by R. L. King
“Can you find it?” Jason asked. “If it’s here, can you find where it is?”
“Not directly. Not without a lot more equipment and time than we have.”
Jason sighed, disappointed. Then he perked up. “But if they’ve got some kind of hidden entrance to something, maybe if we poke around enough we’ll spot someone using it.”
“Yes, that’s much more likely. Come on. Let’s go. It doesn’t take a lot of energy to keep this spell going, but I can’t do it indefinitely.”
They headed out again, staying close to walls and keeping their eyes open for anything that looked more out of the ordinary. They were lucky in that most of the patrons of the dungeon seemed now to have moved off into their various cubicles or larger areas, so there weren’t many people wandering the halls. They did have one close call when the middle-aged man from whom Verity had first gotten the directions to the dungeon’s entrance came weaving around a corner with another woman and nearly blundered into them, but they ducked into a nearby cubicle and managed to avoid him. Jason got one look at the couple inside and averted his eyes. He was an open-minded kind of guy and believed that anything consenting adults wanted to do together was absolutely A-OK, but that didn’t mean he wanted to watch. In any case, he doubted they would have noticed the arrival of a platoon of Marines, given how caught up in each other they were.
It took another twenty minutes or so to explore the rest of the dungeon area. It wasn’t as large as they’d initially thought—the maze of black dividers distorted its dimensions and made it seem much bigger than it really was. They glanced inside the large scene areas, peeked discreetly into the cubicles, and investigated both the men’s and women’s bathrooms. For this latter activity they had to drop the spell and hope for the best—Jason was reluctant to let Verity out of his sight long enough for her to check out the ladies’ room, but in the end he had to relent. He and Stone hovered outside the door, earning a couple sour looks from female patrons who had to walk past them to get inside, and were just about to go in after her when she emerged. “Nothing to report,” she said. “Three or four women putting on makeup, a couple more using the stalls, no extra doors or windows or anything. Just looks like a bathroom that really needs cleaning.”
Jason nodded. They’d encountered similar in the men’s room, except that two of the stalls were obviously in use for romantic encounters (“Why would they want to use the bathroom stalls when they’ve got a whole club to use?” Verity asked). Again, no extra doors or suspicious looking blank walls.
Stone sighed. “I’m running out of ideas,” he said. “We’ve checked out the whole area. Either we’re missing something, there’s nothing here to find, or it’s upstairs in the nightclub. We—” He stopped, because Verity had just poked him hard in the arm. “What?”
“Shh,” she whispered urgently, pointing. She’d turned to look behind them while Stone and Jason had been looking ahead. The two turned, and Jason had to stifle an exclamation of surprise.
Sauntering down the hall like they owned the place were two young men. Their body language didn’t suggest that they were a couple, but rather a clear contempt for their surroundings. As they moved closer, it was obvious they were both dressed in identical black leather jackets with the red-and-black circle logo of Dead Men Walking. The three watchers flattened themselves against the wall, holding their breath as the gangers moved past. If the either one noticed them, they gave no sign.
When they drew past, Stone pointed at them and nodded. Taking the cue, the three detached themselves from the wall and followed, leaving about ten feet between themselves and the gangers. The music was so loud that they weren’t concerned about being heard, but they still made every effort to move as quietly as they could.
Perhaps surprisingly given their usual propensity for causing trouble, the gangers didn’t do anything overtly threatening. They didn’t poke into the cubicles or otherwise disturb any of the dungeon’s patrons. They simply walked down the hallway, then took a left at an intersection. Stone and the others picked up their pace a bit to follow; their previous investigations had shown them that this particular hallway was flanked by the long wall of a large, closed scene area on the left side (a quick peek inside had shown it to be an elaborately staged church/funeral setup, complete with open casket at the front, with its entrance on the hallway from which they had just turned) and three smaller cubicles on the right. The wall at the end of the hallway was blank, and if Jason’s sense of direction was any good—which it usually was—it was the outer wall of the club.
Stone and the others hung back to watch what the gangers did. The pair moved past the first two cubicle entrances without a glance at them; their destination seemed to be the third cubicle. One pulled a folded cardboard sign from his pocket and affixed it to the curtain with two safety pins; it read Closed for Cleaning. Then both went inside. As soon as they disappeared through the curtain, Stone motioned Jason and Verity forward. They closed the distance and moved in close so they could see through the gap in the cubicle curtain. They glanced at each other, wide-eyed, when they saw what was happening.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
The far wall of the cubicle wasn’t a divider, but rather a continuation of the solid wall that represented the outer boundary of the building. Stone and the others had checked this cubicle before and the wall had been resolutely blank, but now one of the two gangers was on his knees fiddling with something under the bed, while the other waited with clear expectation near a spot in the middle of the wall. After a moment, just like in A Passage to India, a section of the wall shimmered, and a door came into existence where none had been before. It was a plain, metal door with the word Maintenance on the outside.
As soon as it appeared, the standing ganger fumbled in his pocket, pulled out a key, and opened it. He held it open to wait for his companion to get up, then the two of them went through it. From the other side of the curtain, Stone made a quick gesture at the door, and it stopped an inch before clicking closed again. The three waited anxiously to see whether the gangers noticed that it hadn’t closed.
