Chapter 13- Deeper into Dark Places
Jake hit the incline of sand and rolled, legs like a pinwheel down to the basement floor of the haunted house. Spitting and brushing away the sand, Chris startled Jake by putting his hands on his back in the darkness.
“You okay, Buddy?”
“Yeah man. You?”
“Just got the air knocked out of me. I wasn’t expecting that at all.”
“You scared the shit out of me. I’m glad you’re alright,” Jake said, not quite ready to get to his feet. “Those things up there took off after me as soon as you fell. So it was, woop, right after you.”
“Really? Looks like they didn’t follow us. I wonder where we are.”
“In fuckin’ trouble is where we are…” Jake said. The disappointment was clear in his voice and it brought Chris down from his excitement of coming out unscathed from the last few minutes. “We lost Donny, we almost lost each other, and now we’re stuck down in the pitch black of the bottom of some stupid funhouse. How the hell are we supposed to stop some maniac killer who has been shooting anyone who tries to stop him when we can’t even get through this place?”
Any comfort that Chris might have came up with was instantaneously forgotten when the booming they had been hearing, leapt upon them without warning. Previously unsure of the layout of their surroundings, a bright orange light erupted from one end of the long basement and began to grow larger. Realizing the orange light was flickering and coming near, rather than growing larger, Jake and Chris jumped to their feet. Now fully realizing they were seeing a fireball streaking towards their position, the boys dodged away from the sand pile, keeping their eyes open to memorize as much of the passageway as they could while the light was on it. The fireball closed the distance and exploded into a spray of sand when it contacted with the wall just behind where the two had dropped down.
“So, that’s why all that sand was piled up there,” Chris observed.
“Well, we might as well get down to that end. I didn’t see any doors or anything on the walls. But, lets feel our way down there just to be sure.
They walked in the darkness, hands skimming along the walls. They were concrete in texture, but felt odd somehow. Chris took his hands away and rubbed his fingers together, noticing the lack of texture of the smooth cold stone. He had expected the usual roughness or chalkiness on his fingers, but got none when he pulled his hands away. It was as if he was running his fingers on cotton t-shirt materiel, but completely solid. It felt slightly disturbing for no particular reason, so he put his shoulder to the wall in order to avoid touching it with his bare skin. He saw a faint light ahead.
A tiny candle burned at the end of the long basement. In the flawless dark, it burned as bright as a sun. “Look at all this,” Jake broke the silence.
An old fashioned cannon stood at the end of the hall, right up against the wall. The teacup candle stood as a rear sight, close to the vent. As they stood and inspected the long solid gun, Chris noticed a bit of fuse pop out of the vent hole. He pointed it out to Jake and the crouched to watch the fuse inch out, growing toward the candle like a plant to the sunlight.
“Lets get out of here before it goes off again.”
“I’m sure it will be a while with how slow that is going, but look over here.
Chris pointed out a small rectangular hole in the base of the back wall, off to his left. It seemed to be a trick to both the boys’ eyes until they got closer and looked at it. The crawl space was painted in diagonals, lighter colors deeper inside to offset the lack of light, effectively camouflaging it from casual observation. “It’s the only thing I’ve seen so far,” Chris said.
Chris got down on his hands and knees, feeling his way deeper into the passageway. “It feels like its going down hill, or it could just be a trick of my mind. The colors are so crazy, I can’t tell…”
Jake joined, putting them both in the tunnel when Chris piped up again. “I think it ends,” Chris panted. “I really can’t tell, it’s getting so dark…”
“Well, check for sure. I can’t imagine the only thing here would be a dead end.”
“I’m sure of it now,” Chris said, dipping his head back behind him. “It is getting smaller. I wasn’t sure at first, but now I definitely am. It’s getting narrower.”
Jake pressed the top of his horizontal back against the top of the passage. He could feel it too. He had never had problems in tight spaces, even once went on his belly thorough a passage in a cave, but this seemed different. It was the concern for whom he was following.
“Stop for a sec, buddy,” Jake said in his most calming voice. “We have got to get to where you think it ends and be sure. I’ve never asked you this, but you don’t get all panicky in tight places, do you?”
“Naw, Naw, uhh… I’ll be okay. I just need to stop for a second,” Chris answered. He took a big breath and made a long noise letting it out, “Never thought you’d be crawling around behind me in some trick house when you woke up this morning.”
“Dude, I can barely remember this morning. This whole thing is weird. Really weird.”
“Alright, I’m only about ten feet away. I’ll just slide down there on my belly and check it out. Wait there.”
Jake watched the form of his friend, now on his side, one arm up and one down, slide himself down to the bottleneck of the tunnel. After a few grunts and squeaks of his shoes on the walls, Chris stopped and laughed.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said to himself. “They used the same trick on the opening, they matched the paint to a sharp right turn. It goes out and… It widens,” He reported back finally. “I see some light.”
