by Mark Frost
“No, that doesn’t sound crazy at all. Oh, look what I found,” said Nick, pointing into an empty locker. “A cuckoo clock: Cuckoo-cuckoo-cuckoo.”
“Behave yourself,” said Ajay.
“He called what I saw a lamia,” said Will. “I don’t expect you to believe me.”
“A lamia?” asked Ajay, who froze in place. “Are you certain of that?”
“Yes.”
“Sounds bogus,” said Nick. “What’s a lamia?”
“A lamia is an ancient mythological demon,” said Ajay, looking a little green. “Half-female, half-serpent. A monster that creeps silently through the night and … devours children. Allegedly.”
“That sounds about right,” said Will.
“Refreshing,” said Nick.
“And the gentleman who told you this,” said Ajay. “Who might he be?”
“The same one who gave me these glasses,” said Will, reluctant to say more.
Ajay leaned against the lockers, and a concealed panel on the wall above the lockers slid open.
“What did you just do?” asked Will, jumping up onto the bench to take a look.
“I must have activated some kind of pressure plate,” said Ajay, pushing the same spot on the side of the locker again.
The panel closed. Ajay pressed it again: It opened.
Nick jumped up beside Will. “Secret compartment. Awesome.”
Will reached into the recessed space. “There’s something back here. I can’t reach it; it’s shoved way inside.”
Ajay jumped up beside them. “Give me a lift up. I can get to it.”
They grabbed Ajay and boosted him above the lockers. He wriggled inside to his waist and with both hands dragged a midsized black steamer trunk out of the compartment. They lowered him and set the trunk on the bench.
“Not very heavy,” said Ajay.
“It’s locked,” said Will.
“I’m on it,” said Nick. “This requires years of intense training, natural talent, and incredible finesse.…”
Nick picked up a dumbbell and smashed it repeatedly and violently into the lock, which shattered into pieces.
“Works for me,” said Will as he flipped up the lid.
Inside was a strange assortment of old hats. Will lifted them out one at a time. A pirate hat adorned with a big flouncy feather, cavalier style. A floppy red beret. A conical dunce’s cap, inscribed with strange glyphs. A bishop’s miter. A bronze crown, set with large fake gems. A garland made of olive branches. Two tricornered American Revolution–era hats. An iron knight’s coif, made of real chain mail. A cowboy hat. A long feathered Indian headdress. And finally what looked like a steel welder’s mask, inset with a small thick window for the eyes. All substantial pieces, blocked and solidly constructed, none of them shoddy or cheap.
“Amazeballs,” said Nick, astonished. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
“No,” said Will.
“The Village People are getting back together,” said Nick.
“Apparently at a Renaissance fair,” said Ajay.
“Hold on, there’s more,” said Will.
Will lifted the false shelf on which the hats had been resting, revealing an equally eclectic collection of heavy molded plastic masks, with thick elastic bands in the back. The kind you might have found on the shelves of an old-fashioned toy store. The masks were hand painted, designed and crafted with an attention to detail seldom seen anymore. A diverse group of faces, stark and more than a little unsettling: a clown, a devil, a fox, a horse, a tusked wild boar, a pigtailed girl, a grinning jack-o’-lantern, a snarling grizzled man wearing an eye patch, a ghost, a menacing wolf, and two human faces. Will lifted one of them: a heavy-jowled, middle-aged man with pursed lips, with long silver strands of hair hanging on either side of his balding head.
“Who does that look like to you?” asked Will.
“Dude on the hundred-dollar Benjamin,” said Nick.
“Benjamin Franklin,” said Ajay.
“Whoa. That’s a coincidence,” said Nick.
Will lifted the last mask. “And this one?”
“George Washington?” asked Ajay.
“The father of our country?” said Nick, then with mock outrage, “Okay, now they’ve gone too far.”
“The people I saw down here were wearing these,” said Will, realizing. “That’s why their faces looked so weird. Twelve hats. Twelve masks.”
“So what does it mean?” asked Ajay.
“I don’t know yet,” said Will.
Will searched the trunk again and found a yellowing envelope in a small net fastened to the side. He removed an equally aged piece of paper and unfolded it. An embossed insignia topped the sheet, a round cluster of tightly arranged flower blossoms, topped by a square formed by four crossed tools or weapons. In their center was a grinning death’s head. A headline below the insignia read THE PEERS. Below that, in graceful, exquisite calligraphy, was a list of names that filled the rest of the page.
Orlando
Renaldo the Fox
Namo the Duke
Salomon the King
Turpin the Archbishop
Astolpho of the West
Ogier the Dane
Malagigi the Enchanter
Padraig de Mort
Florismart the Friend
Ganelon the Crafter
Guerin de Montglave
“The Old Gentleman”
Will, Nick, and Ajay looked at each other.
“The Peers,” said Will. “You recognize any of these names?”
“No,” said Nick. “But then I don’t own a phone book from the fourteenth century.”
“Any guesses?” asked Will.
“The French national soccer team?” said Ajay.
“The Twelve Musketeers?” said Nick.
“Okay, okay,” said Will.
