by L. L. Samson
Two A.M. He was sure he had plenty of time to find Joe (after the man had made all the mischief he could, of course) and get him back to Book World before the acids ate him.
Once they were back in McDougal’s Cave, Joe would lead him to the treasure. Cato had given the matter some thought. Even if he was, ultimately, stealing from Tom and Huck, he realized he simply didn’t care about that. Why should they be set for life when everyone else had to work hard?
Well?
Madrigal filled them in on where each tunnel led. “That goes to the Randolphs’.” A few minutes later. “That one goes to the house of the president of Kingscross University.”
“Really?” asked Father Lou. “Why?”
“I don’t know. It’s a mystery why these tunnels even exist, Lou. If anybody could have found a clue, it would have been me.”
Linus could believe that. The woman was more thorough than a tax accountant defending his client against the Internal Revenue Service. (Ask your parents to explain; we’ve got more important matters to worry about right now, though many would beg to differ.)
“Kingscross was founded four hundred years ago, wasn’t it?” asked Walter. Four hundred years is no time for a Brit, but Walter knew it was positively ancient for an American.
“Yes, it was.”
“What about smugglers?” Father Lou suggested.
“I’ve considered that, of course. But why the need for so many tunnels to so many houses?” Madrigal asked. “It seems to me that smugglers wouldn’t need to go to such lengths.”
True, thought Linus, peering ahead. According to his memory, they should be coming to the cave soon.
“What about a secret society, Maddie?” asked Father Lou. “Some kind of group that met for shady purposes unbeknownst to anybody else?”
She stopped again, shining her flashlight at the group. “Some kind of Mason-like group, only not the Masons?”
“I don’t know. It just seems like people needed to leave their houses in secrecy.”
“I think it’s a brilliant idea,” said Walter, hoping Madrigal would keep moving along. Every second Ophelia was missing delivered apprehension to his gut more faithfully than television anchors delivered bad news at six P.M. If they didn’t find Ophelia and Tom soon, he’d start climbing the walls like Spider-Man.
“Sounds a bit fanciful for my taste.” Madrigal dismissed the idea.
Linus whispered over his shoulder to Father Lou, “I like it.”
“Thanks,” he whispered back. “I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
(Obviously, Linus didn’t actually cast a vote just then. Father Lou just used the saying to express his gratitude that Linus deemed his explanation worthy of consideration.)
Three minutes later the river cave spread out in front of them.
Madrigal blew a puff of frustration from compressed lips. “I thought surely they’d end up here. It seemed a natural conclusion.”
I don’t know, thought Linus, seems a bit fanciful for my taste.
Walter felt like punching the cave wall. He kept his mouth shut. Better to say nothing than to spew the molten anger collecting in his chest.
Father Lou pointed to the empty set of shelves and the cot. “You boys think this is where the burglar is bringing the stolen items?”
“Yep,” said Linus.
“He could get them out of the tunnels by using the river under the cover of night,” surmised Walter.
Madrigal laughed. “Oh, that’s funny!”
Walter knew it was wrong to hate someone, but right then he was coming as close to feeling hatred as he ever had before. Sometimes keen annoyance feels that way. He bit the inside of his lip.
“This is my territory,” Madrigal explained. “I come down here every so often just to get away. Of course, now that you all know …”
“Your secret is safe with me, Maddie,” Father Lou promised.
Walter sprung at the chance. She deserved it. “And if you forget about the fact that Linus, and Ophelia, and I came down here before, then it’ll be safe with us, too.”
“Lou, are these boys trying to strike a deal with me?”
Clearly no student had ever done the like. Walter was pleased.
“A good one,” said Father Lou. “I’d take it if I were you.”
“All right. No pots and pans.”
Walter felt maybe .015 percent better. “Where to next, ma’am?”
“Back where we came from.”
2:10 A.M.
