He had found a weather report on TV. The meteorologist stood before an animated map of the Massachusetts coast. Most of the beaches were clear, but the area over Dunwich was covered with snowflakes. “We’ve never seen anything like this,” she was saying. “It’s a very small storm, just ten miles wide, and appears to be stalled over the village of Dunwich. Residents can expect anywhere from forty to even fifty inches of snow before tomorrow morning. I repeat, we’ve never seen anything like this.”
Karina turned to Robert. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
He knew exactly what she was thinking: it was too weird to be a coincidence. If Crawford Tillinghast had the ability to engineer an entire dimension, he certainly could engineer a little snow.
But why?
Why create an enormous snowstorm over the school?
“It’s gotta be global warming,” Mac decided. “It’s causing all kinds of crazy weather. Hurricanes, tsunamis, and now this. When are those stupid politicians going to wake up and realize it?”
On the other side of the office, Mrs. Arthur began shouting into the telephone. “Hello, can you hear me? Are you still there?”
“What’s wrong?” Robert asked.
“Disconnected,” she said, hanging up. “I guess the wires went down. I did manage to reach the police, though. They know we’re here, and they’re going to send a rescue team.”
“Fantastic,” Mac said.
“There’s just one problem,” she added. “They can’t get here until the storm clears. Tomorrow morning at the earliest.”
It took a moment for the news to sink in.
“Are you kidding me?” Lionel exclaimed.
“None of us are happy about this,” Mrs. Arthur said.
“I’m not staying here all night. You need to talk to Chief Russell. He’s friends with my father.”
“I did talk to Chief Russell.”
“He knows I’m here?”
“He knows we’re here. He knows we’re okay.”
“But we’re not okay,” Lionel said. “What are we supposed to eat? Where will we sleep? On the floors?”
Karina rolled her eyes. “You’ll survive.”
If Miss Carcasse was upset by the news, she didn’t show it. She continued staring out the window and occasionally moved her lips, as if whispering to herself.
“Let’s be grateful for the things we do have,” Mrs. Arthur said. “A warm building, basic first aid and supplies, and plenty of food in the cafeteria. There’s even TV and Internet. All things considered, I’d say we’re pretty lucky.”
“Exactly right,” Mac said. “There are plenty of people in worse shape right now. People without shelter or water or heat, people who don’t even have—”
And then, all at once, the TV went dark.
And every light in the office flickered out.
Mrs. Arthur looked to Mac. “Power failure?”
“Impossible,” he said. “The school has a huge generator. If the power goes out, it should turn on automatically.”
Lionel put his hands on his hips. “So now we don’t have Internet? We don’t even have lights?”
“Relax,” Mac said. “If the generator’s broken, I’ll fix it. Everybody stay here until I get back.” He turned to Robert. “But you come with me. I might need someone to give me a hand.”
They left the office and set off down the hallway. Even though the power was out, the corridors weren’t completely dark; every so many feet, illuminated EXIT signs emitted a faint red glow.
“How come those are still working?” Robert asked.
“They have backup batteries,” Mac explained. “Same as the smoke detectors. But they won’t be much help if I can’t fix the generator.”
“I thought you said you could?”
“I said that so people would calm down,” Mac explained. “That substitute? Miss Carcasse? She’s already acting nutty, and your pal Lionel isn’t much better.”
“He’s not my pal.”
Mac raised an eyebrow. “He’s not?”
Robert shrugged. “He only hangs out with kids who live in the Heights. He’s stuck-up that way.”
“Well, a lot of people are,” Mac said.
They stopped in front of a wide door marked FREIGHT/DELIVERIES and Mac reached for his key ring. “Look, there’s something we need to get straight. This business with the ledge. You’re probably wondering why I haven’t told your mother.”
Robert’s stomach flip-flopped. Ever since the collision in the driveway, he’d been waiting for Mac to bring it up.
“She deserves to know,” Mac continued. “But I’ve decided not to tell her until we get out of this mess. We don’t need any extra tension right now. So you can stop worrying, all right?”