“Well, then, squeeze your lop-sided ass through there. I’m not happy with mine hanging out in the wide open of this room.”
Chris struggled himself through the tight turn, contorting his body with his single arm, as the other was pinned beneath his stomach. It was uncomfortable, the way a shoe, laced too tight can be on a hot day, but he popped through and relief spread over him like he it had never happened.
“Put both hands above your head,” Chris called from the other side, “It makes it much easier.”
Heralded by bumps and the sound of dragging clothes, Jakes two arms emerged, closely followed by the young man himself. They were through. Their new surroundings consisted of a square room with tan colored smooth walls. The floor was covered in checkered black and white squares. The tight fitting tunnel came out near one corner of the room and centered on three walls were metal ladders mounted to each wall and extending upwards. On the opposite wall from where the boys emerged was a large sectional wood door. In red letters centered at sight-height was the bold word ‘EXIT.’
Dusting himself off, Jake pointed and went for the door. “There we go!” Chris also turned and followed.
“You might not want to touch that,” a child’s voice froze them in their tracks.
Turning around quickly, backs nearly up against the wall, Jake and Chris looked wide-eye at where they had just come from. Standing there, swinging his arms around like they were floppy noodles was a young boy made of blue light. The cannon on the other side of the tunnel went off.
The child laughed a paranormally loud and encompassing laugh. The boy had short raggedly hair, a red and white striped shirt, very short shorts and white socks under black loafer shoes. Chris was taken back by the specter for more than obviously being a ghost, he had a striking resemblance to himself.
When he finished laughing, he spoke to Jake and Chris in a crisp British accent. “Take another look at the handle. I recon you’d not get far without some gloves.”
They both looked down at the round doorknob and noticed what the child was referring to. Thin needles an inch long extended from the surface, blocking any grip with a sharp point, much like a cactus guarding its fruit. Jake gripped the front of his cotton baseball tee and tried to wrap the cotton around the spikes in an attempt to open the door on his own. The thin needles sunk thr
ough the thin material as if it was tissue paper. It appeared the ghost was right.
“So, kid, any suggestions on where we can find some gloves to open this door, or another way out?”
“I don’t know, I’ve never left!” the boy said sounding happy like it was his birthday. “But, you could go up these ladders!”
The boy sprung up the one that went the highest and stopped half way. “When I finish school, I’m going to be a Navy man, I am! Navy men slide down ladders like this! Weeee!” The ghost slid down the ladder, hands and feet on the outside of the rungs, friction slowing his fall.
“So, which one is it, little dude?” Chris asked.
“Hmmm… That one!” he pointed. “Or no… That one! I can’t remember,” He contradicted himself in defeat. “I haven’t left this room in so long.”
“That’s alright. We will try them all,” Jake consoled him.
“Fair is! I’m going to go play with the cannon!” the boy shouted and ducked into the tunnel. “Just like a Navy man…” The voice trailed off.
“That was really weird, dude,” Jake said when the boy was defiantly gone. “He looked like you.”
“He looked like pictures of my dad from when he was a kid,” Chris said.
“We at least one of us didn’t impale a hand. Which ladder should we try first?”
They settled on the ladder that went highest and began to climb. There were no lights or windows to the outside, but the room was decently lit, as if from nowhere. As they approached the formerly shadowed ceiling, the light continued to follow them and they could see that the other two ladders terminated at inset platforms that had skinny doors leading away. The route they took, though, did not. A wooden hatch was set into the ceiling and the two threw it open, reveling night sky. Jake went through first, followed by Chris.
The two climbed out onto the flat roof of the central portion they had seen from out front. Thin wrought iron railings encompassed the crow’s nest that gave to boys a great view. Past the canyon that the house blocked, onward north in the direction they traveled, they could see for miles. The mountain they had just climbed led out into flat land, the river that fed the waterfall wound away to the west. Small buildings and a smattering of tall ones clustered where the river bent. A very tall building stood to the west of the town, looking like large clock tower. It was comforting to see where they were headed; that there may be people somewhere in this place other than the guide they didn’t know enough about to trust, and now a ghost of an eight year old. After a brief look around, and becoming sure there were to be no thick gloves to help them open that impossible door, Jake and Chris climbed back down the ladder to try the other two options.
“Left or right?”
“I don’t think it matters,” Chris said. “We should look at both, who knows what we might miss.”
Jake laughed. “Just like you are playing a video game, gotta check out every bit of a dungeon. Except when you run into the non-friendly ghosts. Then its just, ‘move outta my way,’ right?”
“You know me too well. Let’s try left.”
