by Nathan Roten
“Come on ya stupid door. Just open!”
Tug-Tug-Tug. More grunting. More pulling. Graham tried with all his fingertip strength, but it would not budge. He plopped back to the floor and massaged his fingers. Frustrated and tired from the straining, he crossed his legs indian style in front of the hollow panel, and with a heavy thud, Graham slammed his forehead into it.
“Click.”
Graham heard a small metallic noise from behind the door. As he raised his head from the panel, the door hinged open, just slightly, confirming his suspicion. He sat for a moment with his mouth wide open. He stretched his hand out to feel a small gust of damp air blow from the small passageway. He cracked the door open a little more, and grabbed the lip of the trim. The trim overlapped the middle section of the panel by about an inch, so that no seam could be seen. The hinges on the other side of the door were masterfully inset into the wood, so no trace of a door could be detected.
With the door now completely open, Graham noticed that the left side of the wall of the small wooden staircase was completely covered with small lines carved into the wall. The lines were in clusters of five. Four vertical lines, and one diagonal line running through the other four. Someone had been counting. There had to be thousands of marks covering the wall. The marks went from the top of each step to the ceiling as far as one could reach up as you descended the stairs.
It was then that Graham remembered the lecture from the teacher during study time. Greenwood was part of the underground railroad. What once was an escape for thousands of slaves would now serve as the path to Graham’s freedom. What a wonderful slice of irony it was. Two slices of irony, actually. Remembering Ms. Winstone’s remark about finding answers in the library, Graham could not help but laugh to himself.
Thanks Ms. Winstone. You were right after all.
Beginning from the left side, Graham counted the number of sections of the desk wall and made note of which one housed the hidden door. He pushed the door shut again and heard another ‘click’ noise, letting him know that it was latched again. He then stood up to his feet and made his way back to the library door. Now back in the hallway, Graham began searching for Damien. He walked back towards The Commons and turned the corner past the large Grandfather clock, where he saw Damien coming out from the Parlor Room.
Now running, Graham almost tackled Damien in his excitement.
“Wooaaa there, chief! This isn’t the NFL. You almost knocked me down,” said Damien as he began to give his report. “I have been up and down these halls. There are no doors that go outside, except the front door, the doors at the end of each wing, and the Parlor door.”
Grabbing Damien by both shoulders, Graham looked at his friend with wide eyes.
“No amigo, that is not all of the doors. I found a way out, and you are not going to believe how.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
At The Stroke of Midnight
“Im-pos-eee-blee! Inside the big desks? Do you know where it leads to?” asked Damien.
“No. I didn’t have time to go through the tunnel to see where it came out, but it has to lead somewhere right? I saw thousands of tic marks on the wall. This had to be a station for the Underground Railroad. I only caught bits and pieces of what the teacher said, but basically, the slaves came from the South up here to the North to have a fresh start to life. I am pretty sure it didn’t end by staying in a tunnel underneath Greenwood. If worse comes to worse and it doesn’t lead anywhere, we just come back up. What’s to lose?”
Damien shrugged. “Nothing, I guess. So, what next? Do we just wait until midnight and sneak out?”
“Yea, judging by the time it takes to get out of here, walk to Wellington, and go the extra few miles to Portfield Manor, we will need to leave our rooms around midnight, assuming the underground path isn’t too long.” We just do what we did last time. We go down the staircase, around the corner, then make our way into the Library. The most important thing is that we get to the meeting and back without anyone knowing about our absence. With this plan, no-one will be able to see us leave or come back. It is perfect!”
Dinner flew by as the anticipation of tonight’s events built up inside Graham and Damien. Graham laid in bed fully clothed as he counted the chimes of the clock downstairs. He tossed his ball up and down to the rhythm of the chimes of the clock downstairs. Ding. Ding. Ding……. Eleven dings. One more hour ’til game-time. All of this sneaking around and scheming had started to fray Graham’s nerves.
The satisfaction of knowing answers were within reach kept Graham excited, but there was something else there, another excitement that Graham could not pinpoint. It could be the thought of an adventure, sure, but after wrestling with this new and unfamiliar emotion, he finally decided that it must be what others describe as ‘having a purpose.’ To think that these answers could lead to something more, a life dedicated to something more than merely existing. Yes, that must be what is making his heart pound and flutter.
“More like set apart than cast aside.” That is what Chase said.
What does that even mean? Graham thought to himself. “Both seem equally as bad to me.” Tossing and turning with the thoughts running through his mind like wild animals, it seemed like only a few minutes had passed until he heard the next series of chimes from the clock. Ding. Ding. Ding…….. twelve dings.
Game-time.
Just like they had talked about at dinner, Graham made his way over to the duct and gave three knocks. Without hesitation, three more knocks came from the other side. Damien was ready. They both creaked open the door to the hallway and gave a quick glance both ways before stepping out The hallway was very dark, with only a few small night lights spaced out every eight feet or so, illuminating their path.
They both tip-toed down the hallway until they made it to the stairway. Without a noise and much to Damien’s relief, they reached the bottom of the stairs without interruption, and turned the corner to the Library.
