Escape (Chronicles of Hart) (6 page)

MUSEUM

“Well, you`re the expert, where is the
secret
door?” Walt asked Steve sarcastically as they reached the stone wall for the second time that day. He held his light up in anticipation of sudden movement, disappointed that the wall seemed quite ordinary. Maybe Hart
didn`t
know what he was talking about.

“Find the dial and I’ll show you.” Steve stood back cockily waiting for Walt to get to work.

Walt held his flashlight up to the wall and after a few moments Steve began to look. Shooting Walt looks over his shoulder that asked why he was always left with the grunt work. He had put his light back in his belt to conserve batteries. Steve looked the wall up and down with the movement of Walt’s flashlight until he saw an anomaly in the stonework sticking out just slightly against the grain of the mortar. A small dial, surrounded by several numbers etched into the stone itself. It would have been hard to see with their light and impossible without one, which meant Grace and her companion had somehow gotten their hands on supplies even after they had frisked the boy down.

“Here
.” Steve quipped as his fingers found the dial. Twisting slowly he paused on the number one with a slow scraping.

“Now what? Are there magic words?” Walt joked, as they waited for a door to appear. Steve looked disappointed that it hadn’t appeared somewhere in the wall. He pulled out his own flashlight, looking at the surrounding area for any subtle changes that he might have missed. The floor hadn’t sunk in anywhere and the walls still looked the same. Turning back to Walt at the stone wall, he tucked his light back away.

“That’s all it said,” he mumbled disappointed at the results “three dials, three devices, and a code: one, seven, nine, three, five and two. It should have worked” he looked closely at the dial, tracing the numbers etched into the wall with his finger.

“Are you sure it’s on the one and not just near it?” asked Walt considering something for a moment while Steve checked the dial “Or maybe the one was for that sinkhole
.” he observed, remembering how the floor of the cellar had sunken into a ramp that led them into this trap.

Steve jiggled the lock a couple of times, turning it to the seven position to test Walt’s theory. He paused, hand hovering, waiting for the lock to do something wonderful. Nothing happened. Frustrated, he smacked the lock knocking it in.

“Grrr, stupid piece of junk,” he roared into the empty tunnel reaching for the map in his pocket.

The lock clicked in as he hit it. Then the wall began to rise.

***

“It’s another storage room
.” Grace noted, as she and Ethan took in their new surroundings above the alcove of stone.

“Must be deep storage, the locks only work one way
,” he reminded her, looking around for good measure. He was curious of what would be stored in such an unconventional place, almost like an afterthought.

“Maybe they lived here,” she joked looking around at all the clutter piled against the walls “the cave people
,” she whispered ominously into the dark, chuckling at the thought of someone living in worse conditions than those she had come from.

Ethan chuckled overjoyed to hear her laughing.

They walked together shivering from the dampness of their clothing and dripping onto the piles as they stepped over them. As they wound through a short tunnel Grace noticed that is was lined with boxes, brimming with damp disintegrating parchment. Pages stacked in clumps, blocking the path as they decayed. The smell was stifling, rot and mould mingling in the air. Grace was starting to feel dizzy from all the stale air in the tunnels. It had been hours since she had breathed in fresh air through the tower window, she thought of her own escape route and how she could have been at the police station by now. Grace reached for a leaf of parchment, curious of the hidden quantity of paper stacked so hazardously along the short hallway at the centre of the underground road that only led one direction. Scrawls of names and dates lined the crumbling wet page printed in old ink, large and delicate. It appeared to be lists of those who had passed through the tunnels over the years. Grace looked around in awe at the piles of disintegrating parchment, likely all covered in names and dates marking the passage of time through the dank walls that surrounded them. The page crumbled as her hand shook from the chill that was seeping through her bones as the dampness of her clothing and the slight breeze started her shaking and chattering. Soon she was left holding only a corner and Ethan was calling to her to catch up. She raced ahead staying close as he wrapped his arm around her for warmth. He was shaking from the chill nearly as much as she.

