"It is safe," he declared. "A simple flight of stone stairs. Keep your hand on the wall for security."
I climbed through the window into the small room and followed Ennis through the hole and down into the dark. "Go slow," I cautioned.
Ennis was careful to keep the light beam on the stairs so we could both navigate. The worn stone steps were flush to the foundation of the temple. There was no handrail. I didn't want to think of what would happen if we stumbled and fell. I kept one hand on the wall and the other on my camera to keep it from swinging. As old as the temple was, it felt as if we were descending through time. While the stonework of the building above was precise and clean, the foundation below looked crude and haphazard.
"This seems to have been constructed in a much earlier era than the temple," Ennis commented. "These are two distinct structures."
The long flight of stairs took us down to a deep basement, where it had to be thirty degrees cooler than outside. We stood together on the dirt floor, examining the space with the flashlight beam. The ceiling was mostly made of stone, except for the opening we came through that had been sealed with wood. The basement, or whatever it was, was empty. And small. It might have taken up a quarter of the footprint of the temple.
"Nothing to write home about," I declared.
Ennis scanned the walls until he came upon a stone archway.
"Maybe in there," he declared, and walked toward it cautiously.
"Wait. That can't be part of the basement. The temple ends at the wall."
Ennis's eyes lit up. "Then let us see where it leads."
I followed him to the archway and curled my fingers around his belt at the small of his back. I didn't want him getting too far ahead of me. Once through the portal, we entered a narrow passageway that had walls made of the same stone as the foundation. Unless my sense of direction was totally off, we were no longer beneath the temple. He moved forward cautiously, but deliberately. I didn't try to stop him or talk him out of going farther. My curiosity had been teased. We were in it, for better or worse.
The walls were constructed with layer after layer of carefully placed stones that came together in a point overhead, the force of gravity working on each side to keep it from crumbling. Whoever had made this tunnel knew what they were doing. It was crude, but solid.
"Impressive," Ennis noted.
"People must know this exists," I said. "I mean it's not like it was hard to find."
"I agree," Ennis said. "I wonder if there is some reason that it was sealed off."
"Please," I scolded. "I'm nervous enough."
We followed the tunnel for several more twisting yards. I was about to suggest that we turn back when Ennis stopped suddenly.
"What?" I asked.
"There's light," he said, pointing ahead.
Looking beyond him, I saw narrow shafts of light filtering through from above. Daylight was almost gone so the light was faint, but there was no mistaking the fact that this tunnel was constructed to allow in light from outside. Dozens of small beams of light crisscrossed one another, lighting up small sections of the wall. There was just enough illumination that Ennis was able to turn off his much brighter flashlight.
"We should wait a few seconds to let our eyes adjust," Ennis suggested.
As the two of us stood shoulder to shoulder in that ancient, narrow tunnel, the true nature of this structure slowly revealed itself.
I felt Ennis grow tense.
"We are in a place for the dead," he said with a gasp. "It's a catacomb," I declared. "I think we found the back entrance to the Necromanteio."
Though we were hundreds of yards from the official entrance to the ruins of the Oracle of the Dead, I had no doubt that we were standing in a far-flung offshoot of the labyrinth of tunnels that made up the mythological gateway to the afterlife. We walked farther and saw cutouts in the walls that were occupied by the mummified remains of ancient Greeks. Some were wrapped in rotting cloth. Others were in stone shells. Still other cutouts held multiple remains with dozens of skulls piled on one another like bricks in a wall. Some still had the shreds of leathery skin clinging to the bone.
"I don't think this is part of the regular tour," I said.
I had actually photographed the catacombs under Paris, so I wasn't totally repulsed. But that was a well-known spot that always had visitors and charged an admission. This place didn't look as if it had been visited by anybody who was still breathing in a very long time.
Ennis took a few tentative steps forward, examining the gruesome remains.
"How old could these be?" he asked. "No way to tell, at least not by me."
Ennis started moving faster, giving each morbid cubby a quick look before moving on.
I said, "Do you think one of these is your boy Damon?"
