The Little Black Book

Oh, my God! That cloud, looming over head was as black as coal. The wind was gusting. It seemed like it was blowing 90 miles per hour. My daughter, Lisa who is 5, is in my arms. The wind would have swept her away from me if I had not carried her. "We're almost there." I said to myself. A few yards away, is an underground shelter. It was designed for our neighborhood to have a safe-haven in the event that a menacing hurricane crept up to interfere with our lives. Today was that day. The wind was tearing at my face and trying to rip my daughter free from my arms. Now the rain began to pound on our bodies. We are only inches away from the shelter's door. I can see my neighbor, Mr. Taylor, beckoning for us and screaming, "Hurry, it's bearing down on you." Just as we reached the entrance of the door, the wind tried to lift me and my daughter into the air. I grabbed the side of the shelter's wall with one hand and flung myself and my daughter through the opening. We both landed on the floor. The door to the shelter slammed shut with a loud bang! My first instinct was to check to see if Lisa was okay after the fall. She was okay. "Beverly! I heard my name ring out. You made it." The Nelsons, the Browns, and the Taylors were already hunkered down and bracing themselves for the approaching hurricane.

The shelter had room for at least 20 people. We had stored water, non-perishable foods, and medical supplies earlier in the year for situations like this. There were vents on the sides of the shelter that had pipes that led up to the outside air. Mr. Brown was an engineer and he had designed the underground shelter. The bathroom was uniquely designed where the pipes led to the outside and the waste from the toilet was propelled out through the pipes when flushed. We had everything we needed: blankets, pillows, and sleeping bags. We had battery operated lights and extra batteries to last a year. There was no way for us to cook or refrigerate foods, so everything had to be nonperishable. I'm a nurse and Mr. Taylor is a doctor, so any medical emergencies that could crop up we figured one of us should be able to handle.

The storm was really beating against the top of the shelter's door. The wind was so strong, at times, I thought it would take the door off its hinges and carry it away with it. We were all hoping and praying that it wouldn't. That would leave us unprotected from the elements outside and put us in danger.

Everyone seemed to be settling in for the duration of the storm. We ate and everyone retired for the night. I had just drifted off into a sound sleep when something, a noise, woke me up. I opened one eye and looked around to see what had caused the noise. There in the corner of the shelter I saw Mr. Brown hovering over a tiny black book. It was so small I could not see what was in it from where I was sleeping. I pretended to be asleep as I watched him to see what he was doing. He seemed to be really interested in what was in that little black book. I heard him sigh and then he pressed ever so lightly on the wall next to him. It opened ever so slightly, and he eased the little black book back into its original position in the wall. He looked around to make sure no one was looking. I quickly closed both my eyes. My thoughts were moving a thousand miles a minute. I was baffled because it made me want to know what was so important in that tiny black book hidden in the wall.

Mr. Brown's sleeping bag was on the other side of the room in the shelter. That puzzled me too. I asked myself, "Why would he have a secret compartment in the wall and not sleep near it?" I rationalized with myself that it probably did not have anything of importance in it. Well, my curiosity got the best of me. I couldn't sleep. I wanted to know what was in the little black book. Mr. Brown had roamed around the small space that was not taken up by sleeping bags and the people in them. I lay very still and watched him until he finally laid down. I did not move a muscle. Loud snoring erupted from his sleeping bag. I crept up with my flashlight and crawled to the side of the room where he had the black book. When I got to the wall, I used the flashlight to look for a marking on the wall. There it was. It had a black dot on it. I mashed the dot and sure enough the small square opened and there lay the little black book. I quietly eased it out of its space in the wall and into my lap so as not to make a sound. My hands were sweaty, and I felt the moisture on my face beginning to drip. Yes, I was extremely nervous. I was praying Mr. Brown would not wake up and catch me bothering his belongings. Inside of the black book I found a tiny key taped inside and a map of directions for the inside of the shelter. The directions, if followed, sent you to another area in the shelter. That explains why Mr. Brown slept so far away from where the black book was hidden. He was there to protect what was hidden at the end of the directions on the map. "Snap!" The sound was loud and clear. Fear engulphed, me. I thought my heart would jump out of my chest. Slowly I looked where Mr. Brown lay, but he did not move. I quickly put the key back in the black book, closed the book, and placed it back in the wall. There was no movement or sounds other than the sounds of people sleeping. I eased back into my sleeping bag ever so careful not to disturb anyone.

I could hear the storm raging above, but I felt safe in the confines of the shelter. My mind drifted back to the contents of the black book. What was hidden in the shelter is the question that I very much wanted answered. Was it worth sneaking and finding out or should I forget about it? Sleep eluded me. It was the farthest thing from my mind. I pondered over a lot of scenarios as to what was at the end of the map's directions. Whatever it is, it's right under our noses.

Day two, the storm is still raging, and we are hunkered down to ride the storm out. In the meantime, I am watching Mr. Brown. He never did anything that made him look suspicious. I could not imagine what was planted in the shelter and what its purpose would be. Why would there be a need to keep it a secret? Every night Mr. Brown went back to that same spot and retrieved the black book. After opening it, he placed it back in the wall space. I guessed that he did this to insure the book was still in its hiding place.

Day 3, the storm had subsided, and Mr. Brown was able to lift the door up and ease up the steps to peek out. He reported that the worst of the storm was over and we all could leave the shelter and go to our individual places of residence. I volunteered to stay behind with my daughter to clean the place. No one objected. I waited an additional thirty minutes to make sure everyone was gone and did not come back for anything they had left.

I casually strolled over to the wall where I had found the black book. I took it out and read the directions on the map. I was led to another wall in the shelter. I touched the wall as instructed and slid it to the right. There was a padlock that needed to be opened. I used the tiny key to open it. Another wall was revealed to see an inner wall. There I found a battery-operated phone and batteries. Mr. Brown even had a loaded gun. Now, I am thinking, "He had some deep, dark secret hiding in the wall." Along with the gun, to my dismay, were stacks of money. I counted $200,000.00 in large bills. The money had a band wrapped on it that read Morgan Bank and Trust. My mind reflected to a news report two months ago. That bank had been robbed and $200,000.00 was never recovered. I also remembered that there was a reward. Hurriedly, I put the money in my daughter's backpack and exited the shelter. I made a beeline to the police station. Once there, I asked a policewoman to watch Lisa while I talked to the police chief. When I was inside of his office, I closed the door. I put the backpack on his desk and said, " I think this money belongs to Morgan Bank and Trust. This gun was found with it." He wanted to know how it ended up in my possession. I informed him of everything that had transpired at the shelter and gave him the name and address of my neighbor, Mr. Brown. When they went to arrest him, he had packed up and left. I took the police to the shelter and showed them where the money and gun had been found. The little black book was gone. The police assumed that Mr. Br0wn had returned to retrieve the money and the gun and discovered they were missing, so he took off. He was never heard from again. Morgan Bank and Trust thanked me for my honesty and for returning the money. They were true to their word as well. I was given a generous reward. Ironically, however, the money was not traceable.