“Okay,” Robert said. “Thanks.”
Mac unlocked the door but it wouldn’t budge. “Now get out of my way. Give me some room.” He threw his shoulder against the door; it opened an inch and snow flurries sprayed through the gap. Tall drifts were accumulating outside the building, barricading the exits.
“Is there another way to the generator?” Robert asked.
“Not if we want to get there before dark,” Mac said.
He tried again—he threw all of his weight against the door—but again it barely budged. The gap had widened to three inches, not nearly enough for Mac to squeeze through.
“Let me try,” Robert said.
He turned sideways, wriggled through the opening, and climbed out onto a loading dock. Almost immediately, he was up to his knees in the tall drifts—and more snow was falling fast, piling up against the walls of the building. Robert was glad he’d kept his gloves on. He reached down and swatted snow away from the door, digging with his hands like a dog, until there was just enough of an opening for Mac to push his way out.
Then they both stared out at the parking lot. It was like looking across a vast arctic tundra; penguins and polar bears would have seemed right at home.
“Storm’s getting worse,” Robert said.
“Oh, yeah?” Mac asked. “Are you a weatherman or something?”
“It just looks different. Like it’s getting stronger.”
“Well, we didn’t come to admire the pretty scenery. Let’s get moving.”
They hopped off the loading dock and sank knee-deep in the massive drifts. Robert felt like they were leaving the safety of a beach and wading out into a wild and turbulent sea. He worried he wouldn’t be able to keep up, but Mac slowed his pace so Robert wouldn’t be left behind.
“Don’t you need tools or something?” Robert asked, shouting to be heard over the wind.
“Tools won’t help me,” Mac shouted back. “I don’t know how to fix a generator.”
“Then what are we doing out here?”
“I’m hoping it has a power button. Maybe someone forgot to turn it on.” He reached out and grabbed Robert’s shoulder, pulling him backward. “Careful now, look where you’re walking.”
At their feet was a large hole about the width of a basketball. It seemed to be the opening of a tunnel that burrowed underneath the snow. Robert peered inside but couldn’t see very far; it was like looking down the dark drain of a sink.
“Not so close,” Mac said. “If you fall down that hole, I’m not going to fish you out.”
On the far side of the hole was the generator—a large rectangular box about the size of a railroad car, with slatted vents and long, raking claw marks over the front. The side panel had been peeled back like the lid of a tin can. Frayed bands of wires dangled out of the generator, as if someone or something had bitten clean through them.
Mac whistled through his teeth.
“What happened?” Robert asked.
“I have no idea,” he said. “But I think we better get back inside.”
Mac didn’t tell the others about the strange scratches on the generator; he decided they were the work of a bear, and he didn’t want to cause further panic. He simply explained that the generator was b
eyond repair.
Lionel scowled. “You said you could fix it.”
“You’re welcome to fix it yourself,” Mac said.
“I’m not sticking around,” Lionel assured him. “As soon as my dad gets my voicemails, he’s going to freak out. He’ll charter a dozen snowplows and get me out of here.” He called to Miss Carcasse, who was still perched in front of the window. “Tell me when you see them coming, okay?”
Miss Carcasse didn’t answer. She was studying the view so carefully, she might have been counting the snowflakes.
“Why don’t you lie down?” Mrs. Arthur asked. “Come over to the sofa and take a rest.”
Miss Carcasse turned and smiled. “I’m fine right here,” she said. “It’s like watching a beautiful winter wonderland.” She checked the mysterious gold object again, then returned to the window.
“We’ve got less than two hours until it’s pitch dark,” Mac announced. “Our top priority should be finding a light source.” He unsnapped a large chest marked with a red cross. “This emergency kit has two flashlights and a lantern, but they won’t get us very far.”
No one could think of an alternative, however, until Robert remembered his second-period social studies class. “We’re making beeswax candles with Mrs. Zelley,” he said. “It’s a project on life in colonial America. She’s got dozens of them.”
