by Brian Harmon
Fresh terror rushed through her.
“Relax,” said the mysterious voice again, and somehow she did relax. There was something soothing about the voice and she found herself embracing it. “It will be gone in a moment and it will not return. In the meantime, I need you to listen very closely to what I have to say. Lives depend on you.”
Chapter 3
“Do you think he hurt her?” Brandy sat in the front passenger seat of Albert’s aging Ford. Nicole and Wayne had climbed into the cramped back seat.
“I don’t know,” replied Albert.
“She obviously wasn’t that hurt if she was still demanding to know what we saw,” Nicole said. She reached over and touched Wayne’s hand. He had been staring silently out the window. He looked at her, gave her a pitiful, half-attempt at a smile and then turned away again.
“She really didn’t want to go in there,” Albert said, pondering. “She flipped out when he carried her toward the door.”
“How could she be so obsessed with that place and not want to go inside?” Brandy wondered. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Albert pulled onto Redwood Avenue, which bisected the campus at an angle from northwest to southeast. It was still fairly early, and the campus would still be crawling with students for another couple of hours, but they might get lucky. With Wayne’s help, they should be able to move the cover off the service tunnel entrance, get in and cover it back over relatively quickly.
“I think she was just nuts,” Nicole said. “We’re probably lucky she didn’t pull a gun on us or something.”
Albert had already thought about this. Considering how desperate she’d been to learn what they found, it seemed surprising that she wasn’t armed, especially considering that there were four of them and only one of her. She’d also been directly involved in the deaths of four people. With something like that on your hands, why not go ahead and get the information you want at gunpoint?
“I’ve never attacked anyone like that,” Wayne said miserably. “I swear I’m never that violent.”
“Forget it,” Albert said. “Not your fault.”
Brandy agreed. “You were upset over Olivia. We all were, and she was just begging for it.”
“Still, I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have thrown her like that!”
Nicole gave his hand another reassuring squeeze.
“It’s not like you punched her out,” Brandy said.
“She sent her in there,” Wayne continued. He was talking about Olivia. “She sent all of them in there. She killed them all.” He turned away from the window and looked at Nicole. “And she knew it wasn’t safe. She told me it wasn’t safe. She told me that’s why she picked me. Because I was big.”
Not big enough, Albert thought. The memory of that monster lifting Wayne by his head in one huge hand made him shudder.
“I can’t believe she’d even show her face,” Nicole said. “We could totally go to the police if we wanted, tell them about her crazy letters and how we found bodies in there.”
“They wouldn’t believe us,” said Brandy.
“She seemed to think I already knew who she was,” Albert remembered. “Maybe she approached us because she thought we already knew she was there.”
“If we went to the police and told them about the envelopes,” pressed Nicole, “and just that we went into Gilbert House through that cellar door and found the bodies, if we said nothing about the rest of it, they’d have no reason not to check it out. Then they’d see everything for themselves.”
“That’s true.” Brandy turned to Albert. “I wonder if we should tell someone.”
Albert wasn’t paying attention. He was thinking about Beverly Bridger and the hostility with which she’d approached them. Why no weapon? Why all the secrecy? It didn’t make sense. And what was with her accusing him of stealing her file?
“I don’t know,” said Nicole. “It seems wrong to just leave those people in there and not tell anybody where they are.”
“Gilbert House should be forgotten,” said Wayne as he gazed out the window. “Wherever we were when we were in there, I don’t think people were meant to go there.”
“He’s got a point,” Albert said. “Do you know how many police officers and crime scene investigators would have to go in there if we told them where to find those bodies? And then who gets involved? Scientists? The military?”
“So we should just leave them there?” Nicole asked, her voice understandably doubtful.
Albert shook his head. “I don’t know. We should go to the temple first. Maybe then we’ll know what to do.” He turned off of Redwood and onto Third Street, and drove south toward Jackson Street. “I wonder what she knows. She knew about the temple, said she dreamt it.”
“Do you think she was there?” Brandy asked. A shiver ran through her at the thought. It was terrifying to think that they could have been watched the whole time they were down there. And if Beverly had seen them, could someone else have seen them too? How many pairs of eyes could have been on them as they roamed those dark corridors? She remembered the things she and Albert did inside the sex room and the thought of someone standing in the dark, watching the whole thing… It was mortifying.
Albert considered the idea. “I don’t see how.” It was awful dark down there, but it would have been difficult to stay out of sight and not get lost or stumble into a trap. He supposed it would be possible, however, assuming someone knew the corridors well enough.
“Do you think she really dreamed it?” Brandy sounded skeptical, but she knew better than to dismiss anything. Nothing was impossible. The temple had taught her that.
Albert shook his head. He had no idea. The woman was an enigma to him, as mysterious as the wooden box that first brought him into these bizarre worlds thirteen months ago.
He turned west onto Jackson Street. The nearest place to park to the service tunnel entrance was the south parking lot, by the stadium.
“Maybe she did,” Nicole said. “It wouldn’t be much different from the phone calls you two were getting.”
