Tunnels

by Lesley Downie

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  BIG ANSWERS

  Evan was right. We found plenty behind the wall—ten or so boxes full of different stuff. "Who do you think all this belongs to?"

  "Beats me." He shrugged. "Why don't you climb back into the basement and I'll start handing you boxes?" After about five minutes, we had them all spread out around us.

  "This is so cool." I found a place on the basement floor and pulled a box over to me. "Why don't you choose your own and we'll see what we find?" He must have been as excited as me because for once he didn't argue.

  The first box was marked RATIONS/HOUSE SUPPLIES. There were some coupon books with ration stamps on top. I knew these were traded in for certain foods like meat and cheese during World War II. With not enough food to go around back then, the ration stamps were used to get your fair share of what was available. I couldn't imagine worrying about having enough food to feed my family. It must have been super hard on people.

  The edges of the ration books were yellowed and worn, but the stamps inside were still colorful. Each was marked with letters and numbers, like F5 and D2, and each represented the different foods you could trade the stamp in for. Grandma told me there still was never enough food for most people, even with the stamps. She said after the war was over, they were so used to doing without it was hard to get used to having more than enough. I can remember even up until she died we couldn't get her to throw stuff away. Even food which was getting pretty gross and past its expiration date. Used to drive Mom nuts, but I totally understood.

  As I dug deeper, I found an odd collection. Candles, matches, an old wind-up watch, a mint with a dead bug stuck to its wrapper (ew), a yo-yo, and an old map with words written by hand at the top: AIR RAID MARSHALS FOR SECTOR NINE, CITRUS GROVE. My Great Grandpa Cy—G.G. was what I called him—used to tell me stories about the nineteen forties. How there were mandatory drills to practice what to do in case airplane bombers were headed toward America's coast.

  "We'd pull down the black-out shades so there was no light to guide the enemy with their bombs," he'd said when I was seven, sitting on his lap and listening to every word. He told me his sister, Bernice, had been taken to a concentration camp at Auschwitz in Poland. G.G. was already safe in America by then. A few years before the Nazis started invading the Jewish neighborhoods in Poland, he'd come here to work. G.G. never saw his sister again, and I always hugged him a little tighter because of the tears I'd see in his eyes whenever he talked about her. He'd also get on my case about appreciating Sam more. "You just never know how important someone is to you until they're gone." I tried to keep reminding myself what he said, but it's hard when your super annoying brother thinks it's his job to be the superhero of annoying brothers.

  Staring back down at the map, I ran my finger along the street Dad grew up on, until I finally saw my grandpa's name. Cy Goldstein. Wow…so cool. Sure wish he was still around.

  But it was the next box which surprised me the most. There was a piece of paper taped to the lid with a note on it: "Emily, we think you should have the letters you wrote to George. He'd want that. Love, Lois & George Sr." This had to mean his parents believed he wasn't coming home. Wow, this must be why Emily hid the boxes before she went away. The notes were important to her, and maybe all the other stuff was what she wanted to use for their new house when they were finally married. Guess she hid her stuff so it'd be safe while she went to Europe. But why hadn't she trusted her family to hang on to her belongings? I'd probably never know the real answer.

  I read through the love notes and didn't see much out of the ordinary to give me any clues. It wasn't until I got near the bottom of the pile when I hit the jackpot. The first lines of the letter were filled with normal stuff people write when they're in love. It was further along in the note when things got juicy and I couldn't believe my luck.

  January 13, 1942

  My dearest George:

  Whoever said thirteen is an unlucky number was wrong because I got to see you today. I hope you find this letter tonight instead of soggy and wet on the clothes line, still deep in your pocket.

  I'm so happy and thankful we have our tunnels to keep us safe in case of an attack. The atrocity of Pearl Harbor has left us all on high alert, but I pray we can protect each other and our families if we must. Your idea of marking the safest places in the tunnels with hearts was brilliant—you are so smart. Even President Roosevelt has said so, and you have the thank you letter to prove it.

