Jack Beale 00 - Killer Run

dust erupted, which made him sneeze and her laugh. He couldn’t tell if it was locked or not so he tried to lift the lid. It moved. Not much, but enough to confirm that it wasn’t locked. He tried again, and it opened a couple of inches, enough that with a flashlight they could peek in and could see that it was full of some kind of fabric.
    After a few drops of oil on the hinges and some gentle coaxing, the lid finally opened.
    “It’s a quilt,” said Polly.
    “A quilt?” A hint of disappointment lingered in his voice.
    “And it looks really old.” Polly leaned over and began to lift it out of the chest. It was heavier than she had expected and it began to unfold. “Mal, help me. Grab that corner.”
    He followed her lead and together they lifted the quilt out of the chest. “There’s another under this one,” Polly said, nodding her head toward the chest.
    Holding it high, they slowly unfolded it. A beautiful geometric pattern revealed itself. Reds, blues, and greens were the predominant colors, although the whole spectrum seemed to be represented. Some parts of the quilt were more faded than others and there were clear lines where it had been folded.
    “It’s beautiful,” she said.
    “I wonder how old it is?” Malcom added.
    “Don’t know. Maybe there’s a historical society in town.”
    “Even if the quilts not very old, I bet the chest is. Let’s fold this one back up and look at the next.”
    They took each quilt out, unfolded it, admired it, refolded it, and moved on to the next. There were six quilts in that chest, each one different. Some appeared older than others, some were just patterns like the first one, and others were more like a picture. As soon as the last quilt was folded and put back into the chest, they returned to the attic for the other chest and began the process again.
    The second trunk, while similar to the first, was a bit smaller. This one was the color of dark honey, and from the number of blemishes, it had obviously been well used.
    It too was filled with quilts, and these seemed older than those in the first chest. Each was removed in turn, unfolded, looked at, refolded, and carefully placed on the floor next to the chest. The fifth quilt that they removed was stunning. The two center squares in the top row, along with the two bottom corners, were larger than the other squares that made up the quilt’s perimeter. A total of fourteen perimeter squares surrounded a large center square. While the other quilts were all symmetrical, the arrangement of the four larger perimeter squares prevented that here.
    At first glance the couple found the asymmetry a bit off-putting, but they soon realized that it was impossible to pull their eyes away from it, much the same way that Mona Lisa’s smile captivates. In the central square was a large sailing ship and embroidered under it the date: 1773. The squares around the edge each had a different scene depicted. Some were bright and cheerful, others dark and foreboding. There was silence as the couple took it in.
    “Have you ever seen anything like this before?” Polly eventually asked, her voice reflecting the same amazement that was in her eyes.
    “Never.”
    “Look. Start at the top. If you follow the squares around, it’s like they are telling a story.” She pointed at the square to the right of the two larger ones in the top row and swept her arm around the quilt in a clockwise direction.
    “So it is,” said Malcom.
    “Oh Mal. This is amazing.”
    He agreed. Then, having reached his quilt quota, he said, “I need another sandwich.” He lowered the corner he was holding and draped it over a nearby chair.
    Polly continued to stare at the quilt, ignoring Malcom’s desertion.
    Soon Polly could hear Malcom foraging in the fridge. She continued to stare at the quilt until her arm couldn’t hold it up any longer. She put her corner down, folding it over the same chair Malcom had used to drape his corner. She’d need his help to better refold it. Turning toward the chest she glanced inside again.
    “What have we here?” she said aloud. The bottom of the chest held one more carefully folded surprise: a faded and stained piece of cloth. She couldn’t tell if this was another quilt or just some material not yet used. Whatever it was, it looked as if it could easily fall apart.
    She was about to begin lifting it out herself when Malcom walked back into the room holding a plate with her lunch in one hand and a half-