“Holy shit,” Jason whispered after several seconds. “It’s just like the door at the restaurant. They’re even using the same ‘Maintenance’ trick.”
Stone shrugged as he headed inside. “Who looks in a maintenance closet?” He glanced around. “Get me something to block this door open.”
Jason pulled the threadbare pillow from the bed and tossed it to Stone, who used it to prop the door and let his spell holding it open drop.
“Where are they going?” Verity asked. “Secret room?”
“Let’s find out, shall we?” Stone said. “Let me go first—if it is a secret room and they’re in there, I can likely take them out faster than either of you two can. Be ready, though.”
Silently, he pushed the door open. Jason kept a close eye on him, while Verity watched the cubicle curtain to make sure nobody else was coming in. After a couple of tense moments, the mage’s call came back through the open door: “Come on in, and close the door behind you.”
Quickly, Jason and Verity followed him through the door. Jason picked up the pillow and tossed it back on the bed, then let the door click shut.
They stood at the top of a long, metal stairway. Their steps echoed eerily as they made their way slowly down about a floor’s height, until they stood in a short concrete tunnel. The tunnel was featureless except for some pipes running along one wall and a bare, incandescent bulb hanging overhead. Ahead about fifteen feet, they could see a T-intersection; the bulb’s light didn’t reach far enough to fully illuminate what was beyond, but it looked rougher, and didn’t appear to be made of the same concrete as their current tunnel. The air down here was chilly, and there was a faint hint of a breeze. The music from the floor above was muted.
“What…is this place?” Verity whispered, wrinkling her nose. “Smells like—garbage. And seaweed.”
Stone walked forward, keeping close to the wall of the concret
e tunnel until he reached the intersection. Cautiously he peered around in both directions, then pulled his head back. “It’s brick,” he said, his expression troubled. “This is very strange. If I didn’t know better—and I’m not sure I do—I’d say it was a storm sewer tunnel, and a very old one. I’ll bet if we follow it toward the ocean, we’ll find that it lets out there.”
“Why would they have a storm sewer attached to a nightclub?” Jason asked, confused.
“I don’t think it’s in use anymore—and it appears this concrete section isn’t part of the original design. I can’t see the other end of the brick tunnel—I think it might be blocked. Come on. Let’s check it out.” But instead of moving forward again, he suddenly put his hand to his chest. Before Jason could ask if something was wrong, he pulled out the small cage/detector. The crystals were glowing more brightly now. “Whatever it is,” the mage said softly, “I think we’re heading in the right direction. Look sharp and stay close. Remember, they have mages too.”
Staying close together, they first made a right turn. The tunnel, which was round and lined with brick and not tall enough for Stone or Jason to stand fully, extended for about twenty or thirty feet, then stopped abruptly. It was obvious that it had been blocked off on purpose; the opening was filled with concrete that looked much newer than the bricks.
“This place looks really old,” Verity said, nervous. “Are you sure it’s safe? If we had an earthquake right now—”
Stone glanced up. “They’ve reinforced it. Look.”
The other two looked up as well, and sure enough someone had added metal bracing to the top of the tunnel. Like the concrete, it looked much newer than the brickwork. “Curiouser and curiouser,” Stone muttered. “Come on.” He changed direction, moving down the tunnel in the direction of the ocean. “I think we’ll find a—” he started, but then stopped moving.
Jason and Verity nearly ran into him. “What?” Jason whispered, but he didn’t have to ask. Looking over Stone’s shoulder, he saw another hole in the side of the tunnel, this time on the other side and about twenty feet down in the ocean direction from the tunnel from which they’d just emerged. This one wasn’t lit, which is why they’d almost missed it. “Another one?”
“It appears that the club and something else are connected via these tunnels,” Stone said. He was looking grim now. “And look—I was right. The sewer exit out to the ocean is blocked.” He pointed, and his companions looked. The end of the tunnel was covered by a formidable-looking metal grate, the spaces between the bars so narrow that nothing bigger than a large rat or a small cat would be able to make it through. Most of the lower part was choked with garbage, seaweed, and other debris. They could hear the sea lapping beyond the opening, but it didn’t reach this high.
Verity glanced from the opening to the new tunnel. “Did anybody even notice what was next door to the club?” she asked.
Both Stone and Jason shook their heads. “Probably another warehouse,” Jason said. “But I didn’t see. I was too busy looking at the club.”
“Same,” Stone said. “We could go outside and look, but I don’t think it’s wise. I’m not sure I could get us past that door again if we let it lock, and it’s too risky to leave it open.”
Jason nodded. “Yeah…I think we better just move forward.” He was troubled. A large part of him wondered what the hell he was doing, leading his sister into something like this that was almost certainly dangerous. He knew there was no point in going without her—she was the only one among the three of them who had a shot at ending the Evil’s hold over this area—but that didn’t make him like it any more. He pulled a small flashlight from his pocket, switched it on, and moved forward with the others into the second concrete tunnel.
