by Hamill, Ike
“What’s up, dad?” asked Jack.
“I was talking to the sheriff again this morning, and I want you to talk to him again. You three have a seat,” he pointed to the couch.
“Sure, Dad,” said Jack.
The sheriff sat down in the big chair again. He flipped through his notes for several moments before looking up at the boys. Jack’s dad stood behind him and to the left with his arm’s crossed.
“We had two young men in custody for shooting local pets,” Sheriff Kurtwood said, eyeing each of the boys.
Jack, Ben, and Stephen remained quiet.
“I said ‘had’ because they’re out on bail now,” said the sheriff.
“Oh,” said Jack.
“But,” the sheriff continued, “they were nervous and one of my deputies overheard them talking one night. They must have thought they were alone. This deputy is very quiet.”
Jack looked up at his dad who returned his gaze and held it.
“It seems that the two young men we had in custody seemed to think they had been witnessed by three boys,” the sheriff continued. “They also mentioned a man who was target-shooting, but I’m guessing that one wasn’t you.”
Jack looked at Ben and Stephen. His face pink and the tips of his ears red, Ben looked only at his own feet. Stephen, the complete opposite, looked comfortable and possibly even a little amused.
“We didn’t see anyone,” said Jack.
“You’re not going to be in trouble, Jack,” said the sheriff. “Not from me at least, and not from your dad. But, if these men think you turned them in, then that will be trouble.”
“Jack, if you saw something, then tell Sheriff Kurtwood—he’s here to help,” said Jack’s dad.
Ben looked up—“He’s telling the truth, he didn’t see anything,” he blurted out.
Everyone was silent, waiting for Ben’s confession.
“I got ahead of Stephen and Jack when we were hiking, and I saw two guys with a gun. I wasn’t sure if they saw me or not, but I really don’t think they saw Stephen and Jack, so maybe they were talking about some other kids.”
“What did they look like?” asked the sheriff.
“They were about six feet I guess,” said Ben. “One was skinny and smoking all the time. He had long side-burns and had a handgun tucked into his belt in back. The other one had long hair and carried a brown paper bag around.”
The sheriff wrote in his notebook and then asked “What day was this?”
Ben looked up and away, and said “Uh, the day after fireworks, so the fifth I guess.”
“Okay,” said the sheriff. “And where were you?”
“The pits, or quarry,” said Ben.
“And Stephen and Jack were?”
“Behind me somewhere. I got ahead.”
“And where did the older boys go?”
“I don’t know,” said Ben. “They were leaving when I saw them, so I just hid behind a tree.”
“And then you found the shells?” asked the sheriff.
“Well, yeah, I mean Stephen and Jack actually found them,” replied Ben.
“And you told them about the older boys?”
“Yeah, I mentioned it,” said Ben.
“And none of you thought to mention this last time I was here?”
“We didn’t want to get into any more trouble, sir,” said Stephen. “We didn’t really see anything important.”
Jack’s dad broke in—“It’s not up to you to decide what’s important. You three need to keep that in mind. What you were in trouble for was hiding something that would have been important for you parents to know.”
“I know dad,” said Jack, “I’m really sorry. We were really scared.”
“Okay,” said the sheriff, standing up. “I’ve got what I need. I suggest you boys be careful.”
Jack’s dad showed the sheriff out and they discussed the situation on the porch for a few minutes.
“Why did you do that?” Jack whispered to Ben.
“Shhh, he’s coming back,” said Ben.
Jack’s dad came back into the living room and sat down in his big chair.
“Anything else I should know?” asked Jack’s dad.
“I’m trying very hard to not overreact here, boys,” he continued. “You just have to understand that this is a difficult time for a parent. You’re trying to be independent and make your own way, but there are a lot of things in the world that can hurt you, and you’re not equipped to recognize them all yet. Most kids your age are having a very structured summer of activities, but you’ve asked to entertain yourselves and all your parents agreed that it was okay.”
“Thank you, Dad,” said Jack.
“Yeah, thanks Mr. Randolph,” said Stephen.
“Okay,” he continued, “but the burden on us is to somehow make sure you’re safe, without imposing so many rules that you’re hamstrung in what you can do.”
Jack’s dad took a deep breath. “I think you’ve done okay so far this summer, and learned that you need to maintain boundaries. So, you’re not in any trouble over this, but remember—we’re here to help you. No secrets.”
“Okay—thanks,” said Jack.
“Stephen,” Jack’s dad said, “call your mom.”
“Okay,” said Stephen.
**********
Jack and Ben waited in Jack’s room for Stephen to get off the phone. He walked in with a big smile and closed the door behind him.
“End of the month!” said Stephen.
“Nice!” said Jack.
“What about swimming class?” asked Ben.
“She moved it,” he said. “There’s a new class that starts on August first, so I’m going to take that.”
“So are we going to confirm your theories about the letter today?” Ben asked Jack.
“I guess,” Jack said. “My dad said we weren’t going to be punished or anything. You almost ruined it with that confession—what was that about?”
“I had to do something,” said Ben. “I was totally blowing it ‘cuz I was so nervous. I knew the sheriff knew I knew something.”
