Tunnels

by Lesley Downie

  Huh. Forgetting my pain—because, you know, the foot massage did help—I got onto my knees and crawled over. He was right. It was a handle. And it was attached to something that looked like those man-hole covers downtown. But it was bigger than that. I knew the mayor's house was one of the oldest in Citrus Grove. All the old houses had weird stuff like this.

  "Can I see your flashlight?"

  He handed it to me and the light danced before us.

  "Let's open it," I said as I tugged on the handle. But it wouldn't budge. Probably rusted shut. David reached over and gave it a few tugs, too.

  "Needs a crowbar. We've got plenty on the fire truck, but I'm fresh out tonight."

  I nodded. Maybe it was better. I could come back alone and work at it myself. But I knew I'd have to sneak in next time. "It's probably nothing," I said, knowing it was absolutely something.

  Chapter Seventeen

  IS SOMEBODY TRYING TO KILL ME?

  After my wipe out in the garden, we went out for pizza. Both of us were completely starving on account of Chef Robert's fancy food and all the stupid forks they expected us to use. Little did I know sharing pizza with David wasn't going to be the best part of the night.

  But before the best part, a strange thing happened when we were hanging around outside of Antonio's Pizzeria waiting for Kenny. Last I checked, some girl was sitting on his lap, so I knew I had a while to decide how to thank David for taking care of me. Should I give a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek? A light punch on the arm? Everybody knows it's what guys and girls do when they like each other.

  Only I didn't have a chance for any of that because I noticed something weird. A man came out of the shadows of the alley beside the restaurant. Hunched over, his face was hidden by long hair and a beard so it was hard to tell how old he was. He went over to a bicycle leaning against a telephone pole and climbed on. That's when he pushed the hair out of his face and stared at me. Only that's not the weirdest part. Seemed like I knew him and I had no idea why.

  "So you want to make it official?" David asked when he grabbed my hand.

  "Huh?" My eyes were still glued on the old man, making sure he wasn't about to come over and throw down on us. I mean he's old but he could have a weapon. But it didn't happen at all. He just got on the bike and started riding off down Brookside Avenue.

  "Official," he said. "You know—hang out together at school and stuff?"

  Now that got my attention. Me. Cutest boy ever. Me saying, "YES!"

  And if my Dad hadn't pulled up and parked right beside us, then I maybe would've finally found out what the will-you-hang-out-with-me-kiss was like…or at least a good arm punch. Guess I can't blame Dad for his pizza addiction. Plus, where else was he supposed to go since Antonio's is the only pizza joint in town? Stupid Chef Robert and his cruddy foo-foo food. But even though I kinda understood, it didn't erase my irritation. Because if the interruption wasn't a buzz kill in itself, Dad offering to "take her off your hands and save you some gas" was.

  So instead, our parting kiss or arm punch was replaced with, "Okay see you tomorrow for the concert." And when I tried to sneak a quick hug when Dad walked away to go pick up his pizza, David just shook his head and laughed. Moment? Yeah, completely ruined.

  That was just last night and trust, all I'd thought about was my new status as David's number one girl. No mysterious bearded guys on my mind until now, eight o'clock Saturday morning. Usually way too early for me on a non-school day, but not now. I mean, how do you sleep after your crush says he wants to hang with you? Or some old guy completely creeped you out only twelve hours ago? Maybe I should talk to Evan about it.

  Mom had already left for the gym and Dad was puttering with the lawn mower. Demon boy was sick with the flu and, don't ask me why, but I felt a little bit sorry for him. Instead of telling him how much I hated him, I popped a few frosted cinnamon pastries into the toaster and brought him some juice with the toasty, cinnamon-y goodness. He was actually pretty sweet cuddled under the blanket, watching cartoons, too weak to be a little jerk.

  David was supposed to call me around four to say what time they'd pick me up for the concert tonight (because that's what boys do when they like you!). So it meant I only had seven hours max to go searching for the tunnels. Not much when you're trying to change the world…and get back in time to maybe get your first kiss or arm slug at the most amazing concert ever. So I had to get busy. Saturday morning, archaeology game-face totally on.