“Perfect.” Mac turned to Lionel. “Go to Mrs. Zelley’s classroom and bring back all the candles you can carry.”
“Why me?” Lionel asked. “Why can’t Robert do it?”
“Because he and Karina are going to fix the heat. It’s already way too cold in this building.” Mac passed the lantern to Robert; it was a simple battery-operated lamp, the kind you might take on a camping trip. “I want you guys to walk around and close the doors to every classroom. That will insulate the core of the school.”
“Sure, that’s easy,” Robert said.
“Meanwhile, I’ll poke around the school store,” Mac said. “See if they have anything we can use.”
“And I’ll go to the cafeteria,” Mrs. Arthur volunteered. “I can look in the kitchen and start figuring out meals. Miss Carcasse can help me.”
“Excellent,” Mac said. “Let’s all meet there in half an hour.”
Once they’d all gone their separate ways, Robert turned on the lantern, its tiny incandescent bulb flickering to life. It wasn’t very bright—the batteries seemed to be dying—so Robert switched it back off. For now, there was still enough daylight for him and Karina to navigate the hallways. They set off toward the east end of the school. Robert closed the classroom doors while Karina skipped along beside him.
“What are you so excited about?” he asked.
She grinned. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve gone to a slumber party? This is going to be awesome!”
“If we survive,” he said. Robert told her about the strange scratches on the generator and the mysterious tunnel descending into the earth. “Something’s out there in the snow. Something very powerful. And I think Miss Carcasse is looking for it.”
“She’s one of Tillinghast’s creatures?”
“She has to be,” Robert said. “She’s acting weird, she’s walking weird, she even smells weird. That awful perfume? It’s probably masking her true scent.”
Karina nodded. “This day keeps getting stranger and stranger.”
“And it’s not over yet,” Robert said. “Look who’s coming.”
Pip and Squeak were scampering down the hallway, hurrying to meet them. The rats ran straight up Robert’s leg and perched on his shoulder, chattering wildly and gesturing with their tiny arms.
“Calm down,” Robert told them. “What’s wrong?”
Come come see see now quick—
Over the past few months, Robert had become quite good at “hearing” his pets’ thoughts—but because the rats usually communicated simultaneously, their words sometimes echoed in his mind. Often, the messages were hopelessly jumbled.
“One at a time,” Robert said. “Pip first. What is it?”
Follow. Hurry. Bring light.
The rats didn’t wait to see if Robert understood. They simply raced down the hall, and he and Karina had no choice but to hurry after them. They rounded a corner and ran straight through a snowdrift—a large mound of slush piled high in the center of the hall. Robert’s legs went out from under him. He fell on his back, landing hard on the slick wet floor.
“Are you all right?” Karina asked. She reached out to help, and her hand passed through his elbow, chilling the joint like a blast of ice water.
Robert rubbed the back of his head. All around him, the air was filled with snowflakes, a miniature micro-blizzard right in the middle of the hallway. “I think I’m seeing things,” he said. “It looks like it’s snowing indoors.”
“It is snowing indoors,” she told him. Robert sat up and snowflakes settled on his hair and shoulders, but they passed through Karina as if she wasn’t even there. “It’s coming from the chemistry lab.”
They passed through the open doorway and it felt like they were stepping outside. The Periodic Table of Elements was covered with frost. The lab counters, chairs, and sinks were buried beneath inches of snow. And all the large windows were shattered. Shards of glass were piled at the edge of the classroom, as if something had crashed through from the outside.
Robert turned to his pets. “Did the storm do this?”
No, no, this was the Old Ones.
The words sounded familiar to Robert; over the past few months, he had heard Professor Goyle, the Price sisters, and Howard Mergler speak with awe and admiration of the great Old Ones. But who were they?
Pip and Squeak led him and Karina to the windowsill and crawled outside, leading them to the edge of a large round hole. It looked just like the passage Robert had seen near the generator—except this one was bigger, as if an even larger creature had come through it.
