by penny watson
“You wanted to know the Klaus family secrets? Well, you’re about to get more than you bargained for.” He pulled a snug hat over his head.
“Guess you don’t need a scarf. With that nice thick beard.” Andi thought a joke might lighten the mood.
His smile was lukewarm. “Another point in favor of the beard. You’ll have to tell my brother Gregor that one. He keeps trying to get me to cut my hair and shave off the wilderness accessory.”
“That would be a shame. You look… Well, you look like you. I wouldn’t shave it off.” Andi hoped her blush was hidden by the scarf. She fidgeted in her seat. “So are you gonna tell me the big secret or not?”
“I think I’d rather show you. If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”
“Try me. I’ve interviewed folks about alien invasions, vampires, Bigfoot. I have a very open mind.”
“Not open enough.” He slid a pair of snow goggles over his face and grabbed the door handle. “Ready? We’re making a run for it. To the tunnel entrance.”
“Tunnel? What tunnel? We are in the middle of nowhere, if you hadn’t noticed. Nothing. Nada. No buildings, no people. There isn’t a tunnel here.”
“There’s a tunnel. You just can’t see it. I’m coming over to your side of the car, I’m taking your hand, and I’m leading you to the tunnel entrance. Don’t let go of my hand. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I understand.” Actually, Andi didn’t understand. Not a damned thing. But Sven seemed pretty adamant about the hand-holding, so she figured she’d just go with it.
He nodded. “Okay.”
The next thing she knew, the door was pushed open, the wind and snow and ice flew into the car, and then Sven was next to her, grabbing her hand and pulling her out of the vehicle. There was no visibility. White on white on white. Snowflakes whipping around their heads and gusts of wind that sounded like a crying woman.
She stumbled along, gripping Sven’s hand with nervous apprehension. Where the hell are we going?
Sven pulled her to the ground and she watched his gloves burrow under the snow. A moment later a dark hole opened up in front of her.
Dark, foreboding. A big gaping hole in the middle of nowhere.
And suddenly Sven was pulling her down, down into the darkness, like Alice in Wonderland.
Sven groped along the tunnel wall until he found the light switch. Somehow the elves had hidden solar panels above-ground which powered up the dim lights in the tunnel. Not that it erased the feeling of claustrophobia. But at least it was better than complete darkness.
As the lights snapped on above their heads, he assessed their situation.
The speeder railway car was parked on the end of the tracks. That was good. It was powered by elfin magik. The train didn’t move very fast, but it got the job done. It would take hours to get to the end. Slow and steady was the elfin creed.
He had no idea if the safeguards were in place. Or if Ulrich had received his last desperate text message—to shut off the safeguards and allow him free passage to Glasdorf. That fun bit of information would come later.
He turned to find Andi gazing around the tunnel in awe. The look on her face was comical.
“There’s a tunnel. In the middle of nowhere. In Alaska.”
“Told you.”
Andi’s eyes got wider as she stared at the speeder car. “What is that?”
“Custom-made speeder railway motor car.”
“Does anyone else know about this?”
“Only my family.”
“Who made the tunnel?”
“The tunnel was dug by our employees many, many years ago. The tracks and motor cars were installed within the last century.”
Andi shuffled over the tracks and stood gawking in front of the tunnel walls. “This is incredible. I’ve never seen—” She touched the rocks gingerly. “What is it? All these colors… Is this gold?”
Sven nodded. “Gold, quartz, amethyst, cinnabar, jade, rhodonite, epidote. Alaska has a very rich geologic history.”
Andi shot him an incredulous look. “And no one knows about this place but your family? That is insane.”
Sven laughed. “Oh, hon, you don’t even know insane. We gotta get going. We’re trying to beat the worst of the storm. We have a lot of distance to cover.”
“Am I hallucinating? Did you put a roofie in my water bottle or something?” Andi stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at Sven with overt hostility. “This isn’t funny, Klaus. What is going on?”
“I’m taking you to the toyshop. That’s what you wanted, right?”
