The Vivisectionist

by Ike Hamill

  “He would have gone this way,” said Stephen. “We said straight, second right, third left.”

  “Wait, third left?” asked Jack he was consulting his drawing of the map.

  “Yeah — let me see,” said Stephen. He turned to face the same direction as Jack and they both looked.

  “I don’t think this line here is supposed to be a hall,” said Jack, pointing at the first left off the passage they stood in front of. “This line was a different color, and I’m not sure it really intersects.”

  “Shit, you’re kidding,” said Stephen. He started to head down the passage to the right.

  “Stop, let me do this,” Jack had wriggled off his pack to get out the duck tape. He peeled off a strip and then divided it in two and tore on of those pieces in half. He laid out an arrow on the floor that pointed in the direction they came.

  “Okay,” said Jack.

  They continued down the hall, nearly crawling under the short ceiling. Jack was starting to feel uncomfortable in this confinement, but ignored it and moved quickly to find his friend. They passed one left turn and Jack stopped at the second.

  “I think this is the tunnel we want to take,” said Jack.

  “And Ben would have taken the next one,” said Stephen.

  “Yup,” said Jack, looking at his map again. “But he wouldn’t have even gotten there according to this.” he said.

  “There’s a trap on this hall?” Stephen had begun crawling down towards the third left, but this news brought him to a halt.

  “Yeah, check it out,” said Jack. The map showed an “X,” Jack’s version of the Jolly Roger, past the second real left.

  “BEN?” Jack yelled.

  They waited again to see if there would be a response, but heard nothing.

  “Hey Ben!” yelled Stephen.

  After a few moments, Stephen asked “So what do we do now? He probably tripped a booby trap or something. What if we get caught too?”

  “He wasn’t expecting it, but we are,” said Jack. “Let’s just take it really slow and try to figure it out.”

  “Okay,” said Stephen.

  On their hands and knees, they crawled nervously down the tight tunnel. Stephen took the lead and leaned down frequently to study the passage from a different angle. When they reached the third left turn without incident, Stephen turned around.

  “Shouldn’t we have hit something by now?” Stephen asked.

  “According to this we should have,” said Jack. “There should be another one down there also.” Jack pointed his light down the third left.

  “I wish Ben hadn’t gone on without that tape.”

  “Shit, we should have been marking these intersections?” said Jack.

  “Why? We just went straight,” Stephen argued.

  “Yeah, but if we get turned around, we’re not going to know what straight was,” said Jack.

  “Let’s go back then,” said Stephen. “Last thing we need is for all of us to get lost. We’ll mark them and then look harder for some sign of Ben.”

  “Okay,” said Jack. “Oh wait — if he’s trapped behind something, we might be able to still see his light. We should turn off our lights and see.”

  “Yeah, good idea.”

  When they switched off their lights Jack immediately noticed how loud his heart was beating. He could hear his own breathing, and if he focused, Stephen’s breathing as well. Suddenly they heard a familiar sound, distant and muffled.

  “Ben’s watch!” exclaimed Stephen. They both fumbled with their lights and they came on simultaneously.

  “Back this way,” said Jack. Shuffling back the way they came, they had to stop frequently to listen for the watch alarm. Jack stopped when they crouched between the second and third left. “It’s getting quieter.” he said.

  Stephen pressed his ear to the floor. “I think it’s coming from under here,” Stephen backed up and Jack came forward a bit. Jack put his ear to the floor and confirmed Stephen’s findings. “Hey Ben!” Stephen pounded on the floor with his palm.

  “Ben!” Jack added. They pounded for a few seconds and then waited. They could still hear a watch alarm going off, but nothing else. Pounding harder this time, their screams were almost becoming panicked. “Ben! Hey Bey!” they shouted.

  Stephen stopped and Jack paused as well.

  Muffled they both heard “Ungh,” from below the floor.

  “Can you hear us?” Stephen yelled. There was no reply.

  Jack felt around for any seam or crack in the floor. He pressed firmly on the floor, walls, and ceiling, looking for the trigger. Stephen followed Jack’s lead and soon they both pressed on every surface.