Damien breathed a sigh of relief. “It is much easier to do this in the middle of the night.”
“No doubt,” Graham replied.
A few creaks and cracks of the floorboards later, they finally made it to the entrance of the Library. They both made it inside and quietly closed the door behind them. Graham led the way to the back side of the desk, where he had been just a few hours before. Counting the squares, Graham settled his right hand on the 5th section. “This one. This is the door.” Using his hand this time, Graham pushed against the hidden door until he heard the click. Letting off pressure, the door moved a few inches letting a small gust hit Damien’s face.
“Asombroso! This is the coolest thing I have ever seen!”
Reaching into his left pant pocket, Graham pulled out a small plastic flashlight he had gotten as a gift years ago. It was a child’s toy, but since they did not get gifts often, Graham had taken good care of it. He pushed the little black switch up and the hidden staircase flooded with light. The stairs were steep and covered with cobwebs. Pointing his light to the left wall, he pointed to the tic marks on the wall.
“See, I told ya.”
“Wow. These were made by slaves all those years ago?”
“Yea, I guess. This led them to their freedom, and now, it is going to lead to ours.”
Graham could hardly contain his excitement. They were going to do it. They were going on their first real adventure. This went well beyond sneaking around and eavesdropping on conversations. They were about to step into a secret tunnel of which they had no idea where it would lead to. They were going to tromp through the forest during the darkest part of the night and make their way to a secret meeting with people who could do things that seemed impossible. This is the sort of thing you only read about in books, but tonight, it was all really happening.
“You ok? What are you waiting for?” asked Damien.
Coming back from his thoughts, Graham looked at Damien with a smile on his face. “Nothing amigo. Absolutely nothing. I have never been better.”
Testing each step by easing their bodyweight onto it, they made their way down the staircase. Graham turned around to the door, taking hold of the small strap on the backside and closed it shut. Now on the dirt floor, Graham took the lead as he shined his flashlight down the path. It was pretty impressive. About every ten feet or so, there were large rustic timbers bracing the walls and ceiling of the narrow tunnel. Graham could almost stretch out his arms and touch both walls at the same time.
Resisting the urge to explore, they both knew they were under a restricted time limit. Picking up speed, they began jogging down the tunnel ducking under large cobwebs and passing boxes of blankets and small barrels. Graham kept count of the timber braces as they ran through the tunnel. They must have been a good 800 feet from the stairs now.
Graham slowed down a little to catch his breath. Damien was right beside him and matched his pace. At the very end of the beam of light, Damien could see the beginning of another set of stairs.
“We made it. We are at the other end!” Ecstatic, Damien took off in a sprint towards the stairs.
“Hey, wait up! You are going to break your neck running in the dark.”
Graham took off after Damien trying to shine the light ahead of him so that he didn’t run into anything. Damien never did enjoy confined spaces, nor did he like dark spaces, especially when those spaces have been in the dark for decades. There was no telling what sorts of creatures and crawling insects were down here. The sooner he could get out, the better. Not concerning himself with testing the stairs, Damien leaped from the ground and made his way to the top. Before the word “STOP” could come out of Graham’s mouth, Damien’s head slammed against a large wooden trap door which appeared to be part of the floor of the structure above.
“OUCH!!” cried Damen.
“I told you to wait up.”
“Shut it,” Damien said, rubbing the small bump forming on the top of his head. “I just want to get out of here. Shine your light up here. I can’t see how to open this thing.”
“Wait a second and let’s listen for any sign of life, now that you’ve rattled the door with your head.”
They sat on the stairs for a few minutes listening for footsteps or voices. There was nothing but silence. Graham aimed his flashlight up to the door and took hold of the round metal handle which was inlayed into the wooden frame. Pulling the middle ring out 90 degrees from the rest of the metal frame, the door clicked, signaling that it was unlocked, but the door did not budge. Graham tilted his head to the left so that he could push against the door with his shoulder, but the door would not move.
“Hey, quit worrying about your little boo-boo and help me push.”
“I could have a concussion. Cut me some slack.”
Damien continued to rub his hand through his thick black hair trying to massage the bump back down as he walked next beside Graham, hunched over and put his shoulder against the door.
“On three, ok?”
“Push on three, or count to three then push?”
Graham stared at Damien. “Really?……just push when I do.”
“Fine,” said Damien still wincing in pain.
“Three!”
Graham pushed with all his might against the door.
“Hey wai….ahrrgghhhh.” Caught off guard with three instead of one, Damien pushed with Graham. With the two of them straining, the door began to hinge open as fine trickles of dust fell on top of their head and shoulders. They got it cracked about eight inches or so, allowing Graham to see that there were no people in the room and that there was some sort of bag on top. He scoured the dark room the best he could for a few more seconds before their strength gave out an the door slammed shut again.
“I think we are clear, but there is something on top. Like a large burlap bag of food or something.”
“Ya don’t say,” panted Damien.
“I do say,” said Graham, matching Damien’s sarcastic tone. “Come on, let’s try again. On three.”