“You have a secret passageway to the toyshop? That sure would come in handy if you were transporting illegal products. Wouldn’t it?”
He sighed. “It sure would. But we’re not. This is for our own personal transportation. It’s not luxurious. It’s not fancy. It’s cold. It’s dark. And unfortunately, we might have some unexpected visitors and unnatural phenomena to deal with. So I suggest you get your sexy little butt in the car so we can get going.”
Andi bit her lip. He could see the wheels spinning in her diabolical brain. On one hand, she was probably totally freaked out. And on the other hand…the story. It was just too good an opportunity to pass up.
Sven leaned down from the speeder car and offered his hand. “Don’t you want the story?”
She hesitated for just a moment and then reached up to him. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into the car. The doors slammed shut. He checked the controls and turned on the engine. Once they got going, he could switch on the autopilot option. A low creaking sound accompanied the beginning of their journey. They both sat down as the train slowly began to move. Clacking along the tracks. Sven kept his eyes on the tunnel walls.
Watching vigilantly.
Watching for movement.
Watching for ripples.
Waiting for danger.
So…
There was a dark, creepy tunnel carved through Alaska with a weird railway car and walls streaked with gold. For the Klaus family’s personal use. As a secret passageway to their toyshop.
Andi had interviewed some serious fruitcakes in her day. Old guys who believed aliens had abducted them, women who swore they were Dracula’s bride, campers who claimed they saw Bigfoot in the woods.
Some folks were lonely. They just wanted someone to listen.
Some were narcissists. They needed to be the center of attention.
And some were looking for a quick buck.
Andi was pretty good at figuring out a source’s motivation. Money, fame, attention.
Up until now, Sven Klaus appeared to be a hardworking, devoted semi-hippie son and brother. With a talent for woodworking.
But now, as he sat next to her in the dark motorcar, with his eyes glued to the tunnel walls, she had the feeling she didn’t know Sven Klaus at all.
“What are you looking for?”
Sven’s body was tense as he stared out the windshield.
“What do you mean?”
“You haven’t taken your eyes off the tunnel since we started. Expecting trouble?”
“Always. Always expect trouble in the tunnel. Be prepared for anything.”
“I don’t mean to sound disrespectful, but you’re starting to sound like Abel Rosinberg.”
Sven’s gaze flicked to her face. “Who’s Abel Rosinberg?”
“Abel Rosinberg was a ninety-two-year-old coot who lived in the North Pacific forest. He swore that he’d been abducted by aliens no less than thirteen times. And I think he told me that exact same thing when I interviewed him. Always expect trouble.”
Sven laughed. “I can only imagine the characters you’ve met on your job.” He glanced at her again. “Has that always been your job? Working for The Scoop?”
Andi bristled at his tone of voice. “No. No, it has not. I’ve had many jobs. College newspaper reporter. Researcher. I’ve written grant proposals, scientific abstracts, short stories, English papers for cash.” She stared out the wind
ow of the motorcar, her eyes straining in the darkness. “I started doing freelance stuff for the tabloids when I needed extra money. And then…I always needed extra money. And writing grants wasn’t cutting it.”
Sven nodded. “I understand. Sometimes work is work. Not your favorite thing in the world. But it pays the bills, fulfills your obligations.” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “If you didn’t have to worry about the money, would you still do it?”
“Do what? Write for the tabloids?”
“Yeah.”
“Hell, no. I mean, I am good at it, God help me. But that would never be my first choice for a career. Alien abduction stories are not that fulfilling.”
Sven played with the controls on the front panel, and the headlights got brighter. “What would you do?” he asked. “If you could do anything? Would you still write? You told me that was your creative expression. You told me you were good.” He glanced at her. “Were you just putting me on?”
“No. I…um…love writing. Always have. Even when I was a little girl.” Andi sneaked a peek at him. He was still preoccupied with the tunnel.
She cleared her throat and answered softly. “Poetry. I like writing poems.”
Sven’s attention swung to her face, shrouded in the shadows of the motorcar. “Poetry?”