  “There’s got to be some…” Jack was cut off by a groan from below. It was louder than before.

  “Ben?” Stephen called. “Are. You. There?” he said slowly.

  They heard a muffled reply from below. Jack pressed his ear to the floor. “What?” said Jack. This time he could make out the reply.

  “I’m in a hole,” they heard Ben say from below.

  “How did you get down there?” yelled Jack.

  “I don’t know,” they heard Ben say. “It smells funny down here.”

  Stephen looked up at Jack — “We gotta find out how to get down there,” he whispered to Jack.

  “No shit,” said Jack.

  “What about the map?”

  “It doesn’t have that much detail — I don’t think we’re going to learn anything useful,” replied Jack.

  “Fuck me,” exclaimed Stephen.

  “He must have been crawling along and then done something to open up the floor,” said Jack

  “Yeah, unless he’s right, and there’s someone else here,” said Stephen.

  “Well, there’s nothing we could do if that’s true, so let’s assume it isn’t,” said Jack.

  “What are you guys doing?” Ben asked from below. “Get me out of here.”

  “Hold on,” yelled Jack. “We’re working on it.”

  “Call your parents!” Ben said.

  “I said hold on, Ben. We’re almost to you,” Jack lied.

  Stephen looked at him reproachfully and Jack shrugged his shoulders.

  “Let’s just try a couple of things,” Jack whispered. “Take this,” he handed Stephen his backpack. Jack started with flipping over onto his back and pressing against the ceiling with his feet. He thought he could feel the floor give a little where Ben sounded loudest.

  “We should just break the floor,” said Stephen. “That’s all the fire department would do.”

  “With what?” asked Jack.

  “Don’t we have a hammer or something?”

  “I don’t, no,” said Jack.

  “Hey Ben, you got a light down there,” said Stephen.

  “Yeah, but it doesn’t work,” Ben replied.

  “Shit,” said Stephen. “What if you need to shine a light on just the right thing or something?”

  “I don’t know,” said Jack. “Doesn’t sound like a reliable trap. You want it to get someone every time.”

  “Yeah, unless someone’s already in there,” said Stephen.

  “Hey! Maybe that’s it,” Jack was excited. “Maybe because he’s already down there, we can’t get it to open up!” Jack raised his voice again — “Hey Ben, how far apart are your walls? Can you lift up off the floor for a second?”

  “I don’t know,” they heard Ben say. “Yeah, but I can’t hold here long.”

  Jack backed up and waved for Stephen to do the same. Jack then tried to walk the way he had seen Ben move earlier — hunched way over with his right hand on the ground.

  “I can’t hold this much longer,” Ben said from below.

  The floor started to move right where Ben's voice sounded loudest. Jack braced his legs on the walls, and then leaned into his hand.

  The floor fell away as a trapdoor opened. Jack began to tumble into the hole. From the other side, Stephen’s hand shot out and grabbed Jack, arresting his fall. Jac
k regained his balance and braced himself against the far side.

  They couldn’t see Ben in the dark. Stephen let go of Jack’s hand and pointed his light into the hole just as Ben lost his grip on the walls and fell to the floor. With Ben’s weight pressing down at the bottom of the pit, the trapdoor began to rise back up into place, but Jack thrust his hand in the gap to stop it from closing.

  The trapdoor shut hard on Jack’s hand and he cried out in pain. “Get off the floor!” he yelled to Ben below. Ben sprung back up, and Jack pull his hand out.

  “Bag,” Jack said to Stephen, reaching toward his pack. When he had his pack propping open the door he looked down at Ben — “Okay” Jack said.

  Ben lowered himself to the floor and the door closed on Jack’s pack but was unable to latch.

  “Give me a hand, will you?” Jack reached his injured hand toward Stephen who took it in both of his. Stephen pulled Jack to the far side of the hole. They looked through the gap made by the backpack. Ben stood about ten feet below.

  The pit was narrow enough — Ben could brace his back against one wall and his feet against the other to hold himself off the floor. Jack suggested that might be his way out.