Jake again took the ladder first. The climb was half that of the last. It was impossible to tell how many floors they were climbing; the short distance could have been a story and a half or more. The general direction seemed funny here, especially after just getting that topside view, so who was to know the internal layout? When they both stood on the inset landing, it was Jake who motioned Chris to go ahead first. This door was absent of the impossibly sharp needle defense the door below had on its handle, so Chris opened the door fully before either stepped through. The boys braced themselves for a surprise, but found an almost ordinary hallway on the other side.
They ventured inside the hall, dressed similar to the first hall they encountered in the main body of the house, yet the corridor was narrower and the floor was covered in a black hardwood. The door they came through was situated at the right end of this hallway and a big window to let in light. Openings to a great room on the left, forward of where the boys entered, were wide and quite different from the openings to stairwells they had seen. They felt secure enough to forget about the fish.
“I’ll go recon the other end,” Jake said, leaving Chris to the room.
Furniture was covered in white linens, and the ceiling had pressed decorative silver paneling inside a perimeter that was made by crown molding. When Jake walked back in the room, Chris was already staring at the passageway to the attic in the middle of the room. Jake looked up, captivated as well, and gave his report.
“It ends at stairs, like the ones we fell down. What is going on here?”
“I know, it looks like water…”
The square gap where a tile should have gone was emitting light like a fish tank, and the very obvious surface of water wavered.
“That makes no sense,” Jake said walking around the hole, getting a better view of the inside. “It looks to be full of water up there, but if there was a gap in the bottom, water would rush out, not sit there like this was the top or something.”
“Messed up physics…”
“Grab me a chair, I’m going to stick my head up there.”
“Is that the best idea? With our track record so far, there is going to be piranha up there, or something.”
“It’s crystal clear and fully lit. Just a look. I go surfing in the ocean all the time, I’m not afraid of a few little fish.”
With good friends, there is usually little debate, and a high backed padded leather armchair was dragged over. Jake mounted it, placing feet on both armrests and pushed a finger in the water. It was room temp and the surface tension acted just as one would imagine poking water from the top.
“Are you sure about this?”
“There may be something important up here. Now, hold the back.”
Jake heaved himself up, griping the dark wood on either side of the hole. Using the chair back for balance, Jake pulled himself up, held his breath and stuck his head into the water filled attic. Expecting a blur from the distortion of water on his bear eyes, Jake opened them first to a squint. Surprised at the perfect clarity, he opened his eyes all the way and tried his best to look around from the position he was in. The room was well lit, as if from ceiling fluorescents, and looked like the typical house attic. Poorly packed boxes were stacked along the walls, along with some furniture and a workbench. Jake pulled his head down.
“Give my foot a boost, I’m going to go for a swim,” Jake announced to the near empty room.
“Are you sure about that? I don’t know if you should…”
Jake smiled reassuringly down at his partner as he positioned himself for the upward entry. “Don’t worry, Big C. This’ll be no problem. Something in my gut is telling me I need to check this out.”
With one foot on the back of the braced chair and his lead foot poised on Chris’s outstretched arms, Jake pulled himself by either side of the hole and sprung with his legs up into the water. His upper body entered first, braced by locked out arms, and with a few kicks of the legs and the weight reducing properties of water, he slid the rest of the way in. It was suddenly still in the dark room below and Chris turned around to get a better view of the water filled attic.
Jake popped his head back down into the air filled room without delay and took a few deep breaths. “You alright?” Chris asked.
“Dude, that was the strangest feeling ever,” he took a few more breaths. “It’s like I have stuck my upper body down into a pool. But now try to imagine the pool above you, with the gravity the same. This is a total trip!”
“Alright. Now, see what you need to see, it’s creepy down here alone.”
“Gotcha,” Jake said with a grin, took a deep breath and ducked back up into the attic.
Swimming forward in his clothes and shoes Jake began to poke around. The room was a lot smaller that he would have thought, and although the ceiling of the attic was normal height, it seemed short to him underwater. The attic was only twenty feet long
by about eight feet wide and the lights were brightest over the access hatch, casting shadows down to the end of the room. Jake floated around the space as if he was weightless, peaking into boxes and opening desk drawers. Nothing seamed interesting to him except his nagging lungs, so he went for a quick breath.
Drifting down to the far end, a light brown trunk, patterned with white African animals and palm trees, sat on the back wall. A Christmas tree stood on top before Jake knocked it aside. Knowing this was the thing he had came for, Jake manipulated the center latch and opened the lid. Inside, sitting on a pillow padded green tray were a pair of black gloves. Jakes eyes went wide as he kicked to keep himself face-first hovering over his treasure. Looking before touching, the gloves were made of very thin, soft-looking leather, expertly made with many seams, fourchettes and quirks to fit a hand exactly. There was no cuff extending below the palm.