The Cellar Read Online Free

screaming
of dying men assailing their ears.
    The chair and small table remained and Ike
had an urge to sit in the chair.  He couldn’t remember the last time he has sat
on an actual chair.  Hard tack crates, chunks of firewood, and rocks had served
as furniture for the last two years when he could even find such amenities. 
Often the best one could do was to sit cross legged on the ground.  Real
furniture seemed like something remarkable.  Standing up made him light headed
for a moment but he braced his hands against the wall until the feeling passed
and hobbled over to occupy the seat where the woman had watched him……she had
sat there in the dark for a full hour.   Why had she bothered?  The chair felt
good, it made Ike feel more human to be sitting on something actually made for
that purpose. 
    He jumped at what seemed like the sound of
the echoing laughter that he had heard before, he looked around and listened to
see if he could discern where it had come from, he could hear nothing from the
outside and the sound seemed to have been too faint to have come from his new
abode.  The only thing he heard for certain was the clock striking eight from
somewhere above.  As he strained to hear where the laughter might have come
from another matter arose to distract him.
    It came to Ike that he couldn’t remember
having emptied his bladder in nearly three days and the urge was becoming
pressing.  He wondered if he had wet his uniform, but it was so sweat soaked
and filthy that it would have been hard to determine. Dehydration had made
passing water less of an issue until now.  He was wondering if there was a
corner in the cellar that would be any more acceptable than another when the
door creaked open and Marcus entered carrying an enameled chamber pot and a
crutch.
    “Missy say you prob’ly be needin’ this
‘bout now.”  Marcus said, lifting the chamber pot.
    “She must be a wise woman, Marcus, I am
about to explode.” Ike said, hoping to get a smile out of the taciturn giant
who was helping him to his feet.  Getting no reaction, Ike finished his
business, marveling at how good it felt to empty his bladder.  In civilian life
he would have had a hard time voiding himself with someone else watching, but
two years of passing water with so many others in attendance had rid him of
that problem.  He was usually glad to finish without someone else wetting down
his shoes.
    “Made that crutch fo’ one of Missy’s boys
when he fell off’n a hoss and broke his leg a few years back.”  Marcus said. 
Something about his manner made Ike think that he was saddened by the
recollection.  The crutch was made of oak, with a thick heavy head that fit
nicely under Ike’s arm.  The head had been carefully smoothed for the comfort
of its user.  The shaft was made from a tree limb nearly as thick as Ike’s
wrist and the length was perfect for Ike’s build.  The bark had been removed
and it also had been shaved with obvious care.
    Marcus went back out, closing the door
behind him and returned a few minutes later with the chamber pot, which had
been emptied out and rinsed, hanging from his elbow by its bale.  He also
carried the tray with a water pitcher and bowl along with the drinking cup,
another bowl of what he assumed was more mush also occupied the tray.  The tray
was placed on the table and the chamber pot was relegated to the corner of the
cellar farthest from the door.  Marcus gave a small bow and went back up the
steps, closing the door behind him.  Ike noticed the sound of something heavy
being placed on the door after the big man’s exit.
    Ike attacked the bowl, which he discovered
contained oatmeal with cream and a few fresh blackberries on top.  This time he
did lick the whole concern clean and let out a belch that felt wonderful.  He
washed it all down with water from the ewer and proceeded to wash himself as
thoroughly as he could with the remaining water and a sliver of soap which
smelled