Saving Beach Mansion

“I'll investigate the basement,” Wayne shared excitedly. “Maybe I'll find that legendary trap door and cellar while I'm at it." "Just don't forget that we're in here to find and help Mr. Carter, not just for your report," Misty reminded him with her hands on her hips. "Yes, Ma'am." Wayne's voice was tinged with annoyance. Misty bounded up the stairs, calling for Mr. Carter loudly. As she searched the second floor, she heard a muffled noise coming from the third floor. She couldn't pinpoint the origin of the sound, but cautiously tip-toed up the last flight of stairs. Her instinct told her to check the tower room of the old mansion, and the adjoining crawl space, and as she drew nearer, the noise grew louder. She called softly at first, then more boldly as she was able to distinguish an old man's weak voice calling for help. Kneeling beside the crawl space, Misty tapped lightly on the wall. A thud responded to her query, and she realized that poor Mr. Carter was trapped inside the sealed closet. Just as she turned to go for help and tools to open the area, a huge figure blocked the doorway. "Well, hello, Girlie," a filthy, greasy-looking hulk of a man in fishing coveralls leered. Before Misty could react, the intruder had clamped his hand over her mouth and grabbed her in a hold too strong to break. Misty gagged at the stench, but managed to bite his hand, and when he shook it free of her teeth, she screamed. "Wayne, help!" she shrieked. Instantly, a huge hand slapped her across the face, knocking her senseless as she slumped in her captor's grasp. ***** Wayne found the furnace he was looking for, and made some quick mental notes of its position and mechanism. He also located the cistern room, which was more of a small indoor swimming pool. In addition, he discovered the laundry room with cypress clothes racks which slid into the warm inner compartment where the hot air from the furnace dried the clothes. Entering the larder, or pantry, Wayne found the cement seal over the trap door in the floor. The decoy was off center, as if someone had intended to come back and replace it properly. Wayne slid it out of the way and pulled on the inset handle of the trap door. Opening it was easier than he expected, indicating that it was used often. Climbing into the musty, cramped room, he found neatly stacked plastic-covered bales of bagged powder. Biting his lip and breathing a deep sigh of apprehension, Wayne reached for one of the loose bags. Unable to examine it closely in the dim cellar, he pocketed one in his jacket. "I only hope this isn't what I think it is," Wayne whispered. "If it is, we could be in some real danger here." Just then, Misty's piercing scream met his ears. Wayne scrambled out of the wine cellar and bounded up the stairs three at a time, yelling for Misty as he went. As he reached the landing of the second floor, two huge men came barreling down. They met him like an offensive line bulldozing a path for a running back, knocking him backwards down the staircase. He landed in a heap at the base of the walnut stairs, unconscious.