Finn stuck his head into his grandparents’ bedroom. “They’ve been here,” he said. “They’ve dug through everything.”
Michael’s body tensed, and he clenched his fist. His face flushed with heat.
“They robbed Grandpa and Grandma!” he said.
“They were looking for something,” Finn said.
Finn led them across the kitchen and stepped down toward the basement of the house. Michael and Rebecca illuminated the path ahead with their flashlights. Dusty household items and worn out jackets hung on nails lining the stairway as they descended.
“My guess is they were waiting outside last night,” Finn said. “They jumped in after we left.”
“What were they looking for?” Rebecca asked.
“Most likely they wanted to find Art’s stash of artifacts from the tunnels. The remaining items PJ didn’t get his hands on yet. At least now we know it’s important to them.”
At the bottom of the stairs, their flashlights lit a scattered mess stretching across the room. The clear path through the stacks of boxes was gone.
“I doubt they found what they were looking for,” Finn said as Michael scanned the area with his flashlight. The contents from dozens of boxes masked the entire floor and Finn climbed over the chaos to a far corner where the white paint on the cement bricks had worn away.
“Keep the light on me,” Finn instructed as he picked up a crowbar resting on a shelf next to him. Without warning he swung it back and then slammed the sharp end of the crowbar into a crack in the wall near the ground. The metal clanged when it hit, and he repeated the blow over and over, forming a rectangular crack like a door for a child. Eventually the crowbar lodged into one side of it, and Finn twisted it, straining as the block shifted forward. He jammed the crowbar further around the block at the top, pulling and rotating it outward an inch at a time until it slid forward enough for his hand to slip behind it. With one final heave, he pulled it forward far enough to climb inside if he wanted to. Finn gasped to catch his breath as Michael and Rebecca stood speechless, their eyes glued to the black hole. Finn lowered himself to the ground on his hands and knees and stretched his upper body into the hole, shifting himself around.
“Got it.” He backed out carefully, his head missing the top edge of the cement doorway by an inch or less. He used both hands to drag a metal toolbox across the ground, the metal squealing against the concrete basement floor.
“This here’s what they were looking for, I bet,” he panted.
Michael and Rebecca stepped forward as Finn unsnapped the lid and opened it.
At the top of the items inside was a circular bronze medallion the size of his palm. At the center was a large red stone surrounded by a network of embossed lines. It looked like something an ancient priest might wear around his neck during ceremonies.
“After PJ got all that stuff, I think he realized how valuable it was,” Finn said. “We analyzed the pieces we had and noticed a connection to the inscriptions on the walls of the temple. I’m sure PJ understands its purpose better than us since he’s been the only one down there for years now.”
“What is it for?” Michael asked.
“No idea, but Art thought it was something related to those black squid. The lines wrap around the stone like the bessies’ arms. Some symbols on the medallion matched those of some animal etchings on the tunnel walls.”
Beneath the medallion was a faded sheet of paper rolled up in a tube. He unfurled it and spread it out, revealing a chaotic web of lines and boxes covering the entire surface.
“This is the map of the tunnel system,” Finn said, handing it to Michael. “We drew it from an inscription on one of the walls down there.”
Rebecca pressed against Michael as they studied it together.
“The lines you see running all around, those are the tunnels,” Finn said. “The boxes are the rooms, and the other stuff we don’t know since we didn’t get very far down there. I doubt PJ got further than us. With the map, it’s dangerous. Without the map, I doubt anyone could find their way out of there.”
Finn crowded in with them and pointed at the various parts of the map. “There’s a temple below the church, and below that temple is a large, very large, area. I can only guess how big it is since I only got a glimpse of it, but based on this map, it could be ten times the size of this house.”
Finn pointed at lines leading into the large room. “Art and I think the bessies drag people there. Or one of the rooms above it. After that, I’m not sure what happens. No one’s gotten out. But we’re about to get them out, aren’t we?”
“Yes,” Rebecca said.