  Huh? The president knew George? Emily's George? Wow, this was a big deal.

  I pray the day won't arrive when your number comes up, because I couldn't bear to see you leave. It is destiny I become your wife and help build our house on Sunset Drive. I dream about our plot of land, how when you finish your architectural studies, we can work together, side-by-side, to make it real.

  Meet you at the usual place tomorrow, my love!

  Your Em

  "Hey!" I couldn't wait to tell Evan what I'd found out. "George and Emily found the tunnels and used them for protection! They wanted to have a place to take their families in case California was attacked like Pearl Harbor was! And guess what else? He marked the safest places in the tunnels with hearts!" I was about to bust a gut (Dad says this when he's excited, but it does kinda fit in this case). So much information in this one little letter.

  His face became chalk-white with my words, like he'd seen a ghost or his favorite hair gel was no longer being manufactured.

  That's right, big time shock on his face. And when he spoke, I learned why.

  "Do you realize what all this means?" His hand was shaking as he pushed his hair out of his eyes. "George must still be alive. He's got to be the guy who followed you. Remember the heart tattoo on his arm?"

  Wow. He's right. The longer I sat there the more I understood, and it was like things became so clear. The two of them felt like they had an eternal connection. And Emily dying in Europe must have been more than George could handle. I'd never been in love, but I got it.

  But it still didn't explain why he'd been following me. I was staring down at the letter in my lap when something clicked.

  "Remember the note at your Aunt Emily's grave?" I asked. "Did you ever find out what day her birthday was?"

  "Huh?" But he was only confused for a second before what I was thinking registered in his own mind. If there was ever a time a brightly shining light bulb should appear above someone's head, it was now.

  "October twenty-fifth," he answered. "Crud! That's today!"

  My heart was racing. This meant only one thing. We had to make sure George didn't fulfill his promise to join Emily. We had to keep him from doing the most final thing of all.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  TRAPPED

  "E, did you feel that?" We were about halfway up the basement stairs. "I think we just had an aftershock from the earthquake this morning."

  "Yup, that one I felt," he said. "And look at the light."

  It was swaying on its long chain and I watched it, waiting for it to stop. But it didn't and neither did the rumbling beneath our feet.

  "E, I don't think it's going to stop!" The wood stairs were shaking now, the vibrations growing stronger each second. I gripped the railing tighter to keep my footing.

  "You're right!" He pointed to the shelves on the other side of the basement. Paint cans and old containers were rattling and beginning to fall to the cement floor.

  This one was bad, and I couldn't help but think this was what all the geologists had been warning us about. The San Andreas Fault was finally ready to break California apart, and Nevada was about to become ocean front property. In fact, maybe the Super Volcano in Yosemite had finally erupted and the quake was from that. For the first time in my life I wondered if I was going to die. Even in the tunnels I hadn't been this scared.

  "Let's get out of here!" I pulled on his arm because he seemed frozen in place.

  Finally we reached the top of the staircase and I grabbed the doo
rknob. A loud crash came from the other side of the basement door before I had a chance to open it. But when I finally tried, that door wasn't going anywhere. Even pushing with my shoulder didn't work. My super Kat strength was an epic failure right now.

  "Won't move!" Tiny pinpoints of light jetted back and forth in front of my eyes, like I was on the Star Tours ride at Disneyland. Must slow down my breathing so I don't pass out. Evan pushed me out of the way, grabbed the knob, and threw all his weight against the door. Still nothing.

  "We're trapped!" he yelled. "Pops's old bookcase must have fallen in front of the door. It weighs a ton." He grunted, still pushing even though we both knew it was a lost cause.

  "We've got to get under something," I pulled his arm. "Downstairs, under the old table over there." It was time to drop and cover. We'd done it a million times during school drills. But drills are more like a game when you sneak a text off to a friend while the teacher is squished under her own desk. Totally different when the ceiling could fully crush you at any second.

