For a moment, I stand at the entrance of the round tunnel. Whoever carved these tunnels out did a lot of work. And I know they’re all around the town.
I exhale, then clear my throat.
“Midnight?” I call out.
It’s just a few minutes after twelve. I’m doing exactly what I was supposed to do.
A gasp of cool air seems to come from the mouth of the tunnel. As if it’s daring me to enter. I wait for a few minutes to see if I hear anything. But there’s nothing. Nothing but cold silence.
“Okay,” I say out loud.
I don’t know if it’s okay to pray for missing dogs, but I know it’s okay to pray. So I pray for Midnight. And myself.
And then I follow my narrow beam of light into the pitch black.
79. A Familiar Face
The dirt underneath my tennis shoes sometimes crunches as I step over a rock. Every now and then air blasts through the tunnel like someone is trying to blow out the candle on a birthday cake. My one wish is to find Midnight and get out of here. Of course, I’m not even sure if she’s down here. This could all be one big setup by Gus.
Maybe he and his friends will jump me and beat me up and leave me for dead.
But I don’t think that’s the case.
I think Gus is terrified of his daddy and won’t do something like that. He can touch my dog, but he still can’t touch me.
Maybe that’s what you think.
At times it seems like the top of the tunnel is dripping or leaking even though it hasn’t rained for a while. I keep track of every turn I make on my iPhone by typing down the opposite of what I did. When I take a right-hand turn, I type left so that I’ll do that on my way back.
Of course, if I’m being chased by a zombie or a demon dog, I don’t think I’ll be casually looking at the fine print on the note I made to myself.
Maybe I’ll whip out my iPhone and try to beat someone’s head with it just like Staunch did to me.
The air is stale down here. Maybe I’m breathing faster because of my nerves, but it seems like I just can’t suck down a decent enough breath. The sounds echo. When I occasionally cough, it seems like something is erupting all around me.
I reach an intersection that connects with another tunnel. I can either keep going straight, turn right as I already have three times, or take a left.
You’re lost and have no clue.
“Midnight.”
Calling her makes me worry more. It makes me feel that even if the sleeping ghosts didn’t know I was down here yet, they sure do now.
“Midnight, you around here?”
I’m growing more annoyed, which means I’m growing impatient and starting not to care if I’m heard.
I decide to head straight. I don’t mark this down since I’m not turning. Maybe I’ll remember, and maybe they’ll never find me again.
Have people ever gotten permanently lost down here? Like the guy at the end of The Shining?
I really don’t like that thought.
At least it’s not snowing.
Yeah. That’s really encouraging.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been down here or how far I’ve walked when my flashlight goes out.
“Oh, come on.”
I think I shout this, because I’m seriously angry. I jostle the flashlight and turn it on and off and then undo the back and twist it back on to see if that does anything.
Nope.
Come on. I mean—really?
Then I remember my iPhone, which is sorta my generation’s answer to the Swiss Army knife. I go to turn it on, and it seems as dead as the flashlight.
Emphasis on the word dead.
I eventually stop trying. I shiver and bring my arms close to my body for the moment, and stop and listen.
Silence.
What was that?
It was nothing. I didn’t hear anything.
Something shuffling on the ground.
I might be imagining things. I don’t know.
I’m about ready to get the extra batteries from my pack when I definitely hear something ahead of me. A crackling sound.
Then I smell it and know what’s making that sound.
Something’s burning.
I stare ahead and suddenly see an orange and red glow. Up ahead the tunnel veers right, not allowing me to see the fire but to see the illuminating flickers of light coming from it.
Get out of here, Chris, run back.
I hold a hand up to my mouth, but think for a second.
Something tells me I need to see this.
It’s a trap designed by Gus. He brought you down here to choke.
I cough and try not to breathe in. My eyes are burning and tearing up.
I decide I have to look. Now or never, so I decide now.
I sprint straight ahead with one hand still over my mouth and the other one holding the big metal flashlight. At some point I still need to crack somebody over the head with it. That’s why I got it. That’s why it’s so perfect.
The tunnel is getting thicker with dark smoke and warmer as I get to where it turns.
Except when I look around now, I don’t find myself in a tunnel anymore. Instead I’m standing in front of a burning house. Not a casual flame that a firefighter could put out, but hellish, scary flames that look more like an inferno. I duck back because they’re so hot and I feel like my face is being burned, my hair getting singed.
Where am I?
It’s still hard to breathe, still difficult to fully look ahead without squinting.
The two-story house could be anywhere. It’s not in a neighborhood. It seems to be surrounded by woods, maybe at the end of the road or a long driveway.
Then I see a dark figure standing out from the flames.
A guy, not very tall, standing and staring at the flames. He almost looks like he’s part of them, but he’s not.