How long is this going to take? Linus wondered. Ophelia, I hope you’re all right. Please be all right.
seventeen
Sometimes the Road Less Traveled Is Less Traveled for a Reason
or Lead, Follow, or Get out of the Way
Madrigal stopped. “Wait just a second.” The males groaned.
She zipped to the edge of the cave and aimed her lamp at the river.
“What’s wrong?” Father Lou gripped the back of his neck.
If a priest is annoyed, thought Walter, then I must be all right.
“The Bard is rising. After the last flood, I’m hoping the rain stops soon. We’re at the highest point of the system here.” She crossed the cave, returning to the group. “If the river rises even an inch above the floor here, the tunnels farther down will be almost completely under water.” Her last few words trembled. “We’d better hurry.”
At last! Walter shook his legs. “Let’s go on, then.”
Now Linus wasn’t the type of person who prayed for every little thing. He figured he was given a good brain and a healthy body for a reason. But sometimes situations beyond the smartest brains or the strongest bodies made an appearance, and this was one of them.
He prayed the rain would stop.
If he had looked behind him, he would have seen Father Lou’s lips moving soundlessly.
“We’re lost, ain’t we?” Joe grabbed Tom’s arm as they came to yet another dead end, another stone wall, another basement. He jerked Tom around to face him.
“No! No, we ain’t! The cave has got to be down one of these tunnels. Honest, Injun Joe!”
“Is he lyin’?” Joe shoved Tom away from him.
Ophelia caught Tom around the waist. “Truth is, we don’t know where all of this leads. But we found that necklace, didn’t we? Maybe others have stashed their stolen goods in here.”
“We got to get back to them caves,” said Joe. “I’ll lead from now on. Well, sort of. You still have to lead us, but go where I say. I’m not taking any chances you’ll run off behind me.”
“But if you don’t need us …” said Tom.
“You be quiet now!”
Joe pushed them back down the path toward the river tunnel. “Let’s keep goin’.”
They took a right again. Farther away from the school. Father away from the bookshop.
Ophelia noticed the path descending slightly. She remembered the river and the rain.
They walked for the next twenty minutes in silence. Why was Joe continuing? Surely he realized there was no finding that treasure by now.
Tom!
She thought about the murder of Doc Robinson, Joe’s sense of revenge. Was Joe planning the same fate for Tom?
The tunnel curved a little to the left. A house tunnel snaked off to the right. The river tunnel had finally come to an end. Joe told them to go right, “Just to see,” and twenty paces later they stood before another wooden door. Actually, there were two doors. The door in front was constructed of heavy iron bars such as one sees in neighborhoods where shopkeepers are more wary.
Ophelia reached out, grabbed a bar, and shook the door. “Locked tight.”
“I reckon,” said Tom. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to go on back. Maybe McDougal’s Cave is the other way.”
Joe emitted a sound of disgust.
They walked back to the river tunnel’s end. Ophelia shone her light on the end wall and the ceiling. Just like the tunnel by Birdwistell’s, heavy beams held up the ceiling, th
e walls were constructed of rough stones.
“No,” said Joe from behind, his voice low, dangerous. “We won’t all be goin’ back.” He lunged at Tom as if this was what he’d been planning all along.
Soon after the makeshift search crew had exited the cave, Madrigal Pierce stopped once more. She shone her searchlight down a side tunnel. Linus noticed it was somewhat wider than the others.
“Let’s try this one. It ends at the icehouse on the land belonging to the founder of the University. Nobody knows it’s there, of course. It’s how I usually get in.”
Joe could have taken them anywhere, reasoned Linus. While we’re up this way, we should check it out. He figured Walter, who looked calm enough, agreed.
Tom had been in fights before. He wasn’t about to let Joe get the best of him, no sir. Some people possess a heightened sense of the importance of not only being alive, but also living that life to the fullest. Tom fell nicely into that category.
He stepped aside at the last moment, just as Ophelia tackled Joe from the side. The knife hit the floor and spun in Tom’s direction. He grabbed it.