  “Can you climb up here by bracing against the wall?” Jack asked Ben.

  “Maybe,” Ben said. “Catch” he said as he threw his backpack up to Stephen.

  He put his back against one wall and pushed with bent legs against the opposite. Pressing behind himself, he could raise his back up several inches and then shuffle his feet up. When he got bolder with his arms, and pushed himself up about a foot, he really started to make progress.

  “Get ready to grab me — I don’t know what I’m going to do at the top,” said Ben.

  “Okay,” said Jack.

  Jack and Stephen pressed the trapdoor out of the way completely now that Ben’s weight was off the floor. When Ben got high enough he had to step on the folded trapdoor to go higher.

  “I should have started the other way,” said Ben.

  “Yeah, but it would be harder to pull you out if you were sideways,” said Jack.

  “Just get a little higher and we can grab you,” said Stephen. “Oh shit — you’re head is totally fucked up.”

  “Yeah? It really kills,” said Ben.

  Stephen shone his light on Ben’s head where his hair was matted down with blood. Ben slid his torso up as high as he could without planting feet on the trapdoor. “This is it,” Ben said. He raised his arms up to Stephen and Jack. They each grabbed a hand, and leaning over the edge of the hole, tried to grab Ben under his armpits.

  “Okay, go slow,” said Jack.

  With support, Ben was able to kick against the folded trapdoor and get even higher. His feet flailed somewhat when they got his head and shoulders above the floor level, but then Ben kicked off and popped out of the hole to fall in a heap with Jack and Stephen. The trapdoor closed behind him and snapped into place.

  “Jesus, you okay?” asked Jack.

  “I don’t know,” Ben gently patted at his head with his hand. “How does it look.”

  “Bad,” said Stephen. “Were you like knocked out or something?”

  “I think so,” said Ben. “I woke up in the dark and my alarm was going off. I was upside down, like resting on my head.”

  “Wow, that sucks,” said Jack.

  “Yeah, no kidding,” said Ben. “Which way out?”

  “That way,” pointed Stephen. “We’re on the wrong side of that thing,” he waved at the trapdoor.

  “I think we can stretch across,” said Jack.

  Ben tried to get his flashlight to come on, but it was stubborn. Jack handed him an extra light from his pack and Ben stowed the broken one.

  “So much for that stupid map,” said Ben.

  “No, the map’s okay,” said Jack. “We just miscounted the number of turns.”

  “My bad,” said Stephen.

  “Well, whatever, let’s get gone,” said Ben.

  “Yeah, too bad though,” said Jack. “It’s not even noon yet.”

  “You want to keep going?” Ben was furious. “I might have to go get stitches, ass.”

  “It’s not that bad, Ben,” said Stephen. “Are you sure you don’t want to just hang out for a second while we look for the next area?”

  “Yeah, I’m fucking sure,” yelled Ben. After raising his voice he grabbed his head with new pain. Jack rolled his eyes at Ben’s discomfort.

  “Okay, no sweat, we’ll get going then,” said Stephen.

  Jack grabbed his pack and tossed it past the trapdoor. Reaching past the seam, he straddled the hole and then hopped his feet across. Once on the other side, he collected his pack and shone his light so Ben could see.

  “Here,” Ben slid his pack. He reached across and tried to copy Jack’s move, but he was clumsy and barely made it. Right behind him, Stephen made it look easy.

  As they made their way out of the hotel, each obstacle seemed to present more of a challenge for Ben. He was barely able to haul himself up the five-foot climbs in the maze section, even with help from above and below. He took several minutes to work up the nerve to attempt the long jump in the attic. In the bishop’s room, Ben’s balance faltered and he kept slipping from the white tiles, triggering the door to close: sixty seconds each time.

  By the time they made it outside, Ben felt like he was under attack from Jack and Stephen, and they both felt that Ben was being dramatic about his injury.

  “You should wash your head in the creek,” said Jack.

  “No way — it will totally get infected,” replied Ben.

  “You’ll be okay,” said Jack. “We’ve never gotten infected before.”