In one hand is what appears to be a gas can.
He did it, this guy did this.
I wonder if the tunnel ended, and that’s how I suddenly came upon this scene. Yet another part of me knows that the tunnel didn’t morph into this. I’m here, and yet I don’t think I’m fully here right now.
Sure smells and tastes and feels like you are.
The man standing in front of me facing the fire turns, and I see that he’s a kid just like me.
A kid who looks a lot like a young Pastor Marsh.
No, that is Pastor Marsh. That’s Jeremiah Marsh before he ever became a pastor.
I see an awful expression on his face even as I see the tears streaming down both sides of his cheeks. It’s awful, because the look is of pure and utter joy. Like a guy who has found his place in life.
He turns back around and keeps watching the house that he just burned down.
Is this what happened to you? Is this why you turned out the way you did?
I want to leave this place, this vision or nightmare that’s full of raging fire and hot despair. I want to run back to the tunnel. Yet just as I turn to go, something brushes by me.
Someone.
And then he’s next to the teenaged Marsh. The figure is a lot taller and skinny, and he puts an arm around Marsh.
He turns and faces the boy, and I see that it’s Kinner. This is Walter Kinner, my great-grandfather, taking a weeping Jeremiah Marsh in his arms and holding him like he might do his own son.
I don’t want to see any more. I begin to back up and I shut my eyes and I say no over and over again.
Then I remember what else I brought with me. Besides the batteries and the jacket. Something I’m not carrying in my pockets but rather in my memory.
I draw a blank. I know I should’ve written the Bible verses down. I can’t remember the
m.
“The Lord is my rock,” I say. “Reach down Your hand and deliver me.”
Then another one.
“Have mercy on me. When I pray.”
It’s something like that.
“I come to You for protection, God—Lord. Help me. Save me.”
The verses that I memorized—half a dozen—all blur and morph like the flames reaching out to the heavens and drifting to black.
“Be my rock and my fortress, God. Please protect me.”
I open my eyes and find myself back in the tunnel. I’m still holding the flashlight in my hand, and it’s still not working. Same with the iPhone.
Now I’m turned around and have no idea which way to go. The flames and smoke are gone, even though I can still taste them and smell them.
That fire was real.
I decide to just keeping heading straight.
And as I do, I keep whispering and saying fragments of the psalms that I thought I knew.
I guess God doesn’t really care as long as you mean what you’re saying. And I do. I really do.
80. Protection
When I hear the tiny bark, more of a little yelp than anything else, I almost start to cry.
“Midnight! Midnight, where are you?”
I yell out and run in the direction of the barking. My iPhone turns back on and says that it’s 2:25 a.m., which means I’ve been walking for over two hours. I might be in Chicago as far as I know.
Or maybe I’m going to encounter a big wheel, and once I turn it I’ll end up in the desert, and the town of Solitary will disappear.
If that’s the case, let me get a few people before it goes away.
My flashlight is working again, so it had to be the batteries. At least that’s what I’m telling myself. But with the phone not working and the sudden visit to Infernoland, I get the feeling it had nothing to do with batteries or electronics.
I jog toward the sound because I don’t want to trip and fall on the rocky floor. I stop and listen for Midnight. I know I heard her.
The bark comes again. “Midnight!” I stop and move my head, straining to hear. A woman’s scream pierces the darkness.
What the—
It’s an awful scream, and it just keeps going until I hear it stopped.
No, not stopped, but rather muffled. Like a hand going over a mouth.
I take a few steps, but suddenly I don’t want to go any farther. I don’t want to see anything else. I just want my dog and then I want to get out of here.
Something brushes by me—something or someone.
“Midnight!”
I flash the light ahead and see that the tunnel has ended in a door. An average door with an average handle. It doesn’t look like something that belongs down here in an ancient tunnel.
Don’t open it don’t Chris.
I wonder how many times I’ve heard that voice in my head and how many times in my life I’ve refused to do what it tells me to do. I know why. It’s because I’m stubborn and don’t like being told what to do. And because of that …
Jocelyn happened.
And because of that …
Jared happened. And Lily. And Kelsey. And not telling my parents. And trying to do it my own way.
It hasn’t worked out well. Yet I still find myself turning the handle and
When are you going to learn little boy little stupid ignorant boy?
I open the door and see a grim light in the corner of a bedroom revealing a grim scene.
A woman sits on the edge of her bed, crying and shaking. For a second I think it’s Heidi Marsh and the man standing over her is Jeremiah Marsh, but then I realize that the woman is dark-haired and I’ve never seen her before. At least not that I know of.
Even though she looks a bit familiar.
She’s got a round face and swollen eyes and one of them looks really swollen, like a boxer’s eye during a fight. There’s blood at the edge of her mouth. Her makeup is a mess, just like her hair. She’s wearing a jean jacket as if she’s ready to go out. Then I see a suitcase on the bed.