“All in all, it was a pretty good lie,” said Stephen.
“What?” exclaimed Jack. “It was totally lame.”
“No, seriously,” started Stephen, “it completely explained why we were clearly covering something up. I think it worked great. Did you see the way the sheriff just dismissed everything after that?”
Jack thought about it. “I guess. You think he really bought it?”
“Oh yeah,” said Stephen. “Good job, Ben.”
“Do you think my dad is right—we should be telling him everything?” asked Jack.
“That’s retarded,” said Stephen. “He’d lose his mind!”
“Yeah,” continued Jack, “but what if he’s right? What if that place is really dangerous and we’re being stupid?”
“We’re not going to do anything dangerous,” said Ben. “We’ve already talked about that. We’ll be completely careful.”
“Yeah,” said Stephen.
“Okay,” Jack acquiesced.
“Let’s get going,” said Ben.
**********
“Got it,” said Stephen. He had propped a piece of two-by-four in the hatch in the side of the building. The bottom of the board rested on the sill and the top was wedged against the sliding concrete door they suspected blocked the hatch when it was closed. Ben was already waiting down in the room they now called the “drawing room,” named for the anatomical drawing on the far wall.
Jack held the step-ladder for Stephen as he swung over the ledge and stared down rope-ladder to bottom of the passage. Next, Jack headed up the ladder.
“Okay,” said Jack, “lights on. I’m turning off the switch.”
When they first arrived and opened the hatch they had found the switch on. After some debate they believed that they had accidentally left it on. It had made them quite nervous to think they were not the only ones using this doorway, but after reassuring eac
h other, they believed they had done it themselves.
Jack joined his friends in the “drawing room” as they looked around with their flashlights.
“Does the letter say anything about this room?” asked Ben.
Jack dug around in his backpack and produced the letter. “I don’t know. We’re supposed to start at the bottom. This room is definitely at the bottom. Is there a heart on that drawing?” Jack pointed at the drawing on the wall with his light. “If there is, it may be his deepest vulnerability.”
Stephen was closest to the drawing on the wall. He walked over and inspected the drawing. From top to bottom, he held his light close to the wall and examined the artwork. “There’s a hole in his heart,” he said.
“What?” asked Ben as he joined Stephen at the drawing. “Incredible.”
“Here—look,” said Stephen.
When Jack caught up with his friends the were looking at a quarter-inch hole in the wall. Just below the surface of the painted drywall, they could see a glass lens filled the hole.
“Looks like a peep-hole,” said Stephen. “Like in an apartment door.”
Stephen pressed his face to the wall and looked into the drawing of a heart.
“No way,” he exhaled.
“What? Let someone else see.” Ben pushed Stephen aside and looked into the hole.
“There’s a room in there, with three doors at the end,” Stephen told Jack. “The one on the right has light behind it.”
“How can you tell—about the light?” Jack asked.
“You can see it coming out from underneath,” Ben answered. “It’s the only light, but you can see the whole room.”
Ben backed up and let Jack have a look. The room through the peephole appeared narrow, with just enough space on the far wall for the three doors. Jack saw black walls and ceiling, and a floor covered in a grid of alternating black and white tiles.
When he pulled his eye away from the hole, Jack was confused—“I think it’s small—like a dollhouse or something.”
“No way—what makes you think that?” asked Stephen.
“I don’t know,” said Jack. “It just does. Hey—is that his ‘deepest vulnerability?’”
“Oh yeah—his heart,” Ben answered. “That makes sense, but what does it tell us.”
“That’s the line about the ‘Truth,’ right?” Stephen asked.
“Yeah,” said Jack. “So, do you think the truth is the light?”
“Is that one of the good sentences, or the lies?” asked Stephen.
Jack pulled out the letter and reviewed his highlighting. “Yeah, that’s one of the good ones.”
“We haven’t proved that yet,” said Ben. “It’s just a theory.”
“Easy enough,” said Jack as he moved towards the ladder. “Stand back.”
“Shouldn’t you just not grab that rung?” said Ben.
“No, we have to prove that the letter is giving us clues,” Jack replied.
Stephen had gone back to looking through the hole in the drawing’s heart. “I think maybe it is a model,” he said.
“Okay—ready?” asked Jack. His head was even with the ceiling and he was about to grab the next rung.
“Sure, we’re ready—you’re the one who needs to be ready,” said Ben.
He moved with confidence until his hand was about an inch from the shocking rung. For a microsecond his hand touched and then he drew it back.
“Did it get you?” asked Ben. “Is it on?”
“I don’t think so,” said Jack. He brushed the rung twice more and then actually grabbed it for a split-second before letting it go. “Nope, I don’t think it’s on.”
“Cool—so what’s up there?” asked Stephen.
Jack pointed his flashlight to reveal that the rungs continued for another six feet or so. He pulled himself up, looking back at the hatch that had closed automatically the day before.
“Hey, this panel is back open—I didn’t even think of that,” said Jack.
“Oh yeah, that probably reset or something,” said Stephen.
“Where was it?” asked Ben.
“Right above the ceiling there—Jack’s probably clearing it now,” Stephen answered.
“Hope it doesn’t close now,” said Ben.