"No," he answered with authority. "His final resting place was more of a prison. He would not be with the general population."
"Of course not," I said. "Wouldn't want to put a dead cannibal in with the riffraff."
Ennis scowled at me as if I was being disrespectful of the dead. Maybe he was right.
We reached a junction where the tunnel forked into two different routes.
"We should stop here," I offered. "The last thing we want to do is get lost."
Ennis didn't listen and kept moving, choosing the right fork.
"I am going by your theory," he explained. "This should take us farther away from the town."
"Ennis, we're not going to search this whole place. These tunnels could go on for miles."
"If he is here, we won't have to go far. My research said the temple was erected over his burial spot."
"So how will you know if you've found him? These guys pretty much all look the same to me . . . bony and bald."
"I am not looking for skeletal remains. I am looking for a tomb. Or a vault. Or something like—"
Ennis froze and I nearly ran into him from behind. "Something like that," he declared.
We had hit a dead end. The only illumination came from the last faint rays of light that seeped in from the tunnel behind us. It was too dim to make out detail, but I could see that the tunnel opened into a room and there was something large and solid on the far side.
I instinctively went for my camera.
Ennis lifted his flashlight. When he turned on the beam, I could see that his hand was shaking. He began to raise the light toward the mysterious object, when I grabbed it.
"If that's it, we take some pictures and then we're out of here. If not, we're out of here anyway. Understand?"
Ennis nodded.
"How will you know if it's Damon's tomb?" I asked.
When he spoke, Ennis's voice cracked. He was more nervous than I was. "Supposedly there were six locks. Or seals. The translations I found weren't any more specific than that. Whatever ritual they used to imprison Damon's spirit, it took six locks to do it."
"So if there are six locks, it's Damon?" I asked.
Ennis gave a nervous chuckle. "I don't know. I suppose."
I let go of his hand and let him raise the flashlight toward the object. The beam revealed the unmistakable lines of a sarcophagus. It sat on a pedestal so that the top was a few inches higher than eye level. It was carved out of gray stone and looked to be large enough to hold a coffin, though I didn't think they used coffins back in ancient Greece.
Ennis didn't move. I, on the other hand, wanted to know what we had found so I skirted around him and approached the stone box.
"One thing's for sure," I said. "Whoever's inside there is special. Everybody else in this horror show was pretty much stacked up and left out for anybody to see. Look at the lid. It must weigh a ton. He could have been one of the Oracles of the Dead. Or a priest. Or one of those sorcerers you talked about."
"Or Damon of Epirus," Ennis said, barely above a whisper.
He had gotten his legs moving and joined me at the sarcophagus. I took his flashlight and shone it on the intricate carvings that covered the outsi
de of the large box.
"I have no idea what any of this means," I said. "I don't see six locks either. Or anything that could look like six seals or six of anything."
"What about that?" Ennis asked.
He pointed to the top of the sarcophagus where a stone box sat that was roughly the size of a shoe box. It too was covered with carvings and Greek lettering.
"I suppose those symbols would explain what it was," I offered. "Can you read them?"
Ennis shook his head.
I grabbed my camera. "I'll take some shots and we can bring them to somebody who can translate." I gave Ennis a playful shove and said, "Looks like you made a big discovery after all, Indy."
I switched on my camera and took a few steps back while pulling off the lens cover. I hated using the built-in flash. It was ugly light. But this was about getting a clear image, not about art. The whine of the flash powering to life cut through the quiet of the tomb.
"Take a couple of steps back," I said to Ennis. "I want to get every detail."
Ennis didn't move. He kept staring at the sarcophagus. "It's not going anywhere," I said playfully. "Let me shoot this."
Still, he didn't move.
"Ennis?"
Instead of backing off, Ennis reached out and grabbed the box on top of the tomb.
"Whoa, what are you doing?"
It was like he was in a trance. He pulled it toward him, the stone of the smaller box scraping across the top of the sarcophagus.
