Ben Dover's Arc

Chapter 83 of 150

By late afternoon the wall was leaking. Not sound. Smell. The sap Ben had used to reseal the crate weeks back was breaking down in the warm dry air behind Jack's boards. It came through the seam by the shelf as a thin sour rot, like pine turned bad. Ben pressed his nose near the wood and knew a neighbor would smell it before morning. Jack came in from the yard with sawdust on his sleeves. He sniffed once at the shelf. His face did not change. "That's not tea." "The seal is going," Ben said. "The wall holds the hum. It won't hold this." "Neighbor on the north side keeps hounds," Jack said. "Hounds work by nose. He walks the fence at first light." Eileen set down the kettle. "Then we reseal before dark." "Not here," Jack said. "You open that crate in my house, the hum goes through the boards and the cousins come asking. Take it out. Fix it. Bring it back sealed." "Out where?" Ben said. Jack pointed his chin at the ridge behind the yard. A squared stone ruin stood above the treeline, older than the road. "Old toll house. Thick walls. No door left. Nobody goes near it. You get one hour of hum before the wind turns down our way." Ben needed sap and a second pair of hands that would not be missed on the road. He sent Millie to fetch Chilly Willy from the roadhouse. Chilly came at a slow walk, shirt open at the collar, breathing through his mouth. Jack's brother-in-law filled the doorway and did not step inside. He looked at Ben. "Jack said carry a barrel. I carry." "Uphill," Ben said. "Fast." "Not fast. But I carry." They wrapped the crate in oilcloth and roped the handles. Chilly took one iron ring. Ben took the other. The great barrel chest cleared the floor when Chilly lifted. Ben carried his end. Chilly carried the rest. They reached the stone ruin in twenty minutes. Ben set out the sap pot Joe had left with him, a knife, and a strip of clean linen. Chilly stood watch at the empty doorway, blocking it with his back. Ben cracked the lid a finger's width. The hum came out low and steady, one long note pressed against the stone. He scraped the failing sap free, laid the new sap thick along the seam, and pressed the linen down. He counted to sixty. He closed the lid. The hum cut off. The sour smell was gone under the fresh pine of the new sap. Chilly turned his head. "Man on the fence line. Not the neighbor." Ben looked past his shoulder. A thin figure stood in the pines below, watching the ruin. Not moving. Not leaving. "We were seen bringing it up," Ben said. "Seen," Chilly agreed. "By him. Now he knows the barrel is not in Jack's wall."