  It felt as though I was going to take a header down the stairs, even though he was pulling at the back of my shirt to keep me close to him. My legs were wobbly and I hoped he wouldn't have to drag me the rest of the way.

  Once we hit the last stair, the railing we'd just been holding gave way and crashed to the ground. We jumped out of the way then slid under the table like it was home base. He even broke his no-hand-holding rule and grabbed mine. We both curled into a ball and held on to each other. The ground was shaking and we were, too.

  "What if the house collapses, E?" I yelled. I wished I'd told Mom and Dad where I'd be. What if we were buried down here?

  "Just hang on. Remember what I told you? This house has been through a lot of earth—"

  A loud groaning noise cut him off and we both peered up at the walls. Holding my breath, I prayed they'd stay put until we were out of there.

  "Dude, we have to go now!" I yelled.

  "But the only way out is through the hole!"

  Not such a great idea if you ask me. I mean, where does the hole lead to anyhow? Was it just a small space where Emily hid the boxes or did it go further to a place where we'd be buried forever?

  Chips of paint began raining down from the ceiling and I could see a crack forming above us, which immediately traveled toward the opposite wall. When would the floor above us fall through and bury us? Weren't the walls what kept the house standing? If the ceiling collapsed then everything would be history, including us.

  Crawling out from under the table, we held our arms over our heads in case something fell.

  "You first," he yelled when we got to where we'd made the hole.

  I stepped through, then grabbed his hand to help him. The shaking was lessening, but the groaning from the house was growing louder. I felt off balance as I tried to focus on the walls. Were they moving or was I just dizzy?

  "Come on," he said. "Let's get as far away from here as we can."

  "But it's dark and—"

  Just then, all the lights went out in the basement and he screamed. For a boy who still sleeps with the lights on, this was beyond scary.

  "Calm down, E," I said, even though I wanted to scream too. But I knew we had to get focused to save ourselves. It was pitch black now and neither of us had a flashlight.

  "Okay," his voice was trembling, "let's go. You lead, I'll follow."

  Lead? "Do you know something I don't? I thought this was just a room."

  "There's more. I'm just not sure what. I think if you feel along the wall with your left hand, you'll run into a hallway or—"

  "Tunnel?" I asked. I'd imagined the tunnels could be sitting right under some of the oldest houses in Citrus Grove. Have we actually found another access point? Discovery happens by accident sometimes. Sometimes it doesn't matter how much planning and thinking you do as an archaeologist. Luck has a lot to do with it.

  The lights flickered in the basement then—like a strobe light. But it was in that minute when I saw it and realized Evan was right. This wasn't just a room.

  "Here, grab my hand. I'll get us out of here."

  We needed to save ourselves. Then we needed to find George.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  HELP FROM THE OTHER SIDE

  I couldn't stop shivering. Was I in shock or was something else making my muscles twitch and my heart beat fast? As if the tunnels were answering me, a breeze floated past us. Huh? Last I checked, wind doesn't just happen ten feet below ground. And if that wasn't bad enough, somewhere in the pitch black, water was dripping. It felt like we were in some freaky post-apocalyptic movie.

  After a while, when the shivering wouldn't go away, I came to a conclusion. "E, does it feel like we're being followed?"

  "Oh, you aren't going there, are you?" he asked. "You need to stop watching those ghost hunting shows. We don't need to worry about anything but getting out of here, so keep it zipped."

  And then, when I didn't say anything back because what was the point, he said, "Look, puh-lease don't start writing the next hit paranormal TV show starring Kat and Evan. There's been an earthquake, we're stuck in a tunnel, and that's all there is."

  "Whatever, E. Way to back up the team, dude." I was angry and hurt. We'd just been through a major near-death experience, and he couldn't hear me out? Big jerk. I'd just keep my mouth shut from now on.