Knowing that three meant right now, Damien began to push just as Graham said ‘Three!’ With every ounce of energy they had, Graham and Damien pushed against the door. six inches…..eight inches……. “Arrrhhhhaaa!!” They both grunted with clenched jaws. As they continued to push, they felt the bag begin to slide, carrying it’s momentum down the face of the door and off to the side, allowing the door to fly open.
“YES!” said Damien.
Graham poked his head up from the floor to see where they were, and if anyone was close by. Satisfied with the darkness and silence, Graham climbed out, waving at Damien to come. Graham moved his flashlight back and forth surveying the room, trying to get his baring on where they were. He looked down at the large burlap sack that had been on top of the trap door. Kneeling down, he shined his light on it. There was a big picture of the state of Idaho with the word ‘potatoes’ written in large brown letters underneath. Standing back up, Graham looked around the small room at all the root vegetables and dried leaves that hung from the large timbers on the ceiling.
“This must be a root cellar or something,” said Graham.
“No kidding. What was your first clue?” replied Damien.
“Shut up.”
Damien smiled at Graham trying to keep his mind off his throbbing head by elevating his level of sarcasm. “We are definitely in a root cellar, but where? I have never seen one near Greenwood before? We can’t be that far away.”
Shrugging his shoulders, Graham replied, “I dunno. We will just have to get outside and look around. They both walked over to the door. Graham was the first to walk outside. A cool breeze blew over him as he took a few more steps. He was just about to say how much he loved it when the wind carried the scents of the lake below, but instead all that came out was a loud scream as the ground began to give way under his feet..
“GRAHAM!!! LOOK OUT!” Damien frantically grabbed for Graham as he fell, his hand finding the hood of his orange sweatshirt. Graham’s arms flailed in the air as he frantically tried grabbing for anything that would save him. As his body descended down the side of the cliff, his neck snapped back as the collar of his sweatshirt choked him from Damien’s tug. Damien pulled with all his strength, falling to his back. Graham was pulled back just in time for his butt to hit the ground with his legs dangling off this side of the cliff. His head hit the ground hard behind him with a thud.
“Graham, you ok amigo? You there?!” Damien asked, not knowing if he was able to save his friend.
“Mmmuhh…..yea, I thh..think so,” Graham mumbled.
He sat up with a twinge of pain in his spine. Trying to figure out what just happened, he looked around only to notice that they were on the edge of the cliff near the Orphanage. Looking over to his left, he saw a small dirt path that led up the hillside. Looking behind him, Graham could see the large stone wall that ran across the length of the edge of the cliff.
“We are below the cliff wall,” he said to Damien. With his head still throbbing and his back wracked in pain, he kept looking at the wall through squinted eyes. “Must have been the only way they could hide the entrance. The only way down here is a little goat path, if you can even call it that.”
Shuffling away from the edge of the cliff, Graham turned around to his knees and slowly stood up. The pain in his back worked its way up every vertebrae as he straightened. Damien also stood up brushing off his pants and sleeves.
Graham looked over at the little dirt path and motioned Damien to follow. Though the pain in Graham’s back made its presence known with every step he took, he knew they had to keep moving, or they would not make it in time. With only two feet of ground to walk on, the two put their backs and arms flat against the cold stone wall and began to side step their way up to the top level of the ground. Once there, they turned around, grabbed the top edge of the wall and swung their leg over, pulling themselves on top of the wall.
Before getting off the wall, Damien turned around to see the lake off in the distance as the light from
the moon lay on top of the water like silk ribbons. “Man, what a view,” said Damien. The moon was full, the air was crisp and the scents of Autumn were in every breath of the wind. Damien could not peel himself away from the glimmer of the lake below, and the beauty of the landscape in front of them. Maybe it was the thrill of being out at this time of night, or maybe it was because they had almost plummeted to their deaths, but he sat there on the wall as if in a trance. As Graham made his way over the wall and into the grass, Damien sat silently. He could not shift his gaze from the lake.
“Damien? Earth to Damien. Snap out of it, we need to keep moving.”
Damien blinked a few times to focus then hopped from the top of the stone wall. Far off to their left, they could see the shadowy form of Wellington standing out against the star lit sky. Now Graham knew where they were and where to go.
“We need to hug this tree line until we are past the face of the Orphanage. That will be where we went into the woods yesterday.”
Knowing that Graham could not use his flashlight here, he let the light from the moon guide their steps until they reached the entrance of the wooded trail. After they entered the woods, he waited until they traveled at least 50 or 60 feet in before retrieving the flashlight, though he could probably navigate these woods in total darkness if he wanted.
Running as fast as they could, Graham and Damien bobbed and weaved their way through the woods in record time as far as Graham could tell. Knowing Wellington would be a ghost town in the middle of the night, the two ran through the alley between two buildings and onto the cobblestone street. The both were relieved as they saw the black street lamps still lit up. Glad to have some good light, but not wanting to completely expose themselves, they ran over to the sidewalk and started jogging down the Market. As they ran, they passed the 2nd of three tall, elegant buildings in Wellington. It was very similar to Building 14, which was Graham’s typical perch. They could see the outlines of gargoyles along the may rooflines and corners. The one feature that made this one different, however, was the large clock that hung 3/4 of the way up it’s face like a pendant gracing a woman’s neck.