Chapter 29
When Joe burst through the door, Mary was already half buried in pots and pans.
She stopped digging through a cupboard underneath the kitchen sink. Her head sprung up, and she fixed him with a glare. “We need to put this somewhere where it won’t cause problems.”
Between the two of them, they lifted the beanbag, opened drawers, pulled suitcases and clothing from closets, lifted cushions off the booth, searched the bathroom—appearing rather foolish. Adriana was confused. If they really were scared, why didn’t they just destroy the box? They could break it into a hundred pieces with a hammer or run over it with their car.
Maybe they couldn’t let out what was inside.
She wondered what the inscription on its lid meant. Inside Out. Was it instructions to turn your clothing inside out? What good would that do? You would look pretty foolish with your socks, skirt, and shirt inside out. People might even laugh at you.
Maybe it meant that what was on the inside should come out. Or was the inside a passageway to an outer dimension? Maybe it was a time warping device where on the inside you could go outside this time to the future or past.
She sighed. Maybe it meant nothing. These people were crazy, after all.
As though the box could not be trusted, Mary held it high with one hand during their search of the mobile home. Her hair became messy from her other hand running through it, nervously throwing her head about, and bending down so many times. “The wood feels hot, Joe,” she said with tremors. “I can’t hold it any longer.”
He backed away from her. “I don’t want it. Give it to Cindy.”
Cindy just continued with that glazed look, not having moved since after her mother came into the room.
“No, you piece of shit! How could you say that?”
He breathed hard as he looked around.
“There has to be a place. Somewhere safe.”
The entire room was becoming a garbage dump, stuff pulled out of cabinets, pulled out of drawers, moved out of storage bins, littering the floor.
“Where can it go?” Mary screamed.
Adriana almost began laughing, but she held it for fear of drawing attention to herself. She found it utterly ridiculous how such a little box could affect these adults.
“Give me it,” Joe finally conceded. He took it and put it in a corner of the room and began stacking canned fruit and packaged powdered milk around and on top of it. After the pile became four feet high, he stated, “There,” but then he got an anxious look in his face, spun around several times, and quickly dug it out, spilling cans and cartons as he reached in and retrieved the box. He threw it back to Mary.
Furious, she exclaimed, “Get Hank. He’ll know where to put it.”
Joe left the room in a hurry, and Mary kept the box as far away from herself as her extended arms would allow.