“So I think if we follow the map down to that room, we’ll find them somewhere around there.”
“Why do the bessies bring the people there?” Michael asked.
“No idea. But I’m sure it ain’t good.” Finn studied their faces. “I got you terrified, haven’t I?” he asked.
Michael swallowed. “We have to do it. I’ll do anything to get Grandpa back.”
“And Mom,” Rebecca said.
“And Ray,” Finn said. “And anyone else we find for that matter. So when we get into the church, I know how to get down to the temple. From there we have to use the map so just follow my lead after we get in.”
“What if we get lost?” Rebecca asked.
“Don’t,” Finn said as he turned toward the hole again. “Shine a flashlight over here again.”
She directed the light on him over to the hole where he dug inside a large box on a shelf near the floor. Metal clanged as Finn pulled out several machetes and set them in a pile on the ground next to him.
“We’ll need these,” he said. “More supplies upstairs.”
“Will we be able to breathe down there?” Michael asked.
Finn nodded. “Oh sure, the tunnels have been open enough to let in fresh air, at least down into the temple. If we encounter any bessies, which we will, be prepared for the worst.”
19
“I haven’t been in a cave before.” Michael laid out his backpack on the kitchen table next to Rebecca’s backpack and a pile of supplies Finn had gathered from the basement.
“It’s not a cave. It’s a bunch of tunnels.” Finn dug out more items from a box at the back of the kitchen pantry.
Rebecca made them some sandwiches, threw together a handful of snacks, and dropped everything into a plastic shopping bag.
They looked over their pile of supplies. Six flashlights, three military canteens full of water, the hand-drawn map, six machetes, food and snacks, six bottles of water, pistols, three assault rifles, and lots of ammo.
Finn distributed some items into each of their backpacks, and then put the rest into his own military style backpack. He stuffed all three assault rifles into their own bag. He glanced down at their clothes. “You both need to change your clothes. Shorts and a T-shirt won’t cut it down there. It’s cold and wet.”
“How long will we be down there?”
Finn shrugged. “Hopefully, not long. Go put on some warm clothes and a jacket. I’ve only been down there a few times, so I don’t know how deep the tunnels go. It’s hard to prepare for the unknown. It might be a little cramped in there. Neither one of you is claustrophobic are you?”
Rebecca shook her head.
“How cramped?” Michael asked.
“Well, whoever built that temple didn’t leave a lot of room in the tunnels for U-turns. Let’s get going then.”
They changed into warm clothes, carried everything out to the cargo bed of Finn’s truck, and climbed inside. Pulling out of his grandparents’ driveway, all three searched the surrounding roads for the unmistakable white dot signaling they were being watched. The roads were clear, and they made their way toward town.
Before they reached the main road, the cemetery came into view ahead of them, and they passed one of the white vans from the temple. It slowed as they approached, and Michael craned his head around to see if it turned around to follow
them, but it continued on its way.
They turned left at the cemetery, heading into town. Michael and Rebecca hunkered down low in their seats. They drove within a few blocks of the church and parked in the shade of several large trees hanging over the road.
“We have to walk a few blocks. The temple will recognize my truck after they find it,” Finn said. “Parking farther away might avoid suspicion.”
They climbed out of the truck and lifted their backpacks from the cargo bed.
“Keep your faces down,” Finn said. “We don’t want them to recognize us.”
Rebecca threw on her baseball cap and angled it down. They walked two blocks, within the edge of the church, when Maggie’s voice called out.
“Rebecca!” Maggie turned the corner up ahead and hurried over to them. After she stopped in front of them her head tilted, and she frowned, staring with a furrowed brow at their backpacks.
“What are you doing?”
“We’re going for a hike,” Rebecca said.
Maggie’s face lit up for a moment, but then went blank again. “With your backpacks? What’s in there?”
“Food and stuff.”
Maggie scowled at Michael and Finn. Then she pushed in and wrapped her hand around Rebecca’s elbow. “Let’s go hang at my place.”