As they expected, there was another door at the end of it, similar to the one in the other tunnel. “What if it’s locked too?” Jason whispered to Stone. “Can you pick locks with magic?”
“Not one that formidable.” He put his finger to his lips and moved forward, putting his ear to the door. He listened for almost a full minute, then turned back to the others. “I don’t hear anything,” he told them. “Of course, that doesn’t mean much. We’re going to have to take a chance again. That’s assuming the door is unlocked. If it’s not, we’ll have to wait for someone else.” He reached out to the door handle. All three of them held their breath as he turned it.
It turned easily, and he swung the door minimally open.
Jason let his breath out. This is it. Only half-conscious of what he was doing, he slipped his hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his knife. Then he nodded to Stone.
The mage slowly opened the door a bit more. It appeared quite heavy, but moved silently on well-oiled hinges. When he saw no movement inside, he pushed it open the rest of the way and motioned for the others to move in fast. When they were all inside, he swung the door closed with a soft click.
They were at the foot of another metal stairway like the one inside the club. Moving slowly, they ascended it and found themselves in a long, narrow hallway only about four feet wide that stretched off to their left. The wall on the near side was solid; the other one was wooden and looked more temporary. Both were painted with years’ worth of faded graffiti. Another naked incandescent bulb illuminated the area.
“Do you smell something…weird?” Verity whispered.
Stone nodded, looking grim. “Something’s died in here, I think,” he murmured back.
“Oh, man…I hope it’s just a rat or something,” Jason said, glancing around.
“Shh,” Stone said. “We have to get out of this hallway. It’s too narrow—even with the spell up, we’re sitting ducks if anyone comes in.”
They walked quickly to the other end. Jason tried to look everywhere at once, afraid someone would ambush them even though Stone’s magic was concealing them. His gaze settled for a moment on the graffiti—it was a mishmash of gang symbols (all of them DMW), crudely painted horror imagery like severed heads and fanged demons, and obscene words and drawings. What he didn’t find was any Forgotten code symbols. Not even one. “I’m starting to wonder if we’ve found the DMW’s gang clubhouse,” he muttered. The idea did not appeal to him in the slightest.
At the end of the hallway was another door, but this one was much less substantial than the heavy metal one at the entrance. It was made of wood and had a cheap-looking knob without a lock. The smell was getting worse; whatever had died here had probably been here awhile. The putrid stench mingled unpleasantly with the odors of must, mildew, and far-off seawater. Stone stopped and listened at it again. “Put your light out,” he whispered, then turned the knob.
Again, the door opened easily. This seemed odd to Jason—if they were hiding something (or someone) in here, why leave all the doors unlocked? Maybe the magic door in the dungeon is the only way in, he decided. No point locking the place up if they’re the only ones who can even find it.
They paused for a moment to orient themselves. Directly to their left, along the same wall, was a large, heavy pair of double doors. These were firmly closed and locked with a thick chain and a padlock the size of a man’s hand. “Nobody’s getting in that way,” Jason whispered.
“Or out,” Stone agreed.
Verity was looking in the other direction. “What is this place?” she asked, pointing. Off to the right was a large open area; it was dimly lit by another of the ubiquitous incandescents, this one hanging high above them. Scattered around were what looked like broken racks and fixtures, along with a significant amount of trash and debris. Directly in front of them were several wooden workbenches built into the wall. They too were covered with broken items and more debris. Occasionally they heard the faint skitter of rats or mice moving around.
“It doesn’t look like a factory or a warehouse,” Jason said under his breath.
“Doesn’t smell like it, either,” Verity said. The stench was getting stronger, beginning to overpower the mildew and must.
�
�I think,” Stone said slowly, as if talking to himself, “it’s some sort of theater.”
Jason stared at him. “Theater?” He looked around, confused. “Here? This is the warehouse district.”
Stone shrugged. “We just came from a nightclub. It’s not uncommon to repurpose old warehouse or factory buildings. I think we’re in some kind of backstage or workshop area.”
“I think he’s right,” Verity said. She pointed up. “Look at all the catwalks and rigging and stuff up there. It all looks pretty messed up, but—”
“Come on,” Stone said. “Let’s keep moving.”
“Wait!” Verity whispered. “I think I heard something!”
Instantly all three of them went quiet, fading back until they stood with their backs to the padlocked double doors, as far from the door in which they had entered as they could manage. For several seconds they heard nothing but the rustling of the mice, but then off to their right came the sound of voices. The three watchers strained to hear what they were saying.
There were two speakers, both young and male, and they were coming from a shadowy area directly in front of the watchers. “Gotta get back,” one was saying. “Got another pickup in an hour.”
“Good,” the other one replied. “These ones’re gettin’ boring. Ain’t got much left in ’em.”
The first one laughed. “Yeah—need to figure out how to make ’em last longer.” They were approaching now: ahead of Stone and the others was a short stairway, and the two men were descending it. As they reached the ground it was clear that they were the same two DMW gangers who had gone in ahead of them. They made a left at the foot of the stairway without noticing the watchers, headed straight for the door where they had come in. They went quickly through and closed it behind them.