“Twelve hats, twelve masks,” said Ajay, “but thirteen names on the list.”
“What’s up with that?” asked Nick.
“I’d venture a guess that a hat and mask correspond to each name,” said Ajay. “Except for the last, which is in quotes and is really a description, not a name.”
“ ‘The Old Gentleman,’ ” said Will.
“So let’s take all this stuff with us and brainiac it later?” asked Nick, yawning again, glancing at his watch. “I really need to crash.”
“No,” said Will. “We should put it all back exactly as we found it. Spread everything out first—I want to take pictures.”
“I’m quite certain I can remember them, Will,” said Ajay pointedly.
“I know. We may need to show them to someone else.”
Nick and Ajay laid the masks and hats on the floor. Will pulled out his cell phone and activated the camera. “Can we get more light in here?” he asked.
Nick tried more switches by the door. None turned on fixtures in the locker room, but one activated lights in the corridor outside. He stepped out to look at them. Will took shots of the hats and masks, then leaned in to snap close-ups of the paper with the insignia and the list of names.
“So the people you saw were wearing both hats and masks?” asked Ajay.
“Which could explain why it took them so long to come after me,” said Will. “They had to put all this away first.”
Nick slowly backed into the locker room, looking pale. “Uh, hate to harsh your mellow. We need another way out of here.”
“Why?” asked Will as he took the last photo.
“Bad guy. Far end of the hall. With a big-ass knife …”
“What?!”
“… and a medium-sized hatchet,” said Nick.
“Are you high?” asked Ajay.
Will and Ajay stuck their heads out into the hallway. A long row of single bare lightbulbs had come on, suspended from the ceiling down the full length of the corridor, creating small sharp pools of light that didn’t quite blend. In a last splash of light at the far end, just before the distant corner, stood a lone figure.
“Thank God I already peed,” said Ajay.
Will yanked them both back into the room and shut the door. “Look for another way out,” he said.
Nick and Ajay frantically searched the room and adjoining bathroom. Will turned the lock on the inside knob and rattled it to make sure it was secure.
#15: BE QUICK, BUT DON’T HURRY.
“Anything in the bathroom?” shouted Will.
“Not unless we flush ourselves,” said Ajay.
“You might fit,” said Nick. “Then you could go for help.”
Will studied the lockers. They were welded in groups of three, stacked against the wall. He dropped to his knees and saw that the section in the middle was missing the small strip of wood that attached to the floor.
“Give me a hand here,” said Will. “Now!”
The others ran to him as a teeth-gnashing howl sounded outside. Will threw open the lockers in the middle group—all empty—then grabbed the shelves and pulled. The lockers shifted toward him slightly.
“This section isn’t fixed to the wall,” he said. “Something’s back here.”
“See if you can find a button or a switch of some kind,” said Ajay.
They each searched a locker. Nick found ventilation holes punched in the back of the middle one and put his eye to it. “I don’t see a wall,” he said. “It’s open back there.”
The doorknob rattled, then fierce pounding on the door began.
“There must be another concealed button. Look for unusual shapes or indentations,” said Ajay, pressing every inch of metal. “Could be anything, a pressure or kick plate of some kind … oh God, oh God …”
“Stay calm, Ajay,” said Will. “He may just be trying to scare us.”
There was a loud crash, metal on metal, as the figure assaulted the door.
“It’s working!” shouted Ajay.
“Pull the whole freakin’ thing off the wall,” said Nick.
“Count of three,” said Will. “One, two, three!”
They each grabbed hold of a locker and pulled as hard as they could. The lockers moved an inch and seemed ready to yield more but hung up on something.
“There’s a bolt and spring latch here at the top,” said Ajay, feeling around the inside of the middle locker. “Definitely a locking device. There’s got to be a hidden mechanism that’ll release it.”
Another smashing blow to the door, then three in succession with increasing speed and power. The inside of the plate around the knob started to warp.
“He’s chopping down the freaking door,” said Nick.
Ajay climbed completely into the locker, grabbed hold of the metal hooks in its ceiling, and twisted them. “Okay, I think I’ve got it,” said Ajay.
“Any time,” said Will as another blow landed, pushing the knob inward.
Ajay jammed one foot against a bulge in the metal on the left side, lifted his right foot, and pressed it against a similar bulge on the right. Then he grabbed and turned the hooks as hard as he could. They heard a snick as a catch gave way.
“Now pull!” shouted Ajay.
Will and Nick grabbed the lockers and yanked. This time they gave and the section fell toward them, with Ajay still inside. Will and Nick jumped out of the way as it crashed to the floor. Directly behind where the lockers had stood, a rough hole in the cinder-block wall led to a dark narrow passage.
“Little help here,” said Ajay, muffled, from inside the locker.
Another furious blow landed on the door; Will glanced back and saw the hatchet punch through next to the knob. A second blow doubled the size of the gash.
“This dude’s serious,” said Nick.
“Nick!” said Will. He grabbed the bottom of the lockers, and Nick took the other side. Lifting with all their strength, they leveraged the lockers to a standing position. Ajay came into view, upside down in the middle one, squashed in a pile.
“That was most unpleasant,” Ajay croaked.
