Wild Fiction

A path lead from the forest on the far side, through the clearing and straight into a pile of dead branches lying against the bank he had fallen down. Tyre tracks, too thick for a bicycle but too thin for a car or motorbike, lined the path. James pulled at the lock of hair that flopped over his forehead and stared at the tracks. They did not stop at the dead branches but ran underneath them. He cocked his head to one side and held his breath. All he could hear were the sounds of birds far away. He waited a moment before moving forward, out from the trees that were hiding him.
The branches fanned out systematically across the bank. He pulled them away, starting from the right and placed each one on the side of the path in strict order. He could already see the door before he had removed the last branch. An arc of scraped earth showed him that the door opened outwards. He twisted the handle and pulled. The bottom of the door dragged across the ground, moving more dirt as it did so. A dry musty air wafted out and filled his nose, reminding him of his grandfather’s wine cellar when he was a child. He bent down to get through the three-quarter sized doorway and looked in. The ceiling was high and his steps echoed on the concrete floor inside. He moved to the side to stop his body from blocking too much light. When his eyes became accustomed to the dimness of the room, he could make out boxes, tea chests, and large framed paintings up against the walls. Everything was stacked neatly with passages to walk between the boxes. Forklift palettes held the boxes several inches above the floor. He could see a light at the far end of the room coming from the ceiling.
‘Genevieve,’ he called out. He waited but there was no response and he moved forward towards the light. Genevieve’s body was slumped over a crate. ‘Genevieve, Genevieve,’ James shouted as he shook her. She murmured something and opened her eyes.
‘What happened?’ she asked as James helped her up.
‘Sit here, how do you feel?’
‘I feel okay, I must have fainted,’ she put her hand on her stomach and rubbed it from side to side.
‘Is your stomach sore?’
‘No, I’m just worried about the baby. That fall couldn’t have been good for it,’ she smiled at him. ‘I’m sure it’ll be all right,’ she looked around. ‘You found the door, well done, was it easy?’
‘Sort off,’ James rubbed his back and stood up straight. ‘Where’s the mobile? Let’s call the other two.’
Genevieve put her hand in her pocket, pulled out a piece of broken plastic, and handed it to James. ‘Wait there’s more,’ she said and pulled out a small circuit board and a handful of buttons numbered zero to nine. There was also a rectangular battery and an LCD screen with a spider web crack on it. She piled it all into James’s cupped hands.