The man standing over her is saying something to her, but I can’t hear it. He’s whispering.
She starts to cry, and the man lashes out and slaps her in the face like he …
Literally swatted a fly.
I think back to Newt being slapped like that in the hallway by Gus on one of my first days at Harrington.
The woman shrinks down and weeps and holds her hands over her mouth as if to try to keep quiet, but it’s not working.
“I told you to shut up,” a strong Southern voice says. “You hear me, girl?”
I’m standing in their bedroom, and I realize that this is another vision or dream.
I don’t want to be here get me out please Lord.
I shut my eyes, but I still hear the voices.
I know.
I know who this is now.
It’s not Gus swatting Newt; it’s his father swatting his mother.
Whom I’ve never ever seen.
“I swear this is the last time you’re gonna back talk me ever, and I mean ever,” Staunch says to the woman. “No one in this house will ever—ever—disrespect me.”
My eyes are still shut, and then I hear the screams again.
I’m squinting, begging God to deliver me from this. But the screams keep coming.
They become howls. Awful, hurting howls.
I open my eyes and see Staunch with his right hand on her throat and his left hand over her mouth. Pressing her down on the bed while her body flails. Pressing. Pressing.
He’s suffocating her.
I look around and find a lamp, and I try to pick it up but I can’t. I can feel it but I can’t move it.
What are the rules of being in this nightmare? Tell me, God. Please.
For several minutes I hear the muffled sound of Mrs. Staunch trying to scream and then it stops. Just like her body stops. Just like her life stops.
Staunch doesn’t stop, however.
He just keeps holding her down, as if he’s trying to shove her through the mattress. He continues to mash her down, squeezing and squashing.
I start to cry, and I yell, “Stop it please stop it,” but of course he doesn’t.
Because of course this already happened.
Finally Staunch lets her go, but she’s been gone long before he does this.
He sits on the edge of the bed, facing me. He’s younger, but he looks the same.
He also looks possessed.
There is a blank look on his face. He doesn’t show any remorse or fear or surprise. Just utter emptiness.
Then it grows cold again, and I know what’s going to happen.
I see the figure walking next to me and then standing beside Staunch.
“It is done, my son,” Walter Kinner tells Staunch.
Kinner puts his hand on Staunch’s head the way a preacher might put his hand on a baby’s head during a baptism.
“I will protect you from this day on,” Kinner says.
I watch and wait.
The vision is going to go away. Surely it’s going to go away. Right?
He delivered me from my powerful enemies from those who hated me and were too strong for me.
I stand and remember now.
They attacked me at a moment when I was weakest but the Lord upheld me.
I stand and watch and breathe slowly.
He led me to a place of safety, He rescued me because He delights in me.
The tears are no longer falling down my face, but I’m still scared and sad.
“Hold me up, God.”
I say this over and over again.
“Lead me to a safe place.”
And then a blink turns to darkness, and I find myself back in the tunnel.
Back in the tunnel with something at my foot.
I know it’s going to be a hand now. It’s going to be Kinner’s decomposing body lying on the ground, grasping after me like one of the walking dead. I shine the light down, and instead of seeing anything scary, I see Midnight.
She wants me to pick her up. And you know—I don’t blame her.
“Come here, little thing—are you okay?”
I check her out and let her give me kisses, and she turns out to be fine.
Thank You, God. Thank You.
I’m holding her and kissing her, and I wish that someone would do the same for me.
But they already have, Chris, and you know it. You know it deep down, and that’s what makes you different from these monsters.
I feel a slight chill coming from in front of me. So I start walking, hoping that this is a good sign, hoping and praying for no more visions.
No more come on this night or early morning. Thank God.
The tunnel morphs into a mouth of a cave, the same one I stepped outside the first time I came down here.
The time Kelsey’s father picked me up and brought me back home.
I wonder if that was a coincidence. At the time I didn’t think anything of it. Kelsey’s father happened to be driving at night in the distance of Solitary, and he picked me up.
No big deal.
But it was Kelsey’s father.
Maybe God was controlling things back then, just like He’s controlling things now.
Then I realize there’s no maybe about it.
This is a comforting thought after the horrific scenes I just saw. It’s comforting just like Midnight is in my hands.
I’m still holding her, and I’m not going to let her go. Not until I bring her back to a safe place where I can make sure she’s okay.
81. Sweet Dreams
Others aren’t having this sort of life, so why are you?
Did God choose this for you? This path, this destination, this fate?
Did He pinpoint this place on the map to lead you to? To suffer and to shiver? To wonder deep in the night like now, listening to headphones and wondering why?
Hurt: A Novel (Solitary Tales Series) Page 24