Robert knelt beside his pets and lowered his voice to a whisper, in case whatever built the tunnel might still be lurking nearby. “Did the Old Ones come out of this tunnel? Are they inside the school?”
Not yet. Not ready yet. Too warm.
Pip and Squeak scampered inside the tunnel and looked back at Robert and Karina, expecting them to follow.
“No way,” Robert said. “Not a chance. The last time we crawled into a tunnel, I ended up in a Dumpster full of larvae.”
He was referring to an incident three months ago, when Pip and Squeak had vanished inside the school’s ventilation system, and Robert, Glenn, and Karina had to crawl into the ducts to retrieve them.
“You don’t have to worry about bugs,” Karina assured him. “They can’t survive in the cold. Whatever made this tunnel is definitely a warm-blooded mammal.”
“And big enough to break all these windows,” Robert said. “I don’t need to go chasing after it.”
Pip and Squeak plunged deeper into the passage, their long pink tail trailing behind them. Robert peered inside the opening and choked on the odor. It smelled like the guinea pig cage in the library.
“Can you see anything?” Karina asked.
Robert switched on the lantern and held it inside the tunnel. Bits of dirt and debris were embedded in the packed snow, as if something unclean had recently passed through.
“Let’s take a quick look,” Karina said. “If we see anything dangerous, we’ll turn around and come right back.”
“That’s what Glenn said this morning,” Robert told her. “That’s how I ended up on a ledge forty feet above the ground.”
Still, he got down on his hands and knees and crawled in, anyway. Robert quickly realized that the passage wasn’t simply traveling beneath the snow; it was descending into the ground, through a tunnel that someone or something had burrowed into the earth. As they crawled along, the passage expanded, until it was tall enough for Robert and Karina to stand.
“What is this place?” Karina whispered. Her voice echoed throughout
the tunnel. Clusters of icicles hung from the ceiling like stalactites. Ahead of them, icy stone steps descended into darkness.
“I have no idea,” Robert replied. He had never heard of an underground cavern anywhere in the village of Dunwich. And yet this space seemed like it had existed for centuries. Robert snapped a small icicle from the ceiling and tossed it down the stairs; it disappeared into the gaping black void without making a sound.
“You really want to go down there?” Karina asked.
“No,” Robert said, “but if Pip and Squeak think it’s important, we should.”
He moved cautiously from one step to the next, descending lower into the abyss, arms outstretched to keep his balance. His worn-out sneakers had terrible traction, and he knew one false move would send him tumbling all the way down.
“Glenn is going to be sorry he went home,” Karina said.
Robert laughed. “Right now Glenn is sitting in a warm room watching television. Getting on that bus is the smartest thing he ever did.”
“Well, I’m glad you stuck around,” she said. “This is a lot more fun than babysitting your rats.”
Robert stepped on something that felt like a bundle of sticks. “Watch out!”
At their feet was a human skeleton, sprawled across several of the steps, as if the person had died while attempting to climb out.
“Yikes,” Karina said. “What happened to that guy?”
A small leather satchel hung from the skeleton’s shoulder. Robert reached into a pocket and pulled out a faded identification card: DR. WILLIAM DYER, it read. PROFESSOR OF GEOLOGY, MISKATONIC UNIVERSITY EXPLORERS’ SOCIETY. FEBRUARY 1936.
Robert showed the card to Pip and Squeak. “This is what you wanted me to see?”
No, no, keep going—
“What’d they say?” Karina asked.
“They keep saying it’s fine,” Robert said. “But after meeting Professor Dyer, I’m finding it hard to believe them.”
They continued their descent, venturing lower and lower into the earth, and the unpleasant smell grew ever more pungent. Eventually the steps ended and the passage widened into an enormous cavern, much too big for the lantern to fully illuminate. Pip and Squeak ran up Robert’s chest and plunged into the hood of his jacket, as if they had no intention of walking any farther on their own.
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