"Here kitty, kitty…" My voice was shaking and I prayed to hear the familiar meow of Louisa.
But the only sound was my breathing.
And my teeth chattering.
Because now? Not only were there strange noises, but the temperature had just dropped big-time. And the dim lights began flickering overhead, making shadows dance around me. Could it be the lighting in here? Somehow my nerves didn't think so.
Come on, you wimp. Just look down the next aisle. Louisa'll be sitting there licking her paw, I tried to convince myself.
But when I did, it wasn't Louisa I saw. It was a couple of books, about half-way down the aisle, laying face up on the wood floor. Big, thick books which definitely wouldn't fall with a little gust of wind, or even if our fat library cat leaned against them. This was crazy, and I shook as I got closer. Which is when crazy became out of control. Their titles?
Tunnels of the Ancient Ones
and
Going Underground: A Story of Survival
Chapter Ten
KIRKE H. WOODS
After I got the courage to put the books back on the shelf, I got upstairs as fast as my cast would carry me. Normally I like to bring home old stuff. But you've got to be nuts if that stuff could totally send messages from another time. So I'm not taking any chances. Besides, these weren't books you could check out. They'd been donated for the auction. I could always go down to the basement again before the auction to take a look at them when I wasn't so freaked out. One thing I did know: someone was trying to tell me something, and I needed to find out what it was.
Shelving the rest of the books for Ms. Finstead calmed me down. It helped to do normal stuff. Just before closing, I worked the front desk and checked out books to the stragglers who always waited until the last minute. Then I followed Ms. Finstead around while she shut the lights off. I knew I had to tell someone what happened and she'd been working at the library forever. You can't work somewhere forever and not know if there was some paranormal stuff going on.
"Oh, that's just Kirke," Ms. Finstead answered when I told her about the books and how the door had been unlocked. "He was a trustee of our library back in the late eighteen hundreds. He was just letting you know he's around."
Okay, so that's weird. "You're telling me a ghost likes to push books off the shelves?" I asked. "It's his idea of fun?" For some reason, I didn't want to tell her what the titles of the books were.
"Yes," she said matter-of-factly, as if this stuff happened all the time around here. "I think he likes to help us come to decisions in our life or give us clues to questions we have. Even in death he seems to want to help. He used to mentor the youth in Citrus Grove when he was a young lawyer here back in the eighteen nineties."
Okay, so it's super great to help people, but it's so not super if you're scaring the pee out of the living from the afterlife. Last I checked, most people don't like to have the crud scared out of them. But I didn't tell that to Ms. Finstead, I just waited to see what else she would say.
"When I was a young girl working here and going to school, I had a hard time deciding if I wanted to be a nurse or a librarian. One day, when I was shelving books, a few flew off the shelves beside me. Guess what they were about?"
I shrugged my shoulders, but then felt pretty sure of the answer. "Libraries?" I hoped I was wrong. If I wasn't, then I'd need to face the fact this Kirke guy was trying to tell me something too. Which would mean what happened down in the basement was real, something I still wasn't ready to admit was a possibility.
"That's right," she nodded. "In fact, the box I had you bring downstairs? It was full of minutes from the meetings of The Fortnightly Club. It was a club which formed to help build our town back in the early days. The members cared about Citrus Grove and its people. You can thank them for this library, the local university, and the historical museum. Kirke was the president of the club for many years and he was also an elder at my church. But that's old news."
"Did you read the books?" I asked.
"No need to dear. My question of what career choice I should make was answered with the titles of the books. I didn't need to learn the history of libraries to know my true calling."
So judging from the books I saw, I guess someone's trying to tell me there are tunnels and the lizard people did exist. "You're sure Kirke made the books fall?"
"Oh yes, I had definitive proof," she chuckled. "His apparition nearly scared me to death. After I picked the books up off the floor, he walked past me and tipped his hat. Problem was, I could see through him!"
I shivered. "Totally creepy, Ms. Finstead."