“Yes.”
She waited for the ridicule.
Sven answered, with not a hint of derision, “You have the soul of a poet trapped inside a tabloid reporter?”
She shrugged. “Not any more. Maybe I used to have the soul of a poet. But hunger, hospital bills, and death have a way of crushing all of those romantic notions out of you. Nothing left in this soul but the cold hard reality of life.”
Sven was silent for a moment.
What is he thinking? Have I revealed too much?
“When did you start writing poetry? And when did you stop?” he asked.
He seemed genuinely interested, so she continued.
“I started when I was about ten years old.” She took a deep breath, remembering her little white notebook. Filled with poetry. Filled with dreams. Scratched on a piece of paper with a chewed-up pencil. “And I stopped…after I graduated from college. I won a poetry award my senior year. I had stars in my eyes, dreams of literary fame.” She huffed out a self-deprecating laugh. “And then my dad had his accident. Just a few months after graduation. And suddenly writing poetry was a self-absorbed preoccupation. My family needed me. And that was that. No more time for poetic expression.”
“Just because you’re looking out for your family doesn’t mean your heart’s desire shrivels up and dies. It’s still there.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Yeah, well, the paycheck comes first. Not that you or your family would ever worry about that, Mr. Millionaire.” She couldn’t suppress her resentment. “What’s your heart’s desire? Creating the longest toy train? Making a wooden airplane that really flies? What is it?” She cringed when she heard the bitterness in her voice.
He didn’t rise to the bait. “No. It’s not about the toys. I love creating things with wood. Functional things. Chairs. Tables. Beds. I would chuck the whole toy-making business right out the window if I could.” He grimaced. “But I can’t. I’m Chief Toy Designer for Klaus Enterprises. That’s what I do. That’s what my father expects from me.” He sighed. “I’m sorry about your family struggles, Andi. Honestly sorry. I can’t apologize for my family’s wealth. But believe me when I tell you it’s not always easy-street at Klaus Enterprises.”
Andi reddened with embarrassment. “I know that. Sorry.” She thought about the cuts and calluses on his hands, a testament to his hard work and dedication. “Why doesn’t your father approve of your furniture designs?”
“My father doesn’t know about my furniture designs. I haven’t told him yet.”
“Why not?”
“Do you tell your family about the poems you still secretly write?”
Andi froze. “How do you know that? How do you know I still write—”
Sven smiled. “Because it doesn’t go away. Just because there are bills to pay. That soul-of-a-poet thing lasts a lifetime. No matter how hard you try to squash it.”
Andi was shocked by his accurate insight into her “secret” hobby. “No, I don’t tell them. I don’t want them to feel guilty about what I do. I don’t want them to think I’m sacrificing anything for them. They are the most important thing to me.”
“So what do you tell them about the tabloid stories?”
“They think I like it. I tell them it’s funny, it’s good for a laugh. It’s good for a buck.” She stared out the windshield as veins of gold raced by. “I don’t want them to know it’s sucking out my soul.”
Sven grabbed her wrist and forced her to look at him. “So you lie.”
“Excuse me?”
“You lie. To protect your family.”
“It’s… I have to. I don’t want them to worry about me, I don’t want them to worry about money and bills. I have to protect them.”
Sven searched her face for a moment. For…something. She didn’t know what. Finally, he sat back in his seat.
“What if… What if you could do both? Do you think it’s possible? Is it possible to balance family obligation and your creative dream?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. I’m usually too tired when I get home from work to focus on poetry. My brain is mush. But sometimes… Yeah, sometimes I wonder if it’s possible. Why are you asking me?”
“Because I’m about to find out. I’m working on Christmas toy orders for Klaus Enterprises. And I’m opening up a new furniture design studio in Manhattan very soon. Let’s hope multi-tasking is one of my talents.”
Andi gazed at Sven’s profile. His intense eyes scanning the tunnel. The thick beard she ached to touch. His strong hands—covered with calluses and cuts—that gripped the steering wheel. And suddenly she knew. There wasn’t a cover-up for drugs or illegal child labor or environmental pollution. There was too much goodness and integrity in Sven Klaus to be involved with something like that.
