up, groped about, clutched the handle on the underside of the door, and pulled it shut with a clang.