As Ajay tumbled out, Will and Nick shoved the section of lockers toward the door. A hand in a black metallic glove ripped through the hole by the lock plate and felt around for the lock. Ajay jumped in to add his weight as they slammed the lockers against the door. They heard a snarl of pain from outside.
“You like that?” shouted Nick, eyes lit up, hopping back and forth. “Come get some, fool, bring it!”
“Nick, are you insane?” asked Will. “Don’t yell at the guy with the hatchet.”
“Look on the bright side,” said Nick. “At least it’s not a lamia.”
Will wedged a bench between the barricading lockers and the nearest wall, anchoring it in place. The roommates glanced at each other, breathless, then turned to the narrow opening in the wall.
“Who wants to go first?” asked Will, and switched on his flashlight.
DÉJÀ VU
Ajay darted through the hole in the wall, with Nick and Will close behind. Through the first few turns, the walls of the passage were reinforced by concrete, which gave way to a structure of broad timbers. Fifty feet later, they were in a tunnel of solid rock that looked as if it had been dug with chisels.
“Did he get through? Is he coming after us?” asked Nick.
“Not yet,” said Will, glancing back. “Don’t hear anything.”
“Are either of you claustrophobic?” asked Ajay, shining his light ahead.
“I’m not,” said Nick.
“Never have been.”
“Let’s hope you’re right,” said Ajay. “This would be a bad place to find out otherwise.”
The tunnel closed in quickly around them from that point forward, until it was wide enough for one person and only Ajay could move freely without crouching down.
“Who was he? Did you get a good look at him?” asked Will.
“He’s wearing a big helmet,” said Nick. “And a black cape and a belt with an iron buckle and awesome chain mail armor and an iron mask.”
“He’s got to be one of the Peers,” said Will. “But how did he know we were down here?”
“I can feel air moving around us,” said Ajay. “I think that’s good.”
“Where the deuce are we?” asked Nick.
“I’ll be able to tell you when we get back to the pod,” said Ajay, pressing the GPS button on his pager again.
“What good will it do us then?” asked Nick.
“We’re in a secret passage,” said Will. “Emphasis on secret. Keep going.”
“It seems surprisingly clean,” said Ajay, feeling the walls. “Without the overwhelming number of insects and vermin you might expect.”
“That may mean it’s used frequently,” said Will. “By whoever the Peers are.”
“Agreed,” said Ajay.
“I don’t think so,” said Nick.
“Oh? Why’s that?” asked Ajay.
“Dude, it’s not wide enough for them to get through here with those hats on.”
“I’m sorry, my bad,” said Ajay. “I forgot you were an idiot.”
“Whoa, I just had a mind-blowing flash,” said Nick. “You know the statue of the Paladin in front of the field house? That’s who Ax Dude looked like.”
“Honestly, Nick? I don’t find that at all helpful,” said Ajay, creeping ahead.
“I’m serious. He’s wearing armor and a helmet like the statue, and he had the cape thingy and he’s carrying a sword and hatchet like the statue, too—”
“You’re alleging that a statue made of metal came to life and chased us like a homicidal maniac,” said Ajay, coming to a stop.
“I didn’t say the dude was made of metal—”
“He’s saying,” said Will, “it was somebody dressed up to look like the s
tatue.”
“Thank you,” said Nick.
“At least now you’ve moved from the ridiculous to the merely implausible,” said Ajay, going forward again. “Why would any person do such a thing?”
“Maybe the Peers are pissed off we found their playhouse,” said Nick. “And the treasure chest with their Happy Meals hat collection.”
“They wanted to scare the living hell out of us,” said Will.
“Because …?” asked Ajay.
“Because,” said Will, annoyed at his tone, “I saw them earlier today with the Weasel Hole and now we know what they call themselves. Okay?”
“Forgive me,” said Ajay, glancing back at him. “I get grumpy when being chased by an ax murderer.”
“It was a hatchet,” said Nick.
“Otherwise known as a hand ax,” said Ajay.
“But, dude, I gotta give you props,” said Nick. “You’re amazingly chill about it.”
“I seem calm from years of meditation,” said Ajay. “But I assure you it’s taking all my self-control to restrain an irresistible impulse to shout for my mommy.”
Will pointed his flashlight into the darkness behind them, light glinting off the rocks. “Can you see anything up ahead?” he asked.
“The walls are getting wider,” said Ajay. “And we’re moving slightly downward. Can you feel the change in the grade?”
“Yes,” said Will. “Keep going.”
The tunnel gradually widened as they trudged on, until the walls fell out of sight. They stopped and shined their lights into the heavy gloom. The ceiling lofted high above them and the walls were shored up by rows of ancient timbers.
“Damn, who built all this?” asked Nick, looking around in wonder.
“I don’t know,” said Will. “But it’s been here a long time.”
“This would have taken years, if not decades,” said Ajay, examining the timbers. “Controlled blasting, all this shoring up, it’s a massive operation.”
The air felt humid, fresh, and much warmer than expected. Somewhere they heard water trickling. A surprising heat enveloped them, emanating from the walls. About an inch of water splashed underfoot as they moved along.