The passage quickly ended with a small room lined with shelves of books.
This is going to take a while
, Grace thought to herself while looking at the scene before her in shock and shivering to the bones under Ethan’s arm. He held her closer, rubbing his hand over her arm in a sad attempt to bring some warmth back into her skin.

The library towered over them, nearly twelve feet of thickly lined bookshelves emitting an earthly smell of knowledge into its sealed chamber. The floor was littered with discarded pages and book covers sprawled out spread eagle. It gave the impression that someone was in the middle of some sort of research and had to leave abruptly, leaving remnants of notes tossed across the space.  The otherwise grand library had a look of clutter and neglect. Brass candleholders clung with cobwebs against the walls and bookshelves intermittently. A rotting ladder rose from the depths of a mound of discarded books towards the cathedral ceiling, now crumbling in patches of black mould and cracked plaster. Three walls of treasures lost to the outside world, the sight was overwhelming to Grace.

***

Back in the tunnels the guards had passed the first checkpoint. Quickening their pace with excitement, they wound steadily through the second section, slowing only briefly so Steve could help Walt over the mounds of debris piled up. The path was strenuous on him in his middle age. His joints creaked at the dampness of the pathway like an expectant storm was coming in. He walked stiffly trying to hold his tongue at the pain in his knees. Steve was bearing no better against the underground elements. His skin was slick with sweat and heat rashes had begun spreading down his back and arms making him itchy in his overheated state. The night was quickly passing, Walt was starving. He stopped and reached into his pockets, searching.

“Here.” Steve stopped as Walt pressed something into his hand, “my emergency stash,” he joked through a large bite of something out of his own hand.

Steve looked at his hand, smiling. Walt had handed him a granola bar. Steve was glad for once that Walt had an insatiable appetite. After years of Walt sneaking into his own lunch bag and stealing bites of his sandwich and drinking up the protein shakes they were supposed to be feeding to their prisoner, he had finally pulled through in a bind. He was finally willing to part with his precious food to provide his partner with sustenance to get them out of these tunnels alive, Steve was touched. He unwrapped the bar, bringing it up into the air in a toast.

“Split it?” Steve asked, watching Walt’s greedy eyes as he devoured the last bite of his own bar, licking his fingers with satisfaction.

“Nope, I got three. We’ll save one for later
.” Walt confessed seeming smugly proud of himself for making such a diminutive sacrifice, Steve nodded accepting the small offer.

Steve leaned against the wall, sinking in to the slick soft wood of the pillar behind him. He and Walt silently enjoyed a break in the dark tunnels until his radio beeped, coming to life on his belt with a series of flashes and clicks.

“Do you have them yet?” The raspy voice of their boss echoed against the tunnel walls. Steve looked to Walt with horror. Not only had Hart sent them straight to hell for his little prisoner, but now he was demanding speed in the treacherous conditions below ground. It was like working for the devil himself. Steve slowly removed the radio from his belt, holding it an arms distance from his face.

“What do we tell him?” He asked as fear washed over his face; making him even paler in the blue glow of their LED flashlight.

“I’ll get this one.” Walt responded, taking Steve’s radio from his shaking hands.  The static cleared as he pressed the intercom, “Sir, we are hot on their trail. Over,”  He spoke in a professionally monotone voice, wincing at the thought of Hart’s displeasure.

“Hurry
.” the voice demanded. With a click the signal went dead.

“We’re dead
.” Steve whispered in a hollow tone.

Walt nodded, frowning, as they both turned forward and started through the maze once again.

***

Grace and Ethan sifted through the shelves of books, each starting on opposite sides. They were about to pass one another and still no dial or device had been found. They hadn’t a clue what they were even looking for in the towering library of lost literature. They had been in the tunnels for over eight hours now and Grace could feel from her exhaustion that they were well into the early morning hours. She stopped as Ethan reached for the same book as her.

“We should rest,” she said touching his hand on the bookshelf.

“I know
.”