“I guess that’s true,” Albert agreed.
“Phone calls?” Wayne inquired.
Albert forgot that Wayne still knew very little about his and Brandy’s experiences with the temple. “I told you that we found the temple last year…”
Wayne recalled that Albert had referred to it as “the Temple of the Blind.”
“Last night, we started getting these strange phone calls. We’d pick up and nobody was there. It was just silence, except that while we listened, we kept remembering things we saw down there. Really strong mental images. It felt like we were being called back. Then we got the envelope and I figured they must be connected, but so far I haven’t seen how.”
“So you think those phone calls were…what? Some sort of psychic telegraphs?”
“Yeah. Just like that.”
“Weird.”
“Not the weirdest thing you’ve seen or heard today,” Nicole pointed out.
“True.” He no longer doubted anything that Albert told him. Between the monster that nearly crushed his skull and the dark forest and five-story building that only existed on one side of an old cellar door, his former perception of what was possible had already been obliterated. He now fully believed that there were men with no eyes and underground chambers designed to make him fear and hate uncontrollably.
Albert pulled into the south parking lot via its northeast drive and drove west, along the northern edge. The signs read simply “Perimeter Parking” and “Any Permit,” but it was commonly referred to as “the south lot” or “the big lot”. It was huge, stretching back into the forest and wrapping around behind the college stadium. This was the lot where people parked when they were not lucky enough to get a good parking permit. It was not terribly far from Happens, Juggers or the field house, which was fine if you happened to be an art, music or physical education major, but if you majored in anything else, you had to exp
ect a hike.
“Thanks for bringing me along, guys,” Wayne said. Nicole had taken her hand from his and was staring out the window toward Juggers Hall. Behind it was the place Albert and Brandy told her about, the place where they’re great adventure began. She could not believe she was finally going there.
“Don’t thank us yet,” Albert said. “It’s just as dangerous down there as it was in Gilbert House. Maybe more so. You can still change your mind, if you want.”
Wayne shook his head. “No. I want to come. You said you came to Gilbert House because you thought it had something to do with what you found down there. Maybe it does. If so I want to know.”
Albert nodded. “Then welcome aboard.” He found a spot in the third row from the stadium and parked the car.
“Besides,” Nicole added, “if we run into anything we don’t like, he can rough it up for us.”
Albert chuckled. “I thought for a second you were going to toss her right down the cellar steps, like it or not.”
“That’s so bad,” Brandy giggled. “I hope she’s all right.”
“So do I,” said Wayne. There was no humor in his voice.
Chapter 4
By the time the four of them arrived at the back steps of Juggers Hall, darkness had fallen and there were only two people within sight of the tunnel’s entrance.
“Doesn’t look too bad,” said Wayne, as he eyed the two students nervously. He’d never done anything like this before. He couldn’t help but wonder how many rules they were about to break.
“Doesn’t look bad at all,” Albert agreed. “I expected a lot more people to be out, especially on a Friday night.” He looked at his watch. “It’s still early.”
“Maybe people don’t want to hang out on dark campus sidewalks on a Friday night,” suggested Nicole. She stared at the metal plate that covered the service tunnel entrance. She’d walked right over that spot countless times since Albert and Brandy first told her the story, and each time she could not help but think of all the wondrous things she knew lay somewhere beneath it. She’d wanted so badly for so long to go down there and now she was finally getting her chance. It was almost more than she could stand.
They stood and watched as the two students walked away from them. They were young men, dressed in workout clothes. They were probably on their way home from the field house. Neither paid them any attention and when they were gone, only the four of them remained. The entire area was deserted and the only sound was the soft, droning roar of the nearby power plant.
“We should do it fast,” Wayne said.
As the four of them walked to the tunnel’s entrance, Albert recalled the first time he moved that heavy, metal cover. He and Brandy had nearly been spotted by a group of students who happened to walk by. He remembered standing silently in the darkness below, waiting for them to leave, his skin crawling at the thought of unseen things slithering and slinking toward him. It had been an awful experience, and he certainly didn’t want to relive it tonight. This time, they would be quicker.
Albert and Wayne lifted the cover and each of them descended into the darkness before another pedestrian could wander by.
“Well,” said Wayne after the cover was securely replaced above his head. “We’re in the sewers. Now what?”
Albert turned on his flashlight and began to walk toward the power plant as he studied the wall. “Brandy marked these walls last time. If the paint’s still here, we won’t need the map.”
“Sound’s like a plan,” said Wayne. “So is it still there?”
Albert continued to search. For a moment he thought it was not, that it had either faded during the past thirteen months or that someone had come along and cleaned it off, but then he found it, marking the first turn down a sloping tunnel to the left. “Here it is,” he announced. “Let’s go.”
The past few weeks in Briar Hills had been rainy and the tunnels were considerably wetter than they were the first time Albert and Brandy traveled them. The first time, almost everything had been damp, but now small pools of water stood in many of the tunnels and the smell of mildew and decay was much worse.
They spoke little as they walked, each of them anxious and thoughtful as they wondered what awaited them ahead.