  But a minute later, as if things were cool between us, he grabbed my arm. "Hey, I totally forgot I put this in my pocket this morning!"

  My face lit up as he pointed a small pen light at me. "Better late than never," I grumbled.

  "You know how Dad's always picking up this stuff at those tool conferences he goes to?" he asked. "He gave this to me at breakfast."

  "Yeah, well at least he didn't give you another tube of lip balm with some wrench company advertised on the side."

  "I know, right?"

  Since we didn't need to hold on to the wall anymore, we walked faster and made up a lot of time using the light.

  "Psst."

  "What? I'm right here." Why was he pssting me?

  "What are you talking about?" He stopped abruptly and I ran smack into him. "I know you're right behind me."

  Huh? "You didn't 'psst' me?" How strange. Was I hearing stuff now?

  "Nope, think you're losing it, Cupcake."

  Losing it? Not even. If I was going to go all crazy it would've been when I was chased in the tunnels, or at the library with Ms. Finstead the other night. But I kept my mouth shut as we began jogging along. Arguing about stupid stuff was a waste of time. We needed out of here. Now.

  "Bet we're close to town," Evan said. "Now we've got to figure how to get out of here and find George."

  "Exactly. Keep shining the light on the walls in case there's a door or an exit." In the distance I was sure I could hear sirens. Had people gotten hurt during the earthquake?

  "Psst!" It was louder this time.

  "Whoa! What the‒?"

  "Now you hear it?" I asked.

  But he didn't get a chance to answer because when he guided the light along the opposite wall, we both saw something.

  "Who is that?"

  I didn't answer him at first. How do you tell someone he'd just seen Colonel Sanders's twin in ghost form? A cold gust whipped past us as we stood there staring.

  "Dude doesn't even look real!"

  Guess I should tell him what I knew. "There's a reason for that. Evan, meet Kirke Woods, library ghost."

  "What are you talking—"

  "Psst!" Kirke interrupted Evan and then began pointing at the base of the wall beside him.

  "He won't hurt us. Ms. Finstead said he's totally friendly." I grabbed his hand because I knew he wasn't going anywhere near Kirke without some help.

  "Nuh-uh." He pulled his hand from mine. "You go check out your see-through friend. I'll hold the light and wait here."

  I didn't argue. There was no time for it. I walked toward Kirke and threw him a peace sign for good measure. But
when I got a few feet from him, his image broke apart and became wispy fog. I wasn't sure if I was sad or relieved.

  "There, are you happy now?" I asked. "Come on and help me figure out what he was pointing to."

  "Wouldn't call it happy exactly. By the way, since when did you become a ghost buster?"

  I ignored him and kneeled down while he held the light. "There's something here," I said as I felt along the bottom of the wall. "It's square and not part of the wall. And, it's got a handle. Feels like metal." I grabbed it and pulled but of course it stayed snugly in place. Not sure what I expected since absolutely every metal door I'd tried to open in the last month had been impossible to budge.

  "Here, let me try." He kneeled beside me and yanked with both hands for a while. "Crud, it's totally stuck."

  "Let's try together," I suggested. "You pull the handle, I'll pull you."

  But we tugged and tugged and still no luck. We were trapped and I'm pretty sure you could see my heart pounding through my shirt when I realized we might never get out. Deep breaths, I told myself. In, then out. In, then out. But it wasn't helping. The pinpoints of light started dancing all crazy behind my eyes again.

  "What're we going to do?" Evan asked. "Keep walking?"

  It made no sense. Why had Kirke bothered to show himself if it wasn't for a reason?

  Suddenly there was a scraping sound and we moved back just in time to see the metal door fall open in front of us.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  DESTRUCTION

  "Where are we?" Evan grabbed my hand and I squeezed. I recognized the place. It was the basement of the library, where I'd stored the boxes for Ms. Finstead the other night. Well now it all makes sense. No wonder Kirke showed up where he did in the tunnel to help.