“Tomorrow,” Rebecca said. “I promise, tomorrow.” She forced a smile and pulled her arm away.
“Whatever.” Maggie’s eyes narrowed.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow and explain everything,” Rebecca said.
Maggie studied Rebecca’s backpack closer. “What’s that poking out of the top?”
The tip of a machete had sliced through the top of her backpack, exposing the metal blade.
“Is that a knife?” Maggie asked.
Rebecca nodded and shifted her eyes from Finn to Maggie. “We’ve got camping stuff in there. I’ll tell you when we get back.”
“Okay,” Maggie said, “well, see you then.” She turned back in the direction she’d been heading and then glanced over her shoulder at them one last time before vanishing around the corner.
They marched the final block to the church and approached the chain link fence surrounding the orchard.
Finn dug through his backpack and pulled out a pair of bolt cutters. “This should do the trick.”
He snapped apart each link in the fence working his way down. Within a couple of minutes he’d opened a gap wide enough for them to squeeze through. Rebecca went first. Her backpack scraped against the severed metal wire as she pushed to the other side and hurried through the grass to the safety of the shadows beneath the apple trees. Michael went next and his backpack snagged a metal tip for a moment until he yanked it free. The metal links rattled, and a group of birds gathered in one of the trees fluttered away. Finn pushed through and attempted to conceal the opening he’d created.
“Good enough.” Finn gestured with his head for them to move forward. “Let’s roll.”
They weaved between the trees. Here, Michael had picked a basket of apples with his grandmother years earlier. The sunlight burst through the gaps in the branches.
Finn stopped in a clearing at a pair of painted black wooden doors laid out against the top of a cement border, like storm doors leading to the cellar. A heavy chain ran through metal loops fastening the cement structure. A thick lock held the chains together.
“That’s where we first discovered the temple,” Finn said. “We can’t get in through there.”
They continued, and then stopped at the end of the orchard. In the lawn between them and the church stood an old two-car garage that was painted black. Metal bars covered the single window on the wall facing them. Below the window on the ground was a single door, like a storm cellar door, in the middle of the orchard, and this one was also chained shut and painted black.
“Where does that door go?” Michael asked.
“No idea,” Finn said. “Don’t remember it being here before. But that building is where they used to keep a lawn mower and some equipment. I’m not sure what’s in there now.”
Finn bolted forward to the side of the black garage facing the orchard. “Follow me.”
They crouched down and stayed close behind Finn.
“Something smells,” Rebecca said after they got there.
“Like an outhouse.” Michael stepped away from the garage and grimaced.
Finn rolled his eyes and waved them in closer. “They don’t have cameras in the orchard yet,” Finn said, “but they do inside the church and around the outside. At least that’s what Art, Ray, and I figured out by watching the place. We always had a mind we might need to go back down into the tunnels again someday.”
“How are we getting in?” Michael asked.
“There’s a back door to the church. To go down the stairs, we have to block their cameras, so I brought a surprise.” Finn pulled out a paintball gun and aimed it at the camera as he peered around the corner like a sniper on a battlefield. Multi-colored balls blasted through the air and splattered the camera pink, blue, and red. They moved forward to the door at the back of the church.
Finn pulled out his car keys and flipped through them, stopping at one. “I have this skeleton key from years ago when I was the police chief. Opens any door in town, at least it did until I left the police force. I don’t know if they changed the locks. Let’s find out.”
The key didn’t turn.
“Well,” he said, “so much for that idea.”
“Can’t you cut it with the bolt cutters?” Michael asked.
“No. They used shrouded hardened steel for this lock,” he said. “No way to get through that. We’ll have to find another way in.”
They crept around the side of the church. Finn pointed to one of the small basement windows along the edge at ground level. Every window was painted black and had bars covering them, except this one had a bar hanging loose. Finn got down and ripped the loose bar away, tossing it into the grass next to him. He gripped the bar next to it and yanked it toward him. The lower bolt didn’t budge, but the upper bolt attached to the wooden frame of the church stripped out from the wood, and he could twist the bar over to the side. He tried another bar and again the top bolt, a little tougher to remove this time, also stripped out.