  "Hi, it's Kat—is Evan around?" I was speed-walking down Center Street with my cell phone (yes, the General finally gave in since I'm a hero). It'd been a week since I'd been down in the tunnel and I needed to get back on track. Trouble is, I'm afraid of who or what might be down there, ready to chase me out…or worse. At least Kirke hadn't visited me again.

  "Hello, Katherine!" His mom always calls me by my full name. "He's outside weeding the garden. If you hang on a minute I'll bring him the phone." Gardening wasn't Evan's thing, but he owed his parents big time for loaning him the money for some junior cosmetology school he's enrolled in. Evan's aunt is letting him wash hair and answer phones at her hair salon, and he totally wants to be ready to cut when he turns eighteen. Knowing his mom likes the chores done before nine a.m., I gave him a call without the worry of waking anyone up.

  "What?" He sounded breathless and in no mood to hear from me. Gardening was considered athletic to him and I guess I wasn't his favorite person at the moment.

  "Hang on," I said as I hitched the pack I was carrying onto my other shoulder. This time I was ready—pick axe, shovel, and a stronger flashlight. "Last night David and I went to the dinner at the mayor's house and at the end of the night I saw something weird." I stopped at the red traffic light and waited for the red man to change to white at the crosswalk.

  "What," I could hear him grunting as he spoke, probably pulling out some weed which was giving him a hard time, "did you look in the mirror?"

  "Aren't you so funny." I half expected the bearded man to show up while Evan was wasting time teasing me. "There was this old guy with a long beard and scraggily hair. He was giving me the stink eye, like he hated me. But it was hard to—"

  "Hello! Don't you ever listen to me?" If possible, he sounded more irritated than before and I wondered why. "It's how the guy I saw in the courtyard of the church the other day looked. But, no, you didn't believe me."

  Oops. Guess I should listen a little better. "But E—I did go and check behind the pillar and there wasn't anyone there," I reminded him. "You seriously think it's the same guy?"

  I heard him snort before he answered—another signature move to signal I was stupid beyond all comprehension. "Just how many guys do you think run around with beards practically down to their knees?"

  He had a point. "Alright—I get it," I agreed. "I'm sorry I didn't take you more seriously." The light changed and I jogged across the street. My ankle felt one hundred percent better.

  "Why do I hear cars in the background? Where are you going?"

  Should I tell him? I didn't want anyone trying to talk me out of what I was about to do. Then again, it would be good if somebody knew where I was heading in case I don't show up for dinner tonight.

  "Back down." I paused, trying to use my most convincing voice. "If you hurry you can meet me at the bus stop downtown. I have an idea the old irrigation channel on Pioneer will get me into the tunnels."

  "You've got to be kidding me." He sounded worried and angry. "Haven't you learned your lesson?"

  "You're starting to break up," I lied, scraping the mouthpiece of my awesomely new cell phone against my ring to make it all static-y. "I'll call you later." I hoped he believed me because he so doesn't like to be cut off. But I knew there was no point staying on the phone with him. It would just become an argument about me and my stupid decisions, and I wasn't about to waste any more time.

  After about twenty minutes of waiting for the bus because I'd just missed the ten o'clock, I heard Evan's voice behind me. "Hey
, who are you?"

  "Get out of my way, son!"

  Then I saw him, but just for a minute. The bike, the scraggly hair, the long beard. How long had he been watching me this time? And when he said the words "get out", well, I recognized that, too.

  "He's the guy! Should I go after him?"

  You could tell Evan wanted me to say no, but big points to him for offering. I knew since the guy was on a bike, there wasn't much chance of catching him anyhow—even if the man was probably in his eighties. It was easier to tell his age in daylight.

  "Nah, he's gone," I said when I was finally next to him. "So he's the guy you saw the other day at the church?" I asked. "'He's definitely the one I saw last night. And his voice—it's the same voice I heard in the tunnel when I was being chased last time."