  “This is a head wound,” said Ben. “We’ve never exactly had a head wound.”

  “Same difference,” said Jack. “Besides, what are you going to tell my mom?”

  “Seriously? That’s what you’re worried about?” asked Ben. “I’ll tell her whatever I want. Shit, I’ll tell her the truth. But whatever I tell her doesn’t matter, as long as I get my head fixed up.”

  “Yeah, Ben, you’re right,” mediated Stephen. “You need to get fixed up — let’s get you fixed up.”

  Stephen led Ben through the woods towards the path.

  Jack followed, but was still irritated and it showed in the way he stomped through the woods. Stephen shot Jack a look.

  Stephen had his arm across Ben’s shoulders. Jack carried Ben’s pack.

  Stephen broke the silence in a reasonable, calm voice — “When we get back we’ll find Jack’s mom right away.”

  “Yeah, good idea,” said Ben.

  “We might as well tell her you hit your head in the woods though,” said Stephen. Ben began to protest, but Stephen kept talking — “I mean it doesn’t really matter, as long as you get to the hospital — right?”

  “You think I’ll have to go to the hospital?” asked Ben.

  “I don’t know, but probably, ’cause it’s Jack’s mom,” answered Stephen.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well if it were Jack, she’d probably just look at it and say he could just wash it off, but she’s not going to say that to someone else’s kid,” said Stephen. “She’d be too afraid of getting sued or something.”

  “That’s crazy,” said Ben. “She’s known my mom forever, she’ll won’t treat me any different.”

  “Remember that time you scraped your leg on that tree out back?” Jack joined in from behind. “And my mom made you call your mom?”

  “Yeah, that's right,” said Ben. “You guys know I hate the hospital. You’re just trying to get me to keep quiet.”

  “Look, if your mom was answering the phone, I’m sure you wouldn’t have to go,” said Stephen. “But if Jack’s mom can’t get in touch with her, then you’re screwed.”

  “I didn’t think of that,” said Ben. “Man, I really don’t want to go.”

  “It won’t be that bad,” said Stephen. “In and out.”

  �
�What’s my head look like, anyway?” asked Ben. “Is there like a huge gash?”

  “Umm, can’t see, you’ll have to get down,” said Stephen.

  Ben got on his knees and Stephen inspected his cut. Right at his hairline, above his forehead, Ben had a scrape and a cut about an inch long. His matted hair made it difficult to see the extent of the injury, but Stephen guessed that it might call for stitches.

  “Yup,” said Stephen. “You’re going to the hospital.”

  Jack was surprised at Stephen’s answer. He thought that Stephen was trying to convince Ben not to tell anyone, but now Stephen sounded serious. Peeking over Stephen’s shoulder, Jack saw that Stephen was right — in the daylight he could tell this was too serious to be covered up.

  “What do you think, Jack?” asked Ben.

  Jack paused and considered lying. This might be his last chance to salvage the possibility of exploring the hotel.

  “He’s right — you need a doctor,” said Jack. “It won’t be like last time though — I swear. It’s totally different when you’re going in for an injury. When I hurt my arm I was out in a couple of hours.”

  Ben sighed — hospitals were his least favorite subject — “Last time I went in, I was in and out for months.”

  “Come on, you’re not getting any better here,” said Stephen.

  Jack shifted Ben’s pack to his right hand so he prop up Ben with his left. Jack and Stephen practically carried Ben back to the house.

  CHAPTER 13

  The Boy

  When he heard the crash above, the boy froze. He held a “halogen otoscope” — used by doctors to examine the ear drum. It provided just enough light for him to see about three feet down the hall. He stole it during his escape from the room with the chair. He took the otoscope, some slippers, and a labcoat.

  He turned off the light and listened. He stood in a long corridor with a black-and-white tile floor, white walls, and no lights. He could hear his own heartbeat and breathing, but no more noises from above. Too afraid to move, he pulled the coat tight and tried not to shiver.

  He stood there frozen for several minutes, until he remembered the chair. The thought of being tied down again got his feet moving. He shuffled down the hall and turned the otoscope back on.