He took her hand and stopped to look her in the eyes. Noting how her face, even in this dim light, had changed over the years. She looked pale to him, like she hadn’t seen the sun since that day in front of the school. She probably didn’t even know that he had been standing there, waiting to give her a flower, when the men took her and dragged her away. He hadn’t fought them he had hidden behind the tree and waited for help that never came; like a coward. He frowned, guilt welling up in him, guilt that had been eating away at him for ten years.

Ethan led Grace to a pile of books, covered in loose pages. It was far from the entrance and the light breeze didn’t reach the alcove, making it seem warmer. “You rest and then we will continue on,” He said bravely, turning to the bookshelf to continue his search as Grace sat down on the pile testing it for uncomfortable protrusions.

“No
.” Grace said, grabbing for his leg. “We both rest, we’re safe. Finally.” she pulled Ethan back towards her, gently tugging to sit him down on the heap of manuscripts beside her.

The musty books reminded Grace of the study Ethan’s father had let them explore as children. They had poured through his encyclopaedias, learning about the world one picture at a time thinking they were so well educated to be holding the leather bound volumes in their tiny hands like grown-ups. She looked to Ethan, grown to look more like his father over the years than she could ever have imagined, “How long did you believe I was dead?” she asked softly, thinking back to the image of an eleven year old Ethan weeping by her open grave clutching daisies from their secret garden while they wilted in his trembling hands. She shook violently holding back her tears as she shivered. He wrapped his arms around her snugly.

“Until Jerry and I got the letter.” He looked distressed. She could sense the tension in his arms as they broached a topic that was probably difficult for him to think about. “Three, maybe four months ago.” he frowned at the recollection “I felt awful for not coming sooner, but I needed to be sure it was really you, and...” he paused looking ashamed “I needed help.”

Jerry had been the Evan’s butler and a dear friend of Grace and Ethan. As children they had spent days and weeks alone at the Evan’s estate with only Jerry for company. Since both Grace and Ethan’s mothers had passed and their fathers worked so strenuously, Jerry had been the only real family either had known.

Grace felt a tug at her chest, “How is Jerry?” she whispered, afraid of how Ethan would answer as he loosened his hold on her.

“Retired
.” Ethan smiled, poking Grace in the arm playfully, knowing she had been worried about asking, “plays golf all day now, he stuck by after my dad died, adopted me.” Grace was relieved to hear that Jerry was well. She clutched at Ethan’s hand happy that they had at least had each other over the passing years.

“I’ve missed you.” She whispered into the dark as Ethan flicked out the flashlight to conserve the batteries “And I’m sorry you had to go through so much, I’m glad Jerry was there
.” she snuggled into Ethan feeling protective of his childhood pain as her drowsiness caught up with her.

“Don’t be.” He said, brushing her matted hair from her forehead. “You had no one. I can’t imagine how that felt
.”

Grace and Ethan huddled closer, stifling off the cold damp air of the decaying book room. For a few more moments Ethan continued to mumble while Grace fell into a sleeping daze. With a kiss on her forehead Ethan whispered, “I love you
.” into the hollow night, before drifting off holding Grace close to his heart.

CHASE

The stonework floor was built in patches, interspersed with sections of gravel that caught Steve off guard. The stone slipped under his feet, sending him reeling when the gravel caught his boots a step later. The walls decayed at his touch when he reached for support. It was like being stuck in the labyrinth from hell he thought, tugging a metal candle hook down on himself. The whole place felt like a trap made of quicksand. Walt was having less luck. Being a bigger guy, the piles of collapsed stone were proving a daunting obstacle for him to overcome. His feet sunk in farther to the muck puddles that were deeper than they looked. More than once he had needed help retrieving his foot from an awkward predicament. With the help of Steve they remained moving forward, albeit slowly. The tunnel came to an end at a mound of rocks piled up leading to a grate of sorts, draped across an opening in the ceiling. Walt flashed his light across the area, slowing down so Steve could help him look for the dial. After a few tries they spotted the rusted knob sticking out of the metal grate. Pieces of rust had been chipped off, recently, at least they knew that Grace and her companion were still down here and hadn’t discovered a secret way back to the surface yet. Walt reached forward taking the dial and giving it a difficult turn to reach the nine. He gave it a sharp tap letting the grate shake debris off onto his hair and shoulders as it clicked into motion, falling slowly into a short ladder up.