Everything was vividly familiar to Albert, as though it had only been yesterday that he and Brandy ventured these spooky corridors together. But this time, knowing where they were going and eager to get there, everything passed almost in a blur as he pushed on and on, past the steam tunnels and into the deeper, colder passages beyond.
Like last time, he found himself dwelling on the complexity of these tunnels. Did Briar Hills really need so many tunnels? Was there really a purpose for each of these passages? It just didn’t seem to match the simplicity of the streets and buildings above.
Wayne thought nothing of the massive tangle of tunnels. He barely even noticed them as he walked. He dwelled on the events of the day instead. He remembered that morning, so many long, long hours before, how he’d nearly slept with his roommate’s girlfriend. God, but that seemed like so long ago. Days ago. He remembered walking away from her, feeling as though he’d won, that he’d proven himself a decent and honest person, but right now he didn’t feel like it. He’d promised Olivia Shadey that he’d take care of her, promised her he wouldn’t let anything happen to her, and he failed her. He’d tried his best. He’d done all he could to keep her safe. He even stood between her and that monster. He physically placed himself in front of her. He almost died for her. How could he have known that there was something else, something bigger, something worse, that would creep up from behind them and snatch her away like that? But still he was haunted by the fact that he’d failed to keep his promise to her. It seemed he wasn’t very good at keeping promises, no matter how good his intentions were. Now she would never be married, would never have a child, would never live out her dreams, whatever they may have been. It was a tragedy. And it was his fault.
But that was behind him now. No matter how bad he felt, he couldn’t just turn around and crawl home. He had to keep going. He wasn’t here to prove anything to anyone. He wasn’t here for some grand adventure. He wasn’t even here to avenge Olivia Shadey. It was too late for that. The dead were dead. He came here for himself, to at least try and understand why. And also because he had seen between those great, stubby fingers what really happened in that third floor hallway.
Albert Cross had nearly died next to him, not because he couldn’t get away, but because he threw himself at the monster in a futile attempt to save Wayne’s life. His. Wayne Oakley’s. A nobody he’d only just met. Even through the pain of those great, machine-like fingers squeezing his skull, he’d seen how Albert risked his life to save him when he and the girls could have made a run for it, should have made a run for it.
These were good people. He’d already seen enough to know it. Nicole Smart was kind to him, had comforted him in the car, had stood up for him for what he did to that crazy woman outside Gilbert House. Brandy and Nicole had both tried so hard to take care of Olivia when they regrouped, and he remembered seeing the compassion in their eyes, the depth of their sincerity. He remembered the way Brandy Rudman held Olivia’s hand as they made their way through the hall, trying to escape.
He’d been doubtful about them at first. Albert had come off arrogant and snotty as they explored the basement, but Wayne soon realized that it was not arrogance but confidence, and he was not a bit snotty, but rather thoughtful, alert, aware. He was a very intelligent person. And the girls had turned out to be strong and smart and kind. These were three very good people, and he’d be damned if they were going anywhere a fraction as dangerous as Wendell Gilbert’s hell house without him. Besides, perhaps this was where his life had always been leading him. Perhaps these dark tunnels were where God always intended him to be.
From somewhere up ahead, they heard the sound of running water, as though they were approaching a creek in the woods instead of ducking through underground t
unnels, and Albert knew immediately what was in store. Thirteen months ago he and Brandy begrudgingly waded through a pool of standing water in one of these tunnels. This time the rains had turned the tunnel into an underground stream.
Brandy growled, frustrated. “I hate this tunnel!”
“Come on,” Albert said. It’s running water this time. It’s got to be cleaner.” Indeed, the garbage that had lain strewn across the bottom the previous year was gone, washed away in the current. The only rubbish to be seen was the occasional scrap of litter emerging from one darkness and vanishing into the next.
“In the sewers?” Nicole was skeptical.
“It’s just runoff from the streets,” Albert explained. He stepped off into the water and sucked in his breath. It was deeper than before and felt as cold as ice. “Come on everybody. We’re almost there.”
Brandy stepped into the flooded tunnel with a groan and Nicole followed. She made a pitiful whining noise in her throat as her socks soaked up the cold water.
Wayne stepped in after them without hesitating. “Oh yeah!” he hissed. “That’s cold.”
Albert shined his light ahead. “We’re just going right down there.”
“Even runoff is dirty,” Nicole said, grimacing at the feel of the cold, disgusting water on her feet.
“I’m sorry,” said Albert.
“It’s okay.” And it was. Nicole had wanted to come and see Albert and Brandy’s Temple of the Blind since she first heard the story and now she was finally getting her chance. There was no way in hell she was going to turn back because of water, whether it was spring water, runoff or raw sewage.
The four of them stepped into the next tunnel, which was mercifully dry, and made their way to the next. One by one, they crawled the tight, narrow passage to the hole that allowed access to the final tunnel between them and the Temple of the Blind.
“Wow,” said Wayne. “How old do you suppose this tunnel is?”
“I’m guessing this is the original one,” Albert replied. “As old as the temple itself.”