He inches the trunk across the floor until it's right in front of her. Instead of opening it, she sits on top of it and begins to massage her ankles.
"So what's in it?" Connor asks.
"Correspondence," she says. "But it's not what's in it that matters. It's what's underneath." Then with her cane she pushes away the rug where the trunk had been to reveal a trapdoor with a brass pull-ring.
"Go on," says Sonia, pointing again with her cane. Connor sighs and grabs the ring, pulling open the trapdoor to reveal steep stone steps leading down into darkness. Risa puts down her bowl and, holding the baby over her shoulder in burping position, approaches the trapdoor, kneeling beside Connor.
"This is an old building," Sonia tells them. "Way back in the early twentieth century, during the first Prohibition, they hid hooch down there."
"Hooch?" asks Connor.
"Alcohol! I swear, this whole generation's the same. Caps-lock IGNORANT!"
The steps down are steep and uneven. At first Connor thinks Sonia will send them down alone, but she insists on leading the way. She takes her time, and seems more surefooted on the steps than she does on level ground. Connor tries to hold her arm to give her support, but she shakes him off, and throws him a nasty gaze. "If I want your help, I'll ask. Do I look feeble to you?"
"Actually, yes."
"Looks are deceiving," she says. "After all, when I saw you, I thought you looked reasonably intelligent."
"Very funny."
At the bottom, Sonia reaches toward the wall and throws a light switch.
Risa gasps, and Connor follows her gaze until he sees them. Three figures. A girl and two boys.
"Your little family has just grown," Sonia tells them.
The kids don't move. They appear to be close to Connor's and Risa's age.
Fellow Unwinds, for sure. They look wary and exhausted. Connor wonders if he looks as bad.
"For God's sake, stop staring," she says to them. "You look like a pack of rats."
Sonia shuffles around the dusty cellar, pointing things out to Risa and Connor. "There are canned goods on these shelves, and a can opener around somewhere. Eat whatever you want, but don't leave anything over or you really will see rats. Bathroom's back there. Keep it clean. I'll go out in a bit and get some formula and a baby bottle." She glances at Connor. "Oh, and there's a first-aid kit around here somewhere for the bite on your arm, whatever
Connor suppresses a grin. Sonia doesn't miss a thing.
"How much longer?" asks the oldest of the three cellar-rats, a muscular guy who looks at Connor with intense distrust, as if Connor might challenge his role as alpha male or something.
"What do you care?" says Sonia. "You got a pressing appointment?"
The kid doesn't respond; he just glares at Sonia and crosses his arms, displaying a shark tattooed on his forearm.
Sonia sighs. "Four more days until I'm rid of you for good."
"What happens in four days?" Risa asks.
"The ice cream man comes." And with that, Sonia climbs up the stairs faster than Connor thought she'd be able to. The trapdoor bangs closed.
"Dear, sweet Dragon Lady won't tell us what happens next," says the second boy, a lanky blond kid with a faint smirk that seems permanently fixed on his face. He has braces on teeth that don't appear to need them. Although his eyes tell of sleepless nights, his hair is perfect. Connor can tell that this kid, despite the rags he's wearing, comes from money.
"We get sent to harvest camp and they cut us apart, that's what happens next," says the girl. She's Asian, and looks almost as tough as the kid with the tattoo, with hair dyed a deep shade of pink and a spiked leather choker on her neck.
Shark Boy looks at her sharply. "Will you shut up with your end-of-the-world crap?" Connor notices that the kid has four parallel scratch marks on one side of his face, consistent with fingernails. The girl has a black eye.
"It's not the end of the world," she grumbles. "Just the end of us."
"You're beautiful when you're nihilistic," says the smirker.
"Shut up."
"You're only saying that because you don't know what nihilistic means."
Risa gives Connor a look, and he knows what she's thinking.
Turns out, each of these kids, just like every Unwind, has a story that ranks a ten on the Kleenex scale.
The smirker is Hayden. As Connor predicted, he comes from a ridiculously wealthy family. When his parents got a divorce, there was a brutal custody battle over him. Two years and six court dates later, it still wasn't resolved. In the end the only thing his mother and father could agree on was that each would rather see Hayden unwound than allow the other parent to have custody.