"It was," she nodded. "I worried about it for weeks, hoping I'd never see his ghost again. Then I saw him in an old photograph in the rectory at my church. There was a picture of him with the other elders from the old days. After that, I wasn't so scared anymore."
"What does he look like…you know, in case he ever visits me?"
"Oh you can't miss the resemblance to Colonel Sanders. All the way down to the white suit and tie."
I guess I wouldn't be scared to see the Colonel. We did have something in common after all: we both loved his chicken, extra crispy.
As we walked to the front door, she pointed to a brass plaque I'd never noticed before. At the top it said:
IN GRATITUDE FOR ESTABLISHING
THE CITRUS GROVE LIBRARY
"See his name?" she asked.
Scanning the alphabetical list, I finally saw it. KIRKE HART WOODS. I was surprised to see the e added to the end of his first name and wondered if it was an old-fashioned spelling. But before I could think about it anymore, another cold breeze flew past me and I buttoned the two top buttons of my coat. I wasn't sure if it was to keep me warm or to protect me from spirits wanting to hitch a ride home with me. I sure didn't need a slumber party of invisible guests keeping me up all night.
"Wow, it's a chilly one tonight," Ms. Finstead said as she wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck and opened the front door. "We best get home before we catch a chill."
A chill or a ghost? I asked myself as she locked the front door. I'd read somewhere that spirits suck up the heat in a room to use as energy so they can show themselves.
I stared through the glass windows of the door, over to where the plaque hung on the wall. Something wasn't right. What was the cloudy white stuff hovering around the plaque? My eyes were tired, so I blinked a few times to clear my vision. Only it didn't work so now I was really freaked out. Must get a grip. Besides, if it was Kirke, then I shouldn't be scared. Ms. Finstead said he was harmless so everything's good, right?
But it might not be Kirke. The words echoed in my head.
I almost didn't want to ask the next question, but knew it was now or never. I could see Dad was waiting for me. He beeped and waved.
"Ms. Finstead?"
"Yes, dear?"
"You said Kirke was a member of your church…which one do you go to?" I held my breath, knowing her answer might confirm what both excited and scared me: Colonel Sanders's look-alike knew what I'd been doing at his old church.
I could tell she was curious but she still didn't ask why I wanted to know. "Why, the Methodist church, right around the corner. You know, the only brick one of the four churches at Olive and Center."
Okay, now I'm officially creeped out.
TOP TEN THINGS I'D RATHER DO THAN EAT ONE OF MY MOM'S DINNERS
10.Go shopping at the mall with Evan while he chooses his next "look."
9.Use bathroom after Sam has spent a good half hour in there. No amount of air freshener can take care of that smell.
8. Eat oatmeal for dinner for a whole week.
7.Do dishes after Mom cooks dinner. Lady sure knows how to burn a pan.
6.Ride in backseat with Sam to Grandma's house in Montana. Twenty hours of Sam's non-stop talking & farting is torture. Can you say ear buds and nose plugs?
5.Sit through an entire anime feature film based on a graphic novel that's five hundred pa
ges long.
4.Do a fifteen hundred word book report on graphic novel (see #5).
3.Sit through a lecture in the gym while our principal talks about appropriate and inappropriate behavior. Snore.
2.Discuss quantum physics with my dad without falling asleep.
And the #1 thing I'd rather do than eat my Mom's food:
Try to open my locker while Kelley Coffey and her latest football jock block me 'cause they're too busy flirting to move. Her locker's been next to mine since fifth grade. Pure torture.
Chapter Eleven
FEVERS, NIGHTMARES AND AN OLD JOURNAL
Ten days have passed since David asked me to the concert and Kirke-with-an-e paid his little visit to me. But I'd kind of forgotten about my spirit friend for now. Instead, I kept wondering if maybe I was about to have my first group date and if David liked me. Or could it be he was just a nice guy offering to take me since I couldn't afford my own ticket? 'Cause I for sure didn't want anyone feeling sorry for me, especially David. That would be totally embarrassing.