  "Yup, he's the guy. Between the long beard and the bike, there's no question. Plus, the bike's the same one I saw parked against the wall when I rescued you from the tunnel the other day. I thought someone had left it because it's so old and broken down."

  Pfft. I don't know about rescued. Maybe helped would be a better word. I stared off into the distance, but the mystery man was long gone. Who was he? It was scary to think someone seemed to care so much about me, but not in a good way. He's got to be the one trying to keep me out of the tunnels. The only thing was, his head wasn’t shaped weird.

  "Dude," Evan punched my arm, "aren't you listening?"

  "Ouch!" I rubbed my arm. "Of course I'm listening. I'm just trying to figure out who he is."

  "I know—me, too. That's why I just asked you what I did."

  "Well excuse me for trying to figure out who's trying to kick our butts," I said. "Go ahead, tell me again what you said."

  He rolled his eyes. "I asked if you noticed the tattoo on his arm."

  "No." Like I'd had a chance to check out the guy's arm. "What was it?"

  "Can you say big red heart?"

  CLUE LIST

  (because every good archaeologist has one)

  Heart locations: could they be connected to the tunnels somehow?

  Church pillar with G.P. + E.V carved in it.

  The butt which was actually a heart—way to go, E—in first tunnel (although I did read the heart symbol was designed with the female butt in mind. Ew).

  Pops's journal said there was one in his basement.

  My shoe, marked-up by me, at some point I don't remember.

  Creepy guy's arm.

  Archways: do they lead somewhere?

  Saw one the day I fell through the hole when David rescued me with his fellow hot firemen.

  One was in my video when freaky lizard guy yelled at me to get out of the tunnel.

  Who or what is the thing with the long nose? Is it the old man or could it be he's leftover from the ancient lizard civilization? Like dinosaurs are the birds' ancestors? Or maybe the two of them are working together…

  Pops's lost map from when he was a kid

  He told us it was a map of the tunnels.

  Where is it? Will I get to dig through Pops's stuff?

  Newspaper clippings

  Story of Joseph Cooper going crazy from trying to find the tunnels.

  The poem written by Joseph's dad—clue to the tunnels? Joseph said it was.

  The spirit of Kirke H. Woods and the books he showed me

  Chapter Eighteen

  GOING BACK IN

  "I don't even know what to say about that," I said, turning away and walking back over to the bus stop. "It's too much to think about." And it was. If I were to continue with my tunnel search, I couldn't let fear stop me. Or the fact that hearts kept appearing everywhere.

  "Well, if you're gonna be stupid and go back down, at least you know the guy probably isn't down there waiting for you this time." Taking a big drink from his water bottle, he wiped his brow like he'd just climbed Everest. That's when I noticed his backpack and some long metal bar he was carrying.

  "Wow, you gonna use that ninja stick on the creepy guy?" I teased. Somehow it was hard to picture Evan fighting anyone.

  "Look, a good crow bar comes in handy more than you'd think," he said, rolling his eyes at me for the second time today as the bus pulled up. "Better get on if we're going to do this."

  After we sat down, I told him what I'd seen when I'd tripped in the mayor's garden. Of course he missed the point completely and instead accused me of falling on purpose so David could save me again. Holy schnauzers he was in a grumpy mood. Guess I was lucky he'd shown up at all.

  I'd wanted to go to the mayor's garden first thing today, but I'd heard her say a bunch of historians were touring her mansion on Saturday. It's not like I'd be able to stroll into the garden and start digging without getting noticed. So I'd just have to wait a day or two. If you haven't realized yet, patience and I don't get along too well.

  Fifteen minutes later we were stepping off the bus and standing alone on Pioneer—a street I never would have thought of as deserted before. But as I glanced left and then right, I saw no other cars or buses in sight, which was pretty eerie.

  "So where is this Zanja?" Evan asked as he took another swig of water. The dude seriously needed to stop plowing through his water ration unless he wanted to find a tree to pee behind.

