The Underworld - Part 3

I rolled my car gently up onto the gravel border outside the entrance to Rachel’s driveway. It’s a little tough to be quiet in a diesel VW Rabbit - one reason that my ride was usually last choice for any clandestine operations. Fortunately her house sat back in the woods, at the end of a quarter mile driveway. The luminescent dial on dash read just after 11:30, and Rachel immediately popped out from behind a cluster of pines. She creaked open the rusty passenger side door and plunked down into the bucket seat.

"You’re late, Roy Boy," smacking my right thigh with enough emphasis to send shivers up and down my spine.

"Two minutes, Roach. The school’s still gonna be there. Hey, girl – tell it to me straight. Are we going to end up in jail tonight?"

"No way. Well, I can say with 100% certainty that I won’t anyway. I can play that ‘first offense’ card. You know – ‘those mischief-loving boys talked me into it’."

"I think that Eddie’s card."

"Yeah, you’re right. They’ll have to torture me to get anything from these tight lips. Come on, what’re you waiting for? My dad to come out with a shotgun? He’ll think we’re getting it on!"

Fortunately the car was dark enough that I don’t think she could appreciate the scarlet hew of my features as I turned the car back onto Fruitport Road, almost stalling it as I pulled out. Five minutes later, I killed the sputtering engine on Lake Street behind Stan’s Cutlass Salon. I grabbed the duffel bag and we set out in the shadows to reach the rendezvous point.

Although the building was well lit from the front, there were only a few scattered dingy yellow bulbs in the back, and it was relatively easy to keep to the darker areas. I caught a flicker of movement along the brick wall as we approached, and the other guys emerged to huddle behind the dumpsters.

"Sweet," Eddie hissed. He had smeared some black stuff under his eyes – very stealth. He looked like a John Elway wannabe. If Elway stopped practicing and had been smoking bud for a couple years. "Everyone in?"

I glanced at Stan. "Nope. I’m not going in. I’ll keep a lookout, but if the cops come, I’m out of here and you guys figure it out."

"What’s the point, Stoner?" Chad sneered Stan’s most hated nickname the way only a brother could do. "Why’d you even come just to hang out with the trash out here?"

A profanity laden argument ensued, with a gradual and predictable increase in volume until Rachel stepped in and refocused us on finding an open door. The first few attempted were secured tight. The third however gave a few inches to a pull before an iron chain arrested our entry. There was a gap between the double doors and the cement ground and I dropped to my knees, and then my back. Scooting myself up underneath, I directed the flashlight’s eye into the dark gym.

"We got a wee-ner!" With the other guys pulling out on the doors, I was able to scoot on my back underneath on the rough ground until my torso was inside. Sitting up, pulling my legs through was relatively easy. Soon the four of us were all in.

"Come on Stan, you fuckin’ loser - get in here," I whispered to the other side of the door.

Muffled cursing followed, but as expected his tangled hair and squinting eyes soon revealed themselves to our torches. Stan was the biggest of our lot standing 6’2" and struggled to get through. While he grunted and Chad and Eddie tugged, my brain returned to me. I walked under the dark basketball hoop and put my shoulder into one of the adjacent doors which wasn’t chained. It opened from the inside easily.

More cursing resulted, and a reversal of direction, but eventually all five of us were inside. Eddie was limping.

"What’s wrong with you?"

"I think I pulled my hamstring or something, trying to pull Stan. Damn, that hurts," he hobbled around trying to stretch out the muscle.

"Well, let’s get it on - I don’t want to screw around in here." I grabbed the gear and we headed out in the main hall, Stan and Eddie bringing up the rear. Each classroom seemed to be locked up tight though, and we quickly fanned out and covered the main hall, the junior high, the science labs, the art rooms, the teacher’s lounges – nothing. Finally we were back where we started.

"What about the Home Ec rooms?" Rachel suggested. These were in the back of the school, an area none of frequented. And it turned out to be the key - one of the doors had a loose lock and swung inward easily with a little pressure.

Home Ec in itself was uncharted territory. The beam of the flashlight lit up a maze of silent sewing machine modified desks to the right. To the left were a group of kitchenettes in the adjacent room. None of us took Home Ec classes and we looked around tentatively - were there even trapdoors in here? The ground was covered in a patchwork of threadbare 70’s carpet, unlike every other classroom in the school which was tiled. It must have been some attempt to make the place feel more "homey". It wasn’t tacked down, and we panned out, peeling up swatches in different places, looking for an opening.

"Keep the lights down!" hissed Eddie for what seemed like the tenth time. The bank of windows faced out in the direction of the practice football fields as well, and I hoped that no one was out that way at 2am, because flashing lights in the Home Ec rooms would certainly be suspicious. My heart was pounding, but I tried to be methodical. It was much tougher to see due to the level of grime underneath the carpets - it looked like they hadn’t been moved for years.

"Over here, over here!" came the harsh whisper from the sewing side. Chad had pulled back two large squares, revealing the outline of one foot square carved piece of tile. There was no handle and its grey edges were flush with the filthy floor surrounding it. I extracted a screwdriver from the duffel and Chad set to work. I had visions of "Raiders of the Lost Ark" as he worked the instrument back and forth along the edge, trying to loosen. It resisted mightily, trying to keep its secrets sealed from us. Eventually there was a faint creak followed by the pressure of a pop. A small cloud of grey dust mushroomed up, scattering fine particulate matter skyward through the beam of the flashlight. We grabbed at the edges and wrestling the heavy door off to the side.

"We’re in, we’re in!" Eddie croaked. The flashlight revealed a few corroded iron bars of the top of a ladder leading downwards into the pitch black. A few cockroaches scurried confusedly away from the illumination.