Moving fast, Jack descended back through the hole in the ceiling, jumping the last few feet. “Hey—I think I just figured out the next piece,” he had a broad smile.
“What, the letter?” asked Ben.
Unfolding the letter, Jack trained his flashlight on the writing. “Look here, it says ‘Only the first King’s Bishop treads without fear.’ right? Stephen, you said the white King’s Bishop only touches the white squares?”
“Yeah,” said Stephen.
“That room up there has a black and white floor, like a chess board,” said Jack.
“Like the model?” asked Ben.
“Huh?” Jack was surprised.
Ben pointed his light to the anatomical drawing of the body. “The model.”
“Yeah, yeah—like the floor on the model,” said Jack.
“I want to go see,” said Stephen.
“Only step on the white!” ordered Jack. Stephen was already halfway up the ladder.
Gingerly, Stephen climbed through the hole in the ceiling and when his feet disappeared, Jack climbed up after him. Alone in the drawing room, Ben watched Jack disappear. He was about to move towards the ladder when Jack’s face reappeared.
“Come on!” said Jack.
Ben emerged on the next floor to find Jack and Stephen with their feet spread and planted on white tiles. He followed suit and stepped off the ladder onto white, not letting his feet hit the black tiles. Each tile was twelve inches square, so it was easy for the boys to fit a foot on a single tile, but they had to spread their feet awkwardly to plant both feet. The tiles were laid out in an alternating pattern, like a chess board.
Stephen shone his light at the opposite end where they saw three doors. “This is the model,” he said.
“There’s no light,” said Ben.
“That makes sense,” said Jack. “He wanted us to know the correct door from the model. We were supposed to figure out that clue.”
“You really want that to be true, don’t you?” asked Ben.
“It is true,” replied Jack.
“Well I don’t think we should try either of the other doors, just to prove the point,” said Stephen. He began to walk towards the doors, only touching the white tiles.
Jack looked at Ben and then followed Stephen.
“We really ought to figure out a way to jam this panel, in case it decides to close again,” said Ben.
“I think it’s off because the switch is off,” Jack said as he stepped from tile to tile.
Bending down as much as he could, Ben examined the panel. It was metal and enclosed in a metal shell, bolted to the floor. Ben looked around, but didn’t see anything he could use to block the panel from closing, so he followed his friends over to the door.
“It opens in,” said Stephen. “Should I try it?” he asked.
“Go ahead,” said Jack.
With no hesitation, Stephen turned the knob. The door swung inward forcefully and pushed back on Stephen’s tense arm. He lost his balance and stumbled, placing a foot directly on one of the black tiles.
“Watch out!” said Jack.
The three froze and exhaled relief after a few seconds with no apparent repercussions from Stephen’s errant footfall.
“So much for…” Ben was cut off by a grinding sound behind him.
The boys spun around to see the panel sliding shut, blocking them from the ladder.
“Shit!” exclaimed Ben—he ran back over the white tiles to the ladder just as it was traversing the last six inches to the wall.
“I don’t think you need to worry about the white tiles now, Ben,” said Jack.
“I think we do,” said Ben. “Seriously, get back on white,” he pointed his flashlight at Stephen’s feet. Wh
en Stephen had retreated, Ben looked at his watch—“We were here almost fifteen minutes before we totally screwed that up.”
“Well I think we need to be worried about what’s past this door—it’s our only option now.”
“Just stand still for a second,” said Ben. “Jack, what else does the letter say?”
“Hold up,” Jack dug out the letter again. “Uh, well there’s some junk and then it eventually says ‘take solace in the fact that at first, level heads have patience while their hands part and meet again.’”
“And that’s a true one?” asked Ben.
“C’mon, we should just be going through the door,” said Stephen. “There’s bound to be another way out somewhere.”
“Who knows how many more traps there are,” said Ben. “I’m not going anywhere until we figure out how to get this panel back open.”
“We should have brought a pry-bar or something,” said Jack. “We knew that panel was…”
Jack was cut off by the sound of the panel sliding again.
“It’s opening,” said Ben. “Jesus, I thought we were trapped in here.”
“How long was it shut?” asked Jack.
“I don’t know for sure—about a minute?” said Ben, checking his watch again. “Maybe we should get something to jam this door too.”
“Seriously?” said Stephen. “Can’t we just see what’s down here?”
“No,” said Jack, “Ben’s right—we need to make sure we have a clear path out.”
“Okay,” Stephen gave in. “But I think that the door probably resets by itself anyway.” He started to make his way back across the tiles.
From white to white, Jack carefully crossed the tiles. When they had joined at the ladder, Ben started to make his way down through the hole.
“Hey—can you hold this for a second?” Jack asked Stephen—he held out his flashlight. Stephen took the light and pointed it at Jack’s hands where he was neatly folding the letter to put it back in his pocket. “Thanks,” he said.
Jack reached back for his flashlight. Stephen handed it over and Jack botched the transfer. The light fell to the floor, landing hard on one of the black squares.
“Shit!” yelled Jack. “Ben get through.”
“I’m through!” Ben called up from below.
“Check your watch!” said Stephen as the panel began to shut again.