“The wood’s rotten,” Finn said.
All the bars on the basement window bent to the side, and Finn laid on the ground sideways, his feet facing the window, and pushed against the bottom part of the frame with increasing pressure. The window frame squeaked as he pushed until it crashed in and upwards. His foot caught the bottom of the frame before it crashed shut again.
He spun around and poked his head through the window into the dark basement below. “It’s clear,” he whispered, “but there’s a drop. I’ll go in first and catch you.”
He removed his backpack and the bag with the rifles, and climbed in. A moment later he slipped down out of sight.
“Okay,” he whispered from the darkness.
Michael lowered Finn’s backpack and the rifle bag. Rebecca went next, climbing in backward, and dropped her bag to Finn. Michael slid down after her. Their hands grabbed his legs for support as he slid along the wall to the church floor.
A musty smell hit his lungs. Fresh air had not blown through this area in a long time. The only light coming in was through the cracks in the small basement windows along the top edges of the room.
“This is where I went to Sunday school as a child,” Finn said, turning on his flashlight. He scanned the room and led them over through the kitchen to the back where a double-padlocked door waited for them.
“Get out your flashlights,” Finn said. “But keep a hand free until we’re in the temple.” Rebecca and Michael did as he instructed.
Finn lit up the padlocks and dug out the bolt cutters. “This’ll be a snap, literally.”
The bolt cutters sliced through the metal padlocks with ease. The door creaked open as Finn advanced. Another cloud of cold stale air passed o
ver them as they stepped inside an opening resembling a staircase to a basement. The concrete floor ended and dropped away into blackness. Finn descended, his boots clomping down onto wooden steps.
“Take your time and walk slowly,” Finn whispered. “These steps aren’t very strong. I should know, I helped Art build them.”
Their footsteps creaked against the wood, and the ruffling of their backpacks echoed against the walls. They went down the narrow staircase about twenty steps until the walls of the dirt tunnel ended at a stone door. Finn slid the two thick wooden beams from their metal holders on the sides of the door and pulled at the metal handle. The door squealed open and a rush of stagnant air blew across his face.
Michael gagged. “It smells like dead animals.”
“I know,” Finn said. “You should have smelled it the first time we opened it.”
A low rumbling sound, like a subtle vibration, started and stopped. They stepped forward and their shoes ground through the dirt coating every surface.
Engravings covered the walls like King Tut’s tomb. A circular sunken area in the center of the room, like a miniature amphitheater, surrounded a ring of stones. It was like the opening to the well his grandfather had described. The sunken area was bordered by a waist high wall with steps leading down to the well on four sides. A stone wheel capped the top of the well, and a rusted metal handle protruded from the top. A rope tied to the stone wheel led up to a pulley on the ceiling and over to a medieval contraption with cranks and pulleys against the wall.
Michael approached a wall depicting dozens of humans with skulls for heads surrounding a strange animal the size of a whale. It was nothing like the bessie terrorizing the town. The etchings were all black lines and some paint that had chipped away. Some figures bent on their knees as if worshiping it. The animal resembled a giant insect flipped upside down with two huge eyes and a bunch of smaller dots around its head. A square surrounded the creature as if it lived in a box with lines radiating outward toward other smaller boxes. Each box was a different shape and size and the lines zigged and zagged across the wall in no particular order. Words and drawings filled each box, but they made no sense. Some letters looked like English, but the rest of the letters were triangles and dots and odd geometric shapes. Maybe they were some kind of ancient math equation. Or maybe the people who lived down here long ago kept giant pets and the boxes were the cages. Another long rectangle further down showed dozens of stick figures rotated in every direction. Lines connected that box to other boxes. All the boxes connected to each other, and some lines ran across the entire length of the wall.
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