"Don't! That probably hasn't been moved for centuries—" What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. It’s incredible to think how life can change so quickly and so completely, with no warning. Ennis dropped his flashlight and pulled the small stone box off the sarcophagus. It was heavy and he had to tilt it as he brought it down. The cover on the box wasn’t secured and it slipped off instantly. I brought my camera up and started shooting. The room was so dark that I only saw brief moments of detail as each flash fired. When the lid came off, it crashed to the floor and shattered. For one brief instant I saw what was inside. It looked to be six golden balls, each about the size of a plum. Six balls. They could have had etchings on them but it all happened too quickly to tell for sure.
As Ennis struggled to right the box, one of the balls fell out.
The light from my strobe kicked a glint off the golden ball as it fell to the ground. I lowered my camera and reached out to catch it. Like a diving shortstop, I lunged and grabbed the small ball an inch from the ground. A moment later, a second ball fell from the box. I wasn't as quick with that one. I reached out with my free hand but I was a second too late. The ball hit the rocky floor and shattered. Tiny golden shards flew everywhere, along with what looked like red liquid. It splattered all over the rocky floor, and my hands. It felt sticky. Like syrup. Or . . .
"Blood," I said with a gasp.
The ground shook. I stumbled and fell to one knee. "My god, it's an earthquake," I exclaimed.
"Back! Now!" Ennis yelled.
Too late. The rumbling came from everywhere and nowhere. It sounded as if we were being descended on by a dozen freight trains. I tried to stand but fell down again. Oddly, light filled the room.
"The ceiling!" Ennis shouted.
The force of the earthquake was collapsing the tunnel. Heavy stones fell all around us. Ennis grabbed my hand to pull me to my feet, but a stone the size of a bowling ball hit him in the arm and knocked him to his knees.
The tomb was shaking so hard it was impossible for me to stand. The sarcophagus shuddered and fell off the pedestal, directly over Ennis. If that thing hit him, he'd be crushed. I scrambled on my hands and knees and launched forward, knocking him out of the way. The sarcophagus hit the floor and the heavy lid flipped off. Even with the world crashing down around us, I wanted to see what was inside. I wanted to see Damon of Epirus.
But when the box fell on its side, no mummy fell out. Instead, what came tumbling out was some sort of tool. Or weapon. It was solid black and looked to be about the size of a long sword. It came to a sharp point, but beneath the tip were two more cutting edges. One was a picklike device like you would use to dig through rock, and the other side was a sharp chopping cleaver. I only caught a brief glimpse of it, but it was all I needed to form an opinion.
It looked like the tool of a devil.
The weapon clattered to the ground amid the falling stones.
"Look!" Ennis exclaimed.
The pedestal that held the stone box had disappeared down into a dark hole. The earthquake had torn open the ground. Or had the hole always been there and the pedestal had been protecting it? Through the horrible rumbling I heard another sound. Screams. Or were they tortured howls? Whatever they were, they were coming from the hole. I was losing my mind. I knew we had to get out of there, but I still wanted proof of what we had seen, and that proof was in my camera. I looked around to see it lying between the lid of the sarcophagus and the howling hole.
A quick glance up showed that the cave-in had actually given us our escape route. The pile of rock and rubble beneath it could be climbed to what little daylight was left.
"Go that way!" I shouted to Ennis. "Climb!"
He saw the pile, nodded, and scrambled for it. The earthquake was still rumbling. It felt like the longest earthquake in history, though it all could have happened in a few seconds. Ennis crossed in front of me, headed for the caved-in roof. I was ready to follow but was afraid if both of us climbed the pile of dirt it would collapse and we'd be stuck. I knew it wouldn't take long for him to climb out, just enough time for me to grab my camera.
I crawled for the camera and reached for the strap. I remember thinking that Ennis had been absolutely right. I had taken some shots that had never been seen before. In that moment I actually wondered what the future would bring to two people who had gone in search of adventure . . . and found it.
I reached for the camera, grabbed the strap, and turned back to the pile of rubble—when the floor collapsed. I was being pulled into the hole, slipping down along with an avalanche of rocks and dirt. I let go of the camera but not the golden ball that I had saved from breaking. I can't say why I thought it was important, but I protected that thing like it was a precious, fragile egg.