Ophelia yelled, “Run, Tom!” as she and Joe crashed together on the ground, her flashlight falling from her hand.
A rumbling sound startled them all. And before anyone realized what was going on, the tunnel ceiling began caving in. The roar attacked Ophelia’s ears, and she turned her head, watching in horror as Tom, now twenty feet away, was separated from her by split timbers, rocks, dirt, and heavy, dried up roots.
Joe rolled her over roughly and leaned over her, one hand coming to rest on Ophelia’s throat. The other hand joined the first, and they circled her narrow neck.
Ophelia couldn’t scream.
Think! Think!
Ophelia wasn’t a stranger to the odd fight when self-defense from a bully was necessary. She spread out her arm, reaching for anything. A crowbar would have been nice, but where’s a crowbar when you need one?
Her fingers closed around a rock the size of a baseball, and four times as hard.
Joe started to squeeze. Ophelia felt her throat begin to flatten, and as she gagged and coughed, she swung her hand with as much force as she could muster, bashing the rock into the side of Joe’s head.
A dull thud sounded. The weight of his body fell on top of Ophelia.
She coughed some more, trying to oust the squeezing sensation in her neck. She gathered her strength for several seconds (Joe was quite solid), arched her body with all her might, and rolled him off.
“Tom!” she cried, but she heard no response. Did the cave-in bury him? Oh no. Please, no!
“Ophelia!” Tom yelled, but he heard nothing in reply. He’d barely missed the rain of rock. Had Ophelia not been as lucky? Tom, now without a flashlight, hurried back toward the bookshop tunnel as quickly as he could in a darkness to which he hadn’t yet become accustomed. How would he know the right tunnel? And why didn’t he think to count them?
His anger at his own stupidity (his words, according to Linus, not mine) fueled him as he stumbled through the black corridor.
Ophelia scrambled to her feet.
Did I kill him?
She hoped not. Yet on the other hand, this was a dangerous person. He’d tried to kill her friend Tom! He’d just tried to kill her!
Ophelia realized then how much she had come to love that rascal from St. Petersburg. She’d always wanted a little brother, no offense to Linus, and Tom would have been a great one. A little lively, but so much the better.
She knelt down next to Joe and shone her flashlight on his face, then down his neck, settling the beam on his chest. It rose and fell with his shallow breaths.
She sat back on her heels, relief flooding through her. She didn’t want to kill anybody. The knife was gone now, and hopefully once consciousness returned to him, a headache would follow—just for the fun of it.
In her pocket, her fingers found the measuring tape. Not taking any chances, she rolled Joe onto his stomach and reached for his wrist. Ophelia had gone through a macramé phase, and she knew a host of knots. Soon she’d bound his wrists so tightly together that even the Great Houdini (an illusionist and escapist during the turn of the century) would have had trouble working himself free.
Might as well start removing the debris, she thought. With the way she felt, alone and still afraid, that pile might as well have been Mount Everest.
Nevertheless, she reached for the first stone because that’s what courageous people do.
You see, we tend to think of bravery as a single, heroic act of daring under trying circumstances, and certainly it can be just that. But sometimes courage is exhibited stone by stone and step by step until somehow the impossible is made probable, and the probable is made possible.
Tom couldn’t have known it was almost 4:30 A.M. by the time he saw Madrigal’s light at what seemed to be the end of the tunnel. But Walter certainly did. Linus had finally asked him to stop asking for the time. And when it was clear that Walter couldn’t help himself, Linus peeled off his wristwatch and handed it to him. He knew Walter would announce the time when he deemed it necessary. And if the past two hours were any indication, it would be at fifteen-minute intervals.
The side trip to the icehouse proved as futile as the trek to the cave. The crew had almost made it back to the place of that poor first choice. Clearly, Ophelia, Tom, and Joe must have gone right at the river tunnel, not left.
One wrong turn, Linus thought with consternation. Hang on, Ophelia!
