And Crawling Things Lurk

Working together, Don and Carl calculated the location of this cellar to be forty or fifty feet farther west, and so, farther away from the river than the first one. And that appeared to be enough for the dirt bottom of the well to be merely damp. The side tunnel was about the same distance from the top as the other one, but it only went about ten feet before hitting rock.

“Looks like the seam of rock runs just about along the south edge of the building,” Carl said. “Bad luck for the excavators if their intention was to dig out beyond the building. So, did the diggers give up after these two, or is there, perhaps, another cellar with a well and tunnel that found a gap in the wall of rock?”

“I just can’t understand why they were trying to dig a tunnel out beyond the building.” Don picked up the second coiled rope after Carl was loaded up again. “It’s just open land out there. Why dig from here?”

“Well, you know, the thing about a tunnel is, if you’re not told it’s there, you might never know it was.”

“Wow, profound. I’m impressed. You gonna to tell me what it means?”

Carl led the way back up to the door, stopped and peered down at Don waiting at the bottom for the stairs to be clear before adding his weight. “Maybe whoever was digging the tunnel didn’t want others to know it was there. Secret tunnels and doors aren’t just in mystery novels. Sometimes, they’re real.”

“Oh, so now you’re saying maybe we should be looking for a secret door? I thought that was my line.”

“It’s a prerogative of young ladies and old men: we get to change our minds. But maybe we’ll have better luck finding this thing from the other end. Would there be another way to get out into that open field besides that barricaded door?”

Don thought for a bit. “It’d be a long walk through high weeds to come in from the highway. The easiest way from here might be from the riverbank if we can find a way out on that side. The trestle ends just a few feet past this south wall. We’ll have a view of the field from there.”

Once they got back to main floor level, they worked their way eastward through the building and eventually found an exterior door. They stepped out onto the loading dock facing the trestle just south of the pile of trash that blocked their view of that area of the trestle overlooking the Hole. They walked to the south end of the dock and peered around the corner of the building. From that vantage point, which was four to five feet above ground level, they looked out across a scrub and weed covered tract scattered with a few gnarled valley oaks and long dead fruit trees. It stretched several hundred feet from the river westward to the highway into town.

Don gazed over at the collapsing boathouse, a dilapidated structure he had looked at many times over the years without really seeing it. It had always just been part of the permanent landscape, like the trees dotting the land otherwise fully reclaimed by nature. Likewise, the tangle of woods covering the knoll out near the highway had always been there, concealing all but the slate roof and tower of the old mansion as seen from the strip mall on the other side. However, it was less shielded from the east side and much of the huge house was visible. No doubt it could be fascinating to get into a study of the old place, but maybe another time.

He turned to his companion who stood peering out over the landscape. Don followed his gaze out along the straight line of the southern wall of Lucas Manufacturing, but saw nothing new to hold his interest. Except for some of the weeds being taller, or bushier, or overgrown by new weeds, nothing seemed to have changed a bit since the first time he saw it as a new transferee from the north end of the state. In his first week on the department one of the old timers stuck with breaking him in brought him down along the trestle. They had gone to about half way from where he was now to the estate landing, his guide explaining what he was looking at, embellishing little and declaring he would probably have little reason to repeat the trek during his career since nothing ever happened down there. But Don was a conscientious patrol officer, and he often trekked along the trestle as far as this last loading dock, checking for signs of trespassing or vandalism. Over the years, he had chased away teens using it for a party spot, chilled homeless folk looking for a way in, and more than one trying to get a camp fire started right on the wood of the trestle. In all that time, it was the same. Nothing changed.

Carl pointed to the mansion. “Impressive looking place. Looks abandoned.”

“It is. Or, I guess it depends on your definition of the word abandoned. Along with this building, it’s still maintained as far as property taxes go, but probably not much else. Doors are locked, the lower windows are boarded up, and no utilities. Probably hasn’t been occupied in decades. That’s where the shipper lived, the guy that built this place.”

“Interesting.” After another minute of gazing across the field, Carl pointed and added, “And I guess that’s the exterior door we found at the end of the decorated hallway.”

Don looked down along the south wall to the only door, which was about two hundred feet from the river. It was in a sheltered corner where the wall was abutted by a steep mound almost as high at the roof eave of the building. The mound extended straight out into the field, sloping away after twenty feet or so. A small roof stuck out over the area outside the door and was anchored against the mound, the east side of which had been sheared away for the boardwalk, providing a sheltered entrance.

“Yeah, that was probably the way the owner went to and from work. Just a nice stroll from home.”

“Pretty elaborate entrance for just one man. I can’t see it as a customer entrance. Why not just build a wall?”

Don thought for a moment until the obvious answer struck him. “The mound was probably already there. See, the ground from there all the way to the highway is one mound after another. They just made use of it. Easier than grading it down to build a wall, especially back then when any grading had to be done by pick and shovel.”

“Okay. Makes sense…if that’s all it is.”

“What do you mean?”

Carl paused for a bit before explaining, “Tunnels don’t have to start with a hole in the ground. They can start with a door, even a secret door.”

“Huh?”

“That mound next to the entrance goes right up against the wall, and on the inside of that wall is an elaborate mosaic. Mosaics make great places to conceal secret doors. Didn’t you know that?”

