“Ten pounds of shredded coconut, and ten pounds of flakes.”
“Yep.”
“Two dozen cans of pear halves in juice.”
Shay is quiet for so long that I look up from the list. She squints at the boxes, crouching down and rummaging through them.
“I don’t see any cans. Maybe they saw the other cans in the pantry and put them there?”
“I’ll check.”
I hop over a big package of paper towels and dodge boxes on my way to the pantry. Sure enough, there are more supplies. Alotmore supplies. I squeeze into the pantry, surrounded on all sides by more stuff.
The curse that spills from my mouth is unintentional, but not unwarranted.
I hear a scuffle, and a moment later, Shay appears in the doorway. “Are you oh—holy shit.”
She stares at the stacks of cans and cartons, open-mouthed.
“Where the hell are we going to put all this?” she asks, and I shrug, because I certainly don’t have the answers. She must see on my face how close I am to spiraling, because she quickly kneels down and continues, “We can probably stack these all more efficiently to save space. I’ll read out what we have, and you can check them off.”
“Sure.”
She calls out the can contents and quantities by the door, and I do my job, checking them off while she re-stacks them into slightly more organized piles. She slides them closer together, saving all of an inch of space, but it’s something.
Shay brushes the knees of her jeans. “We should take a coffee break. It’s going to be a long night.”
I agree, dropping the list and pen on top of the nearest box. I pull my phone out of my pocket to check the time, not paying attention to Shay as she stands up.
Until I hear a loud clank and an “ouch” as Shay’s toe connects with the wooden wedge that’s holding the door open.
I look up, eyes wide. “Be careful. Don’t let it?—”
I’m too late. Shay’s boot must have dislodged the stopper, and the door is too heavy, too fast, for her to grab it in time.
It closes with a loud thunk, plunging us into darkness. My phone and the crack between the door and the uneven stone floor are the only lights.
Shay immediately rushes forward, desperately trying to find the handle. She tugs the door, but I already know it won’t budge.
Shit.
“Noelle.” Her voice is shaky, cracking on the second syllable. “Can you help me, please? I need… Fuck, I need to get out of here. I can’t… Please.”
My heart races, more at Shay’s panic than the enclosed space. I move slowly toward her, trying not to panic her further.
She jumps out of her skin when I place a hand on her shoulder, turning her gently toward me.
“I need you to breathe, Shay. Copy me, okay?”
I take a deep breath, but she’s shaking, and I’m not sure she even hears it.
“I can’t… I can’t breathe. Please, Noelle. Help me open the door.”
I swallow, dreading her reaction to what I have to say. Steeling myself, I squeeze her shoulder. “I’m here, and I’ve got you. But it doesn’t open. We?—”
“What?” The word is a high-pitched sob, and Shay’s body lurches, like she’s going to pass out.
I don’t think; I just wrap my arms around her, holding her steady.