A sick feeling still coated his stomach, but so far the stabbing sensation that something terrible had happened to his twin remained at bay. Well, for a few minutes he felt extra sick, but then it passed. Surely, if Ophelia was gravely injured or worse (he pushed that possibility aside with all the inner strength he possessed), he would feel it, wouldn’t he?
As they hurried down the river tunnel, he allowed himself to believe in the close connection he shared with his twin. They’d experienced it many times before. It wouldn’t fail them now. He simply wouldn’t allow it.
“Hey!” a small voice echoed from farther down the path.
“Who’s there?” called Madrigal.
“It’s Tom!” said Walter. “Are you all right?” he called back.
Tom caught up with the group. Alone. Linus felt his heart tumble inside his chest like a shoe in a dryer. “Where’s Ophelia?” he asked.
Tom told the tale as succinctly (to the point, without extra words) as possible. When he got to the part about the cave-in, he panicked. He couldn’t talk; his breath came in gasps.
Father Lou whacked his back. Tom sucked the dark air into his lungs and began to cough, then cry.
“Do you know if they’re alive?” asked Madrigal, after she’d given him some water and he’d calmed down enough to finish telling the story.
“No, ma’am. There was a good twenty feet or so between us when the ceiling crashed down.”
So she’s either under the rubble or trapped behind it with Joe. Linus allowed his fear to propel him forward. He grabbed Madrigal’s flashlight and nobody tried to stop him.
I’d feel it if she were dead, he told himself over and over again. The mantra (repeated words) became perfectly timed with his footsteps, driving him forward into the narrow gloom.
eighteen
In Cahoots with the Enemy
or Another Secret Room—What a Surprise!
Linus hurried by the tunnel leading to the school. According to Walter it was now 4:45 A.M.
“Wait!” called Madrigal. “I’m going up to the surface. We need to get a rescue crew down here.”
Linus, Walter, and Father Lou wondered how they were going to explain Joe, and even Tom, to the crew. And would the mysteries of the circle come to light? But just as quickly, thinking of Ophelia, they realized they didn’t care.
“Good idea, Maddie,” said Father Lou.
“And you’re sure they’re at the end of this very tunnel, Tom?” she asked.
“I
reckon I’m positive, ma’am.”
“All right. I’ll see you all soon.”
Madrigal disappeared down the narrow tunnel.
Linus continued forward, feeling calmer now, trusting that his sister was fine. The last Tom knew, Ophelia was alive. And she still was. She had to be.
Ophelia heard Joe stir before he even opened his eyes. She’d propped her flashlight on several large stones, trying her best to illuminate the rubble. She grabbed it now and focused it right on his face.
His lids opened, then lowered in a squint. “Get that lantern offa me, girl.”
During the past two hours of digging, primal fury had soaked into Ophelia’s cells. To say she was quite angry would be like saying Neil Armstrong was quite the little traveler. (Neil Armstrong, in case your history teachers don’t deserve their salaries, was the first man to walk on the moon.)
“No!” she snapped. “You tried to kill me! I cannot believe you, Joe! First you try to stab Tom, then you try to strangle me. We’re children! Is this the answer to all of your problems? Just kill people and everything will be fine? You know, I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, but now? You deserve to starve to death behind those iron gates!”
Joe, realizing that his hands were tied behind his back, struggled to get up. He pulled at the bonds.
“Don’t bother,” said Ophelia. “I’m excellent at tying knots.”
He settled down. “What do you mean ‘starve to death’?”
“You found those gates, didn’t you?”
“I had just seen them when that fancy man brought me here, wherever here is.”
“Nobody goes back to find you, Joe.” She pulled her paperback book from her pocket. “It says it all here. They found you, your face close to the doors as if you were looking through that crack at the world you would never inhabit again. You tried to work your knife around the foundation beam, but of course it didn’t work. There were bat bones, and you collected water, a few precious drops a day, from a stalactite. But it wasn’t enough. I imagine it was horrifying. I imagine you had a lot of time to think about your life.”