They then entered the smallest tunnel Walt had ever seen. It had grown small to the point of restricting.  He could barely squeeze his large midsection through parts of the tunnel, slowing their pace to a turtles speed. Walt’s belt buckle scraped along the stones with a sickening grinding noise. Steve had taken the duffle bag and was pushing it in front. Steve was having little trouble, save the squished part, navigating through the opening.

“Go ahead
.” Walt huffed, as Steve stopped ahead of him in the tunnel waiting. “Wait for me at the end. Yell back when it gets bigger,” He wheezed, coughing loudly as his head knocked against the top of the tunnel tapping a stone loose onto his back. He flinched at the pain, hoping that nothing else fell on him and he hadn’t collapsed the tunnel by bumping its delicate framework with his head.

“I’ll let you know when it gets easier
,” Steve agreed, worried about his co-worker and long-time friend. He scooted ahead shuffling quicker through the small opening.  Soon the tunnel became more passable and he quickly popped out into the opening ahead landing on his shoulders as he rolled across the stone floor to catch himself. He hadn’t expected the tunnel to end so abruptly. “Hey,” he called back with excitement “You’re almost there!”

“Keep talking.” Walt groaned from inside the tunnel. The scraping sounds grew closer, echoing against the walls while Steve waited for him in the anteroom.

Steve thought for a minute. He wanted to encourage Walt to pull himself through without making him think too hard. He worried that the stress was already too much on him, “Did I tell you I bet on that Titans game last night? I won fifty bucks on it.” He chuckled to himself knowing that he had picked the right topic when he heard Walt grumble through the tunnel.

***

Four more men had arrived at the church. The first group of only two had already searched the cellar and main floor extensively. The six then split into two groups of three and separated. One group headed up for the tower, the other for the invaders point of entry; the wall.

The first crew trudged up the winding stairs, their heavy feet loud against the warped wooden floorboards that creaked in protest. They followed their captain Roy Mulligan, who had been one of the first two to arrive on the scene. Mulligan was usually on switch shifts with the guys, he was a ground level guard. Mostly because he didn’t want to go anywhere near the girl, she gave him the willies. Who would need to be locked up all alone like that, unless they were very dangerous? He had heard stories about that girl from some of the older guards that had since retired. Story was she was a bad seed, a killer, that’s why she needed to be kept alone and guarded twenty four seven by a team. Look at what she had accomplished today; they were saying she had nearly killed Steve on her way out of the confines of her tower. He kept his men between himself and the door, just in case she was lurking somewhere near.

“Boys, this is a tricky one,” He announced, preparing to tell them the back story Hart had arranged. Knowing which information was vital and what was important enough to be kept under wraps was part of his training as the first on the scene. “Prisoner escaped, looks like it had outside help. You see anything suspicious, report it to me. Got it?”

“Yes sir
.” replied the two in unison, staring at their commanders back.
Perfect,
thought Mulligan. Now they would do all the work for him and never have to know about the psycho lady that was kept at bay in the tower. They would sleep soundly tonight thinking they had helped while he had nightmares of a scraggly red-head killing him in his sleep and burying him in the woods.

Reaching the top of the stairs Mulligan paused on the landing, turning to look directly at his two officers.

“Welcome to the tower,” He grinned menacingly as he swung the door open, stepping aside to let his minions in to the cave of the beast.

Within seconds his men had made a discovery. A string of sheets dangled precariously out of the tower window, tied to a bedpost. The pane of tempered glass lay across the room propped against the wall. Mulligan pulled his radio out to notify the other team. He knew this girl was dangerous. He looked around shiftily, hoping she wasn’t near. He didn’t want her to see him. He didn’t want to be her next target.

***

Walt squeezed out of the opening finally, like toothpaste escaping the tube. His breaths were coming out ragged and laboured as he picked himself up off of the floor. Steve pulled a bottle of water out of the duffle, handing it to Walt encouragingly.