"No rats at least, so far," I remarked and grabbed my duffel. Chad was already descending.

"They’re waiting to greet us at the bottom," Rachel grunted, throwing her legs into the hole. "Waiting to greet you, Stan with furry little rat kisses."

"I can’t do it," he whispered.

"Yes, you can, you wuss. Don’t play this game again, man." I looked down at the top of Rachel’s orange head reflecting back at me from the pitch below. I started down the ladder next, grasping the wet rusty rungs and moving slowly – who knows how far of a drop it was.

"No, I can’t, I’m telling you. I didn’t know it would be so small. I can’t go into that."

"What are you claustrophobic?" Eddie winced as he moved into descent position.

"I just can’t do it. I’m bigger - I’m the one who’s gonna get stuck down there. No fucking way."

"You fuckin’ little skirt. Oh shit, this hurts like hell, and I’m going down," Eddie was unsteady, fumbling for the next rung halfway down. "Rachel, shut your ears. Stoner, finish your whining and your douching up there, strap on a pair and be a man for once in your life. We’re all tired of - fuck!"

Eddie lost his grip and went straight down. We heard his expletive from below, just before he crashed into my flank and rolled off onto the grimy floor.

"Fuck, my ankle, my ankle!" he grabbed at his leg and rolled in the muck. The three gathered around him. The room we were in was big enough to crouch though not stand up. We were actually only 15 feet or so below the ground but Eddie had turned his ankle badly.

"Is it broken?" I asked.

"I don’t know. Maybe? It hurts like hell, ow!" We trained our lights on his leg, and as best I could tell, there was no bone sticking out the side of his leg.

"Can you walk on it?"

"I don’t think so, hang on," he massaged it for a minute. We tried to pull him to his feet but even minimal weight bearing brought another squeak of pain. "No way."

I sighed, "We gotta abort." I shined the light in a slow 360 arch around us. There were three passages from this chamber - two that looked crawl-able to the west and east, a larger main hallway left to the south. The rumors were true - there was a whole underground world down here.

Chad returned from a few steps down the main hall, "It looks like it branches up there in 100 feet or so. Eddie, maybe you could just chill here and nurse your ankle for a few while we explore."

"Dude, I just got to get out of here now. You guys start poking around and you won’t come back."

"We’re not leaving you, gimpy," Rachel reassured. "Chad, forgot it - we’ll have to come back a different day. Abort is right - it’s gonna be tough enough getting him outta here."

"Stan!" I cupped my hands and called up. "Stan! Where are you?"

There was what seemed like a long pause, and then I saw the silhouette of his head outlined in the square of less-gloom above.

"You guys gotta keep it down – a car just drove by the back of the school," he whispered. "How bad is his ankle?"

"Bad enough I think," I replied. "We’re going to need you to help haul him up with us boosting." Chad and I had moved Eddie back underneath the ladder, and he was pulling himself up the slippery rungs.

"OK, ok – just hurry the fuck up. We need to be out of here yesterday." I could see Stan’s arm reaching down ready to grope for Eddie when he was in range.

The next few minutes were a blur. There was a distant bump - almost more felt than heard followed by a gasp from Stan. I glanced up from my crouch trying to push Eddie skyward and the square of relative light was again empty above us. The four of us were frozen now, petrified by the heavy silence. It seemed like forever, the sweat dripping down my forehead - not wanting to move or breathe - not wanting to reveal ourselves to whatever was happening above. Finally some far off scratching noises - maybe the rats have found us - and a louder scrape. The square becomes a smaller rectangle, then a slit and the light disappears completely with a soft thud.

What the hell happened? Stan may be wimpy at times, but he wouldn’t leave us down here, especially if he knew Eddie was hurt. Chad and I struggled to lower Eddie to the ground and the three of us lie there after in the dirt, panting.

"Well you guys wanted an adventure," observed Rachel’s voice from the other corner of the room.

"There must be someone else up there - my bro wouldn’t bail unless he had to," Chad answered. "We just gotta wait it out until things cool down. He’ll be back. I don’t think we’ll be able to move that door from below. In the meantime, we might as well look around, right?" He didn’t seem at all perturbed by the state of affairs.

"You guys are going to leave me, here! You can’t!" Eddie’s normally petulant voice had taken on a tone of desperation. I didn’t blame him - this suddenly did feel like a very small dark place, and I wouldn’t want to be left alone, wounded and immobile either.

"Settle down, dude. We’re not leaving you." I took a closer look at his ankle, and it did look pretty swollen and discolored even in this dim light. After a brief debate, we decided to take the large passage first - it’ll be easiest to negotiate with Eddie between Chad and me. Rachel will scout ahead, make sure the footing is safe.

"Hold on, take some of this," Chad rummaged in his pack and pulled out a plastic water bottle. "It’ll kill some of the pain."

Eddie looked dubious, but took a long draw nonetheless. "Don’t know if this is the right time for your tea, but maybe it’ll take the edge off."

"Roachie?"

She shrugged and took a couple gulps before passing it to me. "What is it?" I squinted at the black fluid and the debris floating in it.

"Chad’s Chai – drink up, Roy Boy."

I just cannot understand why you always make such poor decisions – her words echoed in my mind as I twisted open the cap. Was it the thrill seeking sense of adventure? Was it the anxiety of potentially being enclosed in this tomb? Was it her feline green eyes on me, daring me on? Probably all of the above. The liquid rolled bitterly past my tongue, and I gagged when it hit my soft palate. Never in my life have I tasted anything so foul and biting. I did sputter down a few gulps before handing it by Chad.

"Nectar of the gods, my man," he clapped me on the back and helps himself to a long smooth draught.