Peanut Butter Cups, a Protein Bar, and a Bag of Chips

The PA system crackled overhead with shrill urgency.

“Hurricane spawning tornados. Multiple cells spotted off the coast. ETA five minutes. Take immediate cover.”

The island siren followed, long and low.

In the chaos, three people on separate errands were slammed against walls that gave way like cheap stage props. Hidden doors yawned open, and in a matter of heartbeats they were dumped into a cavern beneath old King Manor.

Jay hit the ground, breath gone, stolen clean out of his chest, like the storm had mugged him. Pain lanced across his shoulder and up his neck. For a moment, all he could do was lie there in the pitch dark, ears ringing, trying to determine which way was up. Then he remembered the phone in his pocket. Fingers fumbled until the screen lit. No bars. Of course not. But the flashlight feature worked, stabbing the gloom to reveal stone walls slick with damp, a tunnel stretching into black.

Elsewhere, Gabby landed flat on her stomach with an oomph. Darkness pressed in, heavy and smothering. Her phone? Upstairs. Ugh. She lifted her wrist and tapped the watch. The weak glow of her Fitbit lit up just enough to show stone, mold, dripping water. Hell’s bells—was this…? A secret passage.

Before panic could get a full grip, the silence cracked with a crash and a string of expletives she’d heard enough times to recognize the voice.

“Rick!” she called, edging forward with only the dim illumination of the Fitbit.

“Gabby?” His answer echoed off stone, ragged and close.

The sound of their voices stirred the shadows. A rush of wings exploded overhead, leathery flaps swooping around her ears. Bats. Dozens of them.

Gabby dropped to a crouch, swatting at the air. “Now we’re auditioning for a Dracula movie.” She felt a wing brushed her hair, and she stifled a scream. “Where’s a stake and holy water when you need them?”

Somewhere in the dark, Rick’s short, strangled laugh sounded closer.

A few steps more and his hands caught her shoulders, breath hot and ragged. “Went looking for you. Heard a noise behind the fireplace. I’m banging on the walls, next thing—I’m falling.”

Relief and guilt wrestled in her gut. Was it selfish to be glad she wasn’t alone? That he was trapped too? Before she could decide, his mouth brushed her neck. Unbelievably, despite the circumstances, Gabby’s breath quickened. Until a cough cut the moment in two.

A stouter light flooded the space.

“My bad,” Jay drawled, smirk sharp, phone held high. “Should I come back later? Maybe grab popcorn for the grand finale?”

Gabby groaned, pulling away from Rick, shielding her eyes from the glare. “Jay. Do you mind?”

“That’s the thanks I get for rescuing you?” he countered.

She squinted at him. “That isn’t the Bat-Signal, and you’re not exactly Batman.”

They had to find a way back inside—to safety, warmth, comfort, normalcy.

The three of them slogged deeper into the tunnel, water creeping higher, their bickering echoing against the stone walls like a second storm. By the time they found a ledge above the flood line, they were soaked, shivering, starving.

“Cozy as a coffin.” Gabby brushed cobwebs from her sleeve, trying not to think about what had brushed back.

Rick set his jaw, looking around the dismal space. “Better than being skewered by tornado trash.”

“Or drowned by rising floodwaters.” Jay leaned against the wall, flashlight beam catching his scowl. “Could be worse.”

The cavern echoed with the single response of three hungry stomachs grumbling in harmony.

The peanut butter cups in Gabby’s pocket called louder than either man. Share or not to share—that was the question. Always the dependable daughter, the mother, the friend who went out of her way to help. She wore that image like armor. But tonight? It was slipping. Hunger, not guilt, twisted her stomach into knots.

She stood, pretending to explore the cavern wall, while her fingers worked the wrapper with the dexterity of a jewel thief. Just one. A girl deserved something sweet while trapped with two men who’d rather posture than problem-solve. She slipped the chocolate into her mouth, letting it melt and slither down her throat, praying neither caught the scent.

A few feet away, Rick wrestled with his choices. Eagle Scout training—hah! Up above, with wealth and resources, he’d cultivated the scout slogan Do a good turn daily like it was second nature. Down here…not so much. His gut growled again, and to him it sounded like the whole cavern was laughing at him.

Be prepared. Sure. Here he was, stranded with a single protein bar. Hardly survivalist bragging rights. He slipped it out, bent to tie a shoelace, coughed—loud, theatrical, Oscar-worthy—to cover the wrapper’s crinkle, and bit off a corner. Half now, then in the morning, he’d produce the rest like a forgetful hero making a noble sacrifice.

Smug jokes, cocky grin, air of invincibility, Jay’s cover was usually impenetrable. He wore it so well people rarely saw past it. But his hunger…tugging the mask clean off. He hadn’t eaten since last night and was about to swoon.

His treasure wasn’t wrapped. The chip bag in his backpack had been crushed into dust. Still, salt and grease counted as calories. He excused himself to the shadows for a “nature break,” in reality fumbling to open the package and cringing when it crackled like fireworks. The crumbs that clung to his fingers felt like a metaphor for everything he tried not to think about. Did he have anything solid to offer anyone? Or was he just noise and bravado? The thought sat bitter on his tongue.

Sometime in the night, their uneasy dozing was shattered. Squeaks. Dozens of glowing red eyes. Blinking. Watching. Rats. A whole platoon of them lined up like they were waiting for orders.

Gabby sighed. “Don’t judge me.” She broke her remaining peanut butter cup into crumbs and tossed them like holy wafers over the ledge. The rats abandoned their posts, squealing to swarm the offerings.

By morning, cold and stiff, they stumbled upon a pole leading to a ledge and finally a doorway back into the manor. Problem was, water seeped from a crack pooling at their feet, making the pole slick as soap.

Rick pulled out the remnants of his protein bar, still clinging to its wrapper. “I’ve got this. Hope it’s enough.”

“Wait,” Jay said, shaking his bag of chip dust like maracas. Between the two of them, they jammed the leak long enough to scramble up.

At the top, mud-streaked and hollow-eyed, they collapsed in a heap.

Not a crumb left between them—except the sheepish taste of humility.

Gabby climbed through the door, rolling her eyes. “At least we didn’t die down here just to have ‘Here they lie, out of snacks’ chiseled on our tombstones.”