Don gazed at the private entrance and pondered. It could have been a whole lot easier to construct if it had been situated just a few feet farther east, just enough to clear the last of the mounded area. Now, maybe it was built after the building was completed and the executive office was already there. But if it wasn’t…if it had been created as the building was going up… “Let’s go back in and take another look.”

Jackie scrunched around enough to get off the little bump digging into his rump. One of these days he’d have to take a good look at it and dig it out. He didn’t think it was big, just big enough to be a pain in the ass after awhile. It could be the tip of a fist-sized stone, or it might be a boulder as big as a car and he’d have to leave it there, anyway. Maybe he’d fill in above it instead. Maybe tomorrow.

He slowly unscrewed the cap from the bottle – sometimes he liked to tease himself with anticipation. Then, even with the cap off, he further taunted himself by holding the bottle up to catch the sunlight through the ruby contents just discernable through the dark green glass. Almost half full. And he already had a bit of fuzziness softening the intrusion of the world. The others had killed the other two bottles he had brought down, but they said he could have this one all by himself.

Aw, wasn’t that nice of them? Yeah, and it ain’t even their bottle!

But they had all waved and smiled as Erica herded them up the slope, relinquishing the entire Hole to him. They said they had celebrated his spear enough and had other things to do, so they left. That’s all right, though. He knew how to celebrate all by himself. And if this last half a bottle wasn’t enough, he’d just go get another one.

As he tilted the bottle to his lips, his gaze crept over to Josie’s cart and the spear leaning against it. With the lethal end piercing the sky, the sun flashed and glinted off the honed edges like fire.

I did it, Josie. It’s ready. Just let it come, now.

He slid himself down just a bit lower to where his body could better fit his depression in the ground. He discovered he had moved right back onto that damned bump but couldn’t be bothered to do anything about it. The sun’s warmth was like a cuddly blanket, soothing his worn and ragged soul. He raised the bottle to his lips, but he couldn’t drink without rising from his bed or he’d dump it all over himself…and he was so comfortable. He had enough fuzz for now. He could wait for that sip. He’d just lie there for a bit and feel good for a change. He set the bottle on the ground and curled his painful hands together, each one comforting the other. The warm blanket of the sun combined with the fuzzy blanket wrapped about his mind and he began sliding away. If only his hands didn’t hurt....

He never noticed the figure on the trestle above him.

From the open doorway leading back inside, Don turned to wave to Jerry Wright aboard the Mary Beth chugging upstream. He closed the door to the loading dock and replaced the bar across the inside of the door. He turned to follow Carl, but he couldn’t even make out his shape. “Christ, it’s dark in here! You think you can find your way back to that hallway?”

“Pretty sure. I’ve got my compass, but we should be able to dead reckon it. We ought to be getting used to the layout by now.”

“I guess so, as long as we go slow. Right now, even with my flashlight, I’m so night-blind from the glare outside I’m liable to walk into a wall. Let’s just hold it here for a couple of minutes.”

From the trestle, Muri peered down at her friend curled up in his favorite spot. A bottle on the ground beside him leaned against the old crate he sometimes sat on.

A frown creased her forehead. “Oh, Jackie,” she breathed as she slowly shook her head.

The chug-chug of a fishing boat engine caught her attention, and she looked up. Jerry Wright was bringing The Mary Beth back from an early day on the bay. As the boat churned past against the outgoing tide, Jerry waved to her and she returned it. She could see his mouth moving, and she was pretty sure she could hear his voice calling out some greeting – or, from the frown on his face, he might be giving his thoughts on her being there in the Hole – but she couldn’t understand the words over the noise of his diesel. So, she smiled as she waved back at him and just took his comments as a friendly greeting. And then, with two of her favorite persons in the same view, she got a great idea. She’d get Jerry to give Jackie a job. Jerry was always complaining about having to do all the work himself, out there by himself all day long. She bet he’d like some company. And she bet Jackie would be good at it, too. She’d just have to tell Jerry that Jackie wasn’t a bad guy like he was thinking. He was a good guy, a hero…a real hero with medals and all.

The more she thought about it the better she liked it. She’d do it, she’d talk to him about Jackie. She thought about talking to Jackie first but decided he’d be easier to talk into it if she had an actual offer from Jerry.

After the Mary Beth pushed its way on upstream and peace and quiet returned once again, she was tempted to go down and shake Jackie awake and scold him for backsliding. He had been doing so well lately, applying his every moment to the spear project. Now look at him, no different from the first day she met him when he threw Tory into the river. That image of Tory’s mud and slime covered face sputtering his outrage suddenly filled her mind and brought a smile to her face. She could still hear his voice, quivering from the cold of the water and the shock that he had actually been tossed into it. Jackie hadn’t known either her or Tory and his friends, but he had been outraged by their assault on her.

A glittering of light caught her attention. That was when she noticed the spear leaning against Josie’s cart, complete and ready for use. He had done it! She felt a swelling of pride for him. She knew it was something important to him, even if he never got a chance to use it. She wouldn’t disturb him, but she’d just go down and get a closer look at his handy-work. From up where she was, it looked pretty good.

She turned to walk over to the top of the slope and froze. The figure that scurried up onto the trestle from the street didn’t pause when they locked eyes. It was as though all the air around her had been sucked away, and with that familiar reek, she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t scream. All she could do was stand there and watch as Sofia stepped over the rail.