Ronnie smiled a little at Phil’s remark. He turned off the flashlight to save the batteries. “We’ve certainly made a mess of everything, haven’t we?” Bill’s voice reached Ronnie from out of the darkness. “Let the glassware and money slip right out of our hands. Got ourselves trapped down here. Me with a busted leg. And I guess we’re about as far from saving the village as we ever were. Well, my pa says it’s always darkest before the dawn. Maybe things will get better from here on.”
The silence closed in again, except for the steady dripping of water against the flooded floor. It sounded to Ronnie as if a hundred distant bells of different pitch were all ringing at the same time. It was hard sitting here in the darkness, waiting ... wondering if they’d ever get out again.
“Ronnie?” Bill asked. “You suppose our folks are out looking for us now?”
“Maybe. Depending on how late it is. I’ve lost all idea of the time.”
“Nobody’ll ever find us down here,” Bill continued. “They won’t even look inside the padlocked building because they’ll see that the lock’s still on the door. I wish we could attract their attention somehow.”
“I’ve got plenty of matches left,” Phil announced. “Want me to burn down the building? Nobody could miss seeing that!”
Ronnie wasn’t sure if Phil was being serious, or if this was another of his attempts at humor. Whichever it was, Ronnie couldn’t go along with his brother’s suggestion. With the building on fire, the culvert was sure to fill with smoke and fumes, perhaps to the point where it might suffocate them. “No, Phil,” he told his brother, “that’s too risky.”
“Then how about just burning through the trap door?” Phil added. “How about that?”
Ronnie found himself shaking his head. “No, Phil. It would never stop with the trap door. Besides, I don’t think we’ve got enough kindling to get it started. No, we’ve got to think of a better way.”
“Then how about you putting out with a few?” Phil demanded of his brother.