Chapter 7
“I think we got lucky,” Hugh said mid-morning on Monday.
“How so?” Ansel asked from a few feet away.
“It occurred to me, if our cabin had a root cellar, maybe this one did, too.”
They were at the ruined cabin, and had begun moving more of the fallen walls, in search of anything metal they could use to protect the chimney from rain and snow. Hugh had been tapping the floor, as he had at his cabin, searching, as he’d said, for a possible root cellar—and heard a hollow reverberation under two of the boards. He used the blade of the axe to pry them up, revealing a deep hole. There were or had been shelves—most of them lying broken on the earthen floor, now.
Using the LED light on his multi-tool, Hugh scanned the area. The light reflected off something. Probably broken glass, but