"Ennis!" I screamed.
Ennis was halfway up the debris pile. He turned back, saw what was happening, and leaped back for the floor. He had taken care of me more times than I could remember. I always felt safe with him around, even when we were off on some ridiculous adventure. This was no different. I knew that Ennis would save me.
"I have you!" Ennis screamed as he reached out for me. I couldn't tell if I was falling into the hole, or being pulled.
I reached for Ennis's hand . . . and grabbed air.
The last sight I remember was the surprised look on Ennis's face when he realized that he was too late. For the first time ever, he wasn't able to take care of me. The next thing I knew, I was falling.
And then everything went black.
Terri "Ree" Seaver's Tale
(Continued)
There was no sensation.
I couldn't tell if I was falling or floating or dying. Time had no meaning. My body had no meaning. I wasn't in pain and surprisingly I wasn't in a panic. I remembered the catacombs and the earthquake and even the image of Ennis desperately reaching out for me, but it all seemed as if it had happened to somebody else.
The first input I sensed was warmth. My face felt warm, and with it, I sensed light. It was then that I realized that my eyes were closed. Was it as simple as that? Had my eyes been closed so tightly I couldn't see anything?
I cautiously opened them and had to squint against the bright light that was shining directly on me. The abrupt change was like a rude slap. I wondered if this was "the light" that so many people reported seeing at the moment of death, but there was nothing ethereal or otherworldly about it. I didn't hear harps or a heavenly chorus of angels. It just felt like a bright light was shining in my eyes and I wanted it t
o stop.
I realized that I was sitting on a hard floor. That answered one question: I wasn't a spirit who was floating toward the light on the way to heaven. Or wherever spirits go. I turned away and blinked so my eyes could adjust.
"Ennis?" I called out tentatively.
I had fallen into a black hole beneath the stone sarcophagus. Was there another room directly beneath the tomb? Is that where I was? I couldn't remember landing, but I did remember hearing ghostly howls coming from the opening. They had stopped, I was glad to note. Wherever I was, it was quiet. I moved to rub my eyes and realized I was still clutching the golden orb that had fallen from the stone box on top of the sarcophagus. I examined it, rolling it over in my hands. It was beautiful, with intricate carvings. And it was fragile. That much was proved by the bloodstains on my hands from the other ball that had broken.
I rubbed my eyes and turned away from the bright light. What I saw was impossible, but absolutely real. I expected to find myself in the rubble left after the violent earthquake. Instead I found myself sitting on the floor of Grand Central Terminal in New York City. The annoying bright light was streaming in through the wall of glass windows on the west side.
I can't say that everything that had happened since we entered that temple made sense but at least I could logically follow the series of events—until then. I jumped to my feet and spun around, expecting it all to disappear like some fever-fueled hallucination. As impossible as it was for me to be there, what made it that much more bizarre was the fact that the giant station was empty. Completely empty. Grand Central never closed. Even at three in the morning there was somebody around, but it wasn't three in the morning. Bright sun didn't shine in the middle of the night.
There was no train information on the big board. No PA announcements booming through the cavernous space. And no people.
"Ennis!" I called again, with more desperation.
The only response was the echo of my own voice. I may not have panicked when I was floating in black, but that was already ancient history. Panic was now an option. There was no way I could be in Grand Central Terminal, wearing the same clothes I'd been wearing in Greece, holding the same ball I saved in that tomb. All I could think to do was get out of there and get home. Stony Brook was only an hour from the city. I was ready to run outside, grab a cab, and drive to somewhere safe and sane. I started running toward the stairs that would take me up and out of the station, when I heard the first sound that made me realize I wasn't alone after all. It was a mechanical sound that I couldn't place. It wasn't a train, that much I was sure of. I stopped short and looked back to the far side of the station to see a stream of people on bicycles pedaling toward me. They came from everywhere, like water spewing from a sieve. They came from the two parallel entrances on the far side, from under the big clock that led out to Forty-second Street, from the gates that led to the train tracks. I might have welcomed the company, if not for the fact that each and every one of them wore clown masks.
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