We hadn't talked since the day he drove me home. I woke up the day after riding in his future-car sicker than I'd ever been. Stupid swine flu kept me from my tutoring session and I'd missed school, too. Hopefully I'd see him around on Monday so I could let him know Mom and Dad said I could go to the concert. There's no way I wanted to call him and I doubted he'd call me.
So it's Saturday morning and I'm finally over the worst fever I've ever had. Thankfully those stupid fever nightmares were gone. That's what Mom calls them. As soon as I fall asleep, all I dream about is being chased through a maze of tunnels. Problem was, I could never tell who was chasing me. It was more of a feeling they were there. This last one was the worst. There were all these twists and turns with no way out. And I heard the voice. The one I'd heard the other day—the one yelling, "Get out!"
Then there's the nonstop worry about when Ashley and Kelley are going to drop the big plan they surely have to embarrass me. I knew it was coming and the waiting was killing me. I wish we'd never started the daily question. Because all this worrying was taking me away from all-things-tunnels which was totally not okay.
Evan dropped off a journal he found in Pops's old library a few days ago, and my plan was to read it this morning. Although it's not the map of tunnels Pops told us about, a journal could still tell me a lot. So would the attic and basement of his old house, if I could just get in there and see what had been collected since the late eighteen hundreds. I knew there had to be lots of super cool artifacts which told a story of their own. I wonder if Pops's father knew Kirke?
"We're going, dear," Mom yelled from the front door. She'd already given me a million kisses and hugs—what's that about?—and Dad had patted me on the head.
"'Kay, have fun." I'd lucked out because they were going to some financial seminar for the day, and Demon Boy had a sleepover last night. So sweet. A completely empty house and time to read some of the journal before going to check out the tunnels again. Grabbing a bowl of my favorite cereal (because those sweet puffy squares are great, but whoever decided to coat them with peanut butter was pure genius), I sat down at the kitchen table and turned to the first page. I rested my feet on one of the other chairs and wiggled my toes. All ten of them because no more cast! The doctor was amazed at my ultra-quick healing and I told him it was because of all the milk I drink. It's my beverage of choice.
July 4, 1943
This certainly doesn't feel like Independence Day. I just said goodbye to my buddy George and I thought Emily would never stop crying. I told her to be strong. But I guess she couldn't. If I didn't know better, I'd say she was upset because she and George never got a chance to have the big wedding they were planning. They're too young for marriage anyhow. Both not even eighteen yet. It's a shame he lied about his age to enlist. But that's the kind of man he is. Felt it was his patriotic duty. A braver one you'll not find. But I do know Emily, and I figure it goes much deeper than some ceremony. She's always been able to predict the future, and I'm afraid she's seen George won't be coming home. Of course, she'd never tell me if that were the case. Mother and Father have forbidden her to talk about such things. They say she's dealing in the dark arts, which is quite silly if you ask me. So she keeps it all pent up—until a day like today happens and she just can't help but let it out.
Doggone war has upset so many lives. But this is for the greatest of causes and I told Emily as much. I asked her how she'd feel if the Germans were ready to invade her neighborhood, let alone the rest of Europe. It didn't help. She locked herself in her room and wouldn't come out. Wonder when my number will be up?
Edward
How weird. I didn't even know Pops had a sister, let alone his name was Edward. I wonder what happened to Emily. It's strange Evan never mentioned her. It's also strange I never realized his family has so many names beginning with the letter E! Flipping to another page, I read some more.