  "I have the coordinates plugged into my GPS. Got 'em from the city plans. The notes in the file said one of the main entrances to the Zanja sits in the center of those trees over there." I pointed to my right where the orange groves seemed to grow all the way to the base of the mountains.

  All over Citrus Grove orange trees have been lining both sides of many streets for over a hundred years. But for some reason today I didn't see them as I normally did. Instead of beautiful and peaceful, they were exactly the opposite. Even the amazing smell of the orange blossoms couldn't change my mind.

  "Come on," I said as I stepped into the street to cross. "Let's go find it."

  Aside from the rustle of the branches in the breeze, the grove was quiet. A little too quiet. I kept turning my head from side to side, thinking I'd seen something shoot by out of the corner of my eye. But I couldn't tell Evan because I knew it'd scare him off—and I couldn't risk it. I needed the help and wanted the company.

  "These groves were once owned by the two guys who founded Citrus Grove," I said, mainly to just fill up the silence and calm my nerves. Facts always have that effect on me. "Tiberius Cypress and Henry Fern—"

  "What," he interrupted, "you a tour guide now?" He was already munching on some trail mix, because of course we'd burned so many calories on the bus ride over. "You forget I know all this stuff. My great-great-grandpa was here at the same time they were."

  "Holy crud, E. Just trying to keep things interesting."

  Since talking's out, I began jogging so he'd quit snacking and hurry up. The overly ripe oranges were bursting all over me when I stepped on them. I tried jumping over them as best I could, because it would be hard to explain to the General if I came home smelling like a smoothie. After lots of rows of trees, I slowed down and took another look at my Dad's GPS, which I'd scored from his car.

  "Only a little further, E."

  "Well then it's a good thing I've got my Dodger hat to protect me against incoming bat poo."

  And then, just seconds later, the GPS signaled we'd hit the spot. Weird thing was, all I saw was dirt—and lots of it. No marker, no nothing. Taking off my backpack, I unhooked the small hand shovel I'd attached to the outside of my pack. It's what Mom uses when she plants her flowers. She shouldn't miss it for a while because she'd just planted a butt-load of fall ones.

  "This is it, E," I said as I kneeled down and started shoveling away. It was still early enough in the year when the heat hadn't dried out the ground yet, so the shoveling wasn't hard. Plus, the grove must have just been watered a lot ‘cause the ground was soft and easy to scoop and move.

  "Let me help," he said as he got down next to me, "thought we could use this." He had a hoe so small it could have been made for the Lollypop Guild. I love
those guys even more than the Tin Man.

  We dug down about a foot before I noticed something. "Stop for a second, E." I wiped away the remaining dirt. "It looks just like the trapdoor I found up at the mayor's house."

  "Oh, you mean the thing that accidentally caused you to fall so lover boy could make it all better?"

  I shot him an eye roll but kept quiet. Getting a little sick of him accusing me of faking a wipeout. Did he actually think it was my heart's desire to convince David I was a big klutz?

  "Let's see if this one opens—the one at the mayor's was rusted closed." I grabbed at the circular handle, but no luck.

  "Let me try to wedge the crow bar under a corner," he said as he straddled the trapdoor.

  It didn't take much. The rusted seal cracked around the edges as soon as the crow bar slid into place. Grabbing the handle, I tugged while Evan continued to lift. It was just a second later that we were staring into a dark hole, where we saw the top of a wooden ladder extending down into the blackness. Didn't like it at all that we couldn't see more than a foot or so down.

  "Cool," I said calmly, the opposite of how I really felt. Turning around, I began to get myself ready to step down onto the ladder.

  "Oh no you don't," he said as he pushed me to the side. "It's not like fifth grade when you took all the credit for our erupting volcano."

  "Are you seriously going there again? Like I've said a million times, my baking soda, my eruption." The boy needs therapy. But instead of telling him he's psycho, I backed away and said, "Alright, go ahead." 'Cause the truth is, I didn't really want to go down into that pit first.

  So down he goes and disappears into the darkness. Grabbing the top of the ladder I followed, taking my first step down after him.