“So what is it?”
Sven glanced at her. “What?”
She swiveled in her chair to face Sven. “I believe you. No cover-up with Klaus Enterprises. You don’t have it in you to abuse child employees or pollute the environment. No drug-running. So what is it, Sven? Why the secrecy about your company? I just don’t get it. You have an underground tunnel, for cripes’ sake. Why?”
Sven licked his lips. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“You have to tell me sometime. Why not now?”
“You just told me you lie to protect your family. Well, I do, too. There is more at stake than hurt feelings or public humiliation. There are lives at stake, Andi. And if I have to lie to protect my family, I’ll do it.”
“Whose lives?” Andi’s skin was tingling all over. She was so close to the secret… She could feel it. About to spill out from Sven Klaus’s lips.
“I can’t tell you. Anyway, you couldn’t handle it. I don’t want you to get hysterical before we get there. We still have a lot to deal with before we get to the gates.”
“Do I seem like the hysterical type to you?” Andi rolled her eyes. She was seriously losing patience with Mr. Beardy Giant.
Suddenly Sven’s posture changed. He tensed and uttered “Fuck” under his breath. “We’re about to find out,” he whispered.
The walls were moving.
That’s how it always started.
After Sven’s last run-in with the frost flowers, he’d had nightmares for weeks about the tunnel. Where the walls would come alive, hissing, creaking, reaching with silvery fingers and crackling leaves.
“Um, Sven. Something’s—”
“I know. Reach under your seat and grab one of the flamethrower torches. Andi. Andi!”
Her eyes were glued to the tunnel. Eyes, wide and unblinking. A loud thump ricocheted off the back of the speeder car. Andi jumped in the air.
Sven groped under his seat and felt at least half a dozen torches. He grabbed the largest one.
The wheels of the car screeched, like nails on a chalkboard. The vines were crossing the tracks, trying to stop the car and trap them inside.
“Andi, take this.” He handed her a smaller flamethrower, one that looked like something she could handle. “Have you ever used a torch like this?”
She nodded. “Um…yeah. My dad likes to weld. He has a lot of these.” Her face glanced back at the tunnel walls, which were now undulating with vines. “Sven. What is happening?” she asked with a thready voice.
He grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Look at me, honey.” Her eyes found his and she finally blinked. “You just promised me you weren’t the hysterical type. Remember?”
“I remember. But—”
“No buts. No time for buts. This is the real deal. Ulrich obviously didn’t get my message, and now we have to handle the fall-out. I know it seems impossible. I know it seems crazy. I swear I’ll explain everything. After. But right now, you need your wits about you. Snap out of it. Where’s the bad-ass tabloid reporter? I need her now. Right. Now.”
Andi banged her forehead with heel of her hand. “Okay. She’s here. Miss Bad-Ass. After we deal with this…this…whatever this is, you are gonna spill your guts and tell me what the hell is going on!” She grabbed the flamethrower and faced the exterior of the car. “What do I do?”
Sven tried to ignore the guilt gnawing at him for putting her in this situation. He knew what her nightmares would be like. “These are frost flowers. These vines grow fast, they’re strong and flexible, and they are searching for heat. Our heat. They’re made entirely of ice. And they have one single purpose—to stop us from reaching the end of the tunnel.”
She stared at him like he was crazy. He continued.
“They only live in the first part of the passageway. If we can blast our way out of this, we won’t have to deal with them again.” He lifted the torch and faced the doors.
“If? If? What do you mean…if?” Andi turned on the torch. “I have spent months tracking this story. I forced myself to get all glammed up for that dumb gala, sneaked onto an airplane, got tossed around in a snowstorm, and am now freezing my ass off in some bizarre tunnel in Alaska. There is no way I’m going down before I get the end of this damned story.” She crouched next to the speeder door. “Plants made of ice. Sure. Whatever. Let’s go.”