August 1, 1943
Found Emily down in the basement again today, but it wasn't like the other days. This time she acted nervous and seemed to be fidgeting in the corner where we keep the air raid supplies. Says she was just cleaning up but something was off. When I went down again later, she'd drawn a heart on the wall. I don't know what to think about that. Wish life would just go back to normal and we could have our talks. But she doesn't seem to want to speak much to me or anyone else and has been inconsolable because she's received no word from George yet. I told her sometimes in war no news is good news, and if George's folks haven't hung a gold star on their door yet, then chances are he's okay. Mother wants to take her to a head doctor, but I don't think it's a good idea. I told her that kind of doctor couldn't fix a broken heart. Besides, Emily's almost done with her nursing program and once she starts working I'm sure she'll be much better. Father always says, "An idle mind is not a healthy mind." Guess he's right. Too much time to think has led Em down a scary path.
Edward
Another heart? Wait just a minute. Was it just a coincidence, or were the hearts Evan and I were finding somehow connected to Emily? I wanted to read more, but the clock above the stove said eight o'clock and I needed to get going. Leaving now would give me a lot of time before Mom and Dad came home. Sam'll stay at his friend's house forever because he says they have better food. And for once he'd be totally right. Everybody has tastier food than we do.
So I decided I needed to try another spot to get into the tunnels because the crazy dude had me scared. And I think I knew just the place. There's an old irrigation system called the Zanja which runs through Citrus Grove. Yeah it's really spelled that way, but we pronounce it like Sankey. It was built by the Native Americans in the eighteen hundreds when they lived and grew crops here. We even got to visit it a bunch of times in elementary school during Local History Week every year. We were taught the huge rocks from a nearby river were used by the native people to build it all by hand. Sometimes you can still see parts of the old watering system when you go down the older roads.
Anyway, I'm wondering if there's a connection to the tunnels. Hoping I'll be able to link to the whole tunnel system from the Zanja. Then I can explore recent history and maybe find the ruins of the ancient lizard people. After getting chased in the tunnel, I'm even surer now they exist. Just never thought any of them could still be alive. Were they the real reason why the tunnels were built in the first place? And why does no one seem to know about them except a handful of people who've already died? Again, I wished Pops was still here. Bet he knew the answer.
Chapter Twelve
GUESS I DO HAVE SOME SKILLS
"What?" I answered the phone in a definite not-okay-according-to-Mom kind of way. I'd just put the journal away so I could get to the tunnels and this was one more thing stopping me.
"I'm outside your house." It was Evan. "You ready?"
Ready? "Not sure. What are you talking about?"
Big sigh on the other end, so I knew I'd epically messed up. I could also hear some fa
miliar singing in the background. "Are you with your dad?"
"Well how else are we going to get there?" he yelled and then took a deep breath. "Come on, Kat! How often do I ask you for anything? It's that stupid fundraiser fashion show at my mom's Junior League meeting. Remember? The country club, me and you in those historical costumes?"
Shoot. I'd forgotten all about it. Now there was no way I'd get to the tunnels today. "A reminder would've been nice. You asked me over a month ago!" I wasn't much for calendars, totally the opposite of the General. Except when it came to the tunnels. Or seeing David. A girl needs to have exceptions to every rule.
I heard the car horn so I knew I'd better get out there. "Just give me a sec. I've got to get my shoes on."
Throwing on my boots, I grabbed my backpack and ran out the door. Maybe I could talk him into a visit to the tunnels after we were done. He'll owe me big time because we both know he's fully using me today. Who else was willing to get up on stage and make a fool of themselves?
"Hey, Mr. Evan's dad!" I said through the open passenger window. It's what I'd been calling him since I was little because they had a bunch of Ss in their last name. Fact: It's impossible for a kid who goes to speech therapy to pronounce Schmansinski.
"Good to see you, sweetie."
"Finally," my angry friend said as I climbed in beside him. He had a sour look on his face and I could tell he was super grouchy. "We're going to have to throw that hair of yours up into a hat or wrap a scarf around it."
I touched my head and realized my hair was still wet. Evan's hair was gelled and awesome as usual, and he smelled good. I wasn't about to tell him though. Not when he'd been so grouchy to me. Mom said he's probably just going through puberty and to expect mood swings. Ew.
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