“Let’s rest for a minute, this isn’t a race,” He sat to take a bottle of water for himself.

“Thanks
,” Walt huffed through heaving gasps. He drank desperately from the bottle, hands shaking. Sinking to the ground, he and Steve sat exhausted, dripping sweat and stuck in a hole leading them to nowhere. With both flashlights flaring across the small space the two could see the room quite clearly. The floor was damp and a drip from the ceiling left the room with a constant echoing,
plink,
as it hit the stones below. No puddle on the floor meant it was draining somewhere and Walt was willing to bet that was where the exit would be. The map had indicated a number three, but neither one could muster up enough energy to continue searching beyond their wide eyed stares around at the room. It was hard to admit that albeit boring, their cushy jobs had made them soft over the past five years. Normally at this hour they were both indulging in a round of naps outside the tower door after a game of cards.

***

The second crew was walking the perimeter outside the churchyard to the spot where the boy had ventured over the wall the evening before. They paused for a moment at the base of the wall, taking note of the rope coiled on the ground. Looking towards the forest where he had come from. They began back tracking as the sun came up, bringing light to a new day.

A radio buzzed on his belt as his crew tailed behind him on the path “Colt. Check the perimeter, the prisoner may have escaped out the window. Over.” Looking back to the church, Colt now saw in the rising dawn a string of sheets trailing in the gentle breeze from the back window of
the tower. It was like Rapunzel herself was standing at the window letting her hair blow gently in the morning breeze.
Smart
, he thought, it would not have been visible from the front. Pulling out his radio, he responded;

“Checking the perimeter, over.” He looked to his team and with a nod, they scattered. Colt stood by for an extra moment, looking at the tower with wonder. If she had taken the sheet rope down and out then she was probably long gone by now. Was the intruder her distraction, or just a lucky break? Colt was sure Hart had already weighed these options when he arrived on the scene. His level of agitation had led Colt to believe that the intruder was looking for the girl. But how could she have planned this while locked in a tower thirty feet up and with no contact with the outside world?

***

Mulligan approached Mr. Hart on the main floor tentatively. He was sitting peacefully at the security desk. He looked up menacingly as Mulligan approached. Mr. Hart was a stern man, set in his ways and Mulligan had learned over the years that he had to be approached in the right manner, no matter what the context or you were likely to lose your fingers. In some more severe cases even a hand or two had been lost at the rage of Hart.

“Sir,” Mulligan began, boldly to cover his fear. “She may have escaped the tower on her own, the window was tampered with,” He continued, standing stiffly with his hands grasped behind his back , palms sweaty, “Colt and his crew are scouring the grounds for signs.” He tilted his head to the ground, waiting for the inevitable blast that always came after giving Mr. Hart news that he did not want to hear.

“How could you have missed that?” Mr. Hart demanded in an even tone that terrified Milligan more than the usual rage he had been expecting.

“It was well concealed...” Mulligan ventured, knowing he was caught in a lie. He looked up hoping to redeem himself, straight into the barrel of a gun.

Mr. Hart had moved soundlessly. The gun shot resonated through the church bringing Mulligan’s team through the door, just in time for them to see his body hit the floor.

Mr. Hart sat at the desk, looking up long enough to demand that his men move “faster.” He grimaced at the two remaining soldiers as they dragged Mulligan from the room leaving a bloodied trail leading out the front doors.

CLOSER

Walt and Steve had finished off the first two waters. Sitting on the cold stone floor, they had looked around the room twice from their spots, too lethargic to get up. Setting down the light for a moment, Walt noticed something on the floor etched into the stonework “Hey, flash that here,” He asked Steve as he stood from the floor walking to the strange marked stone.

“Okay
.”

Steve aimed the light at Walt and slowly lowered it down to where he was pointing. A number three was carved into the stone next to him. Walt pressed down quickly. A loud clicking resonated through the room as the flood gates re opened. Water poured from the cavity in the ceiling, catching them off guard. Walt shifted his foot, but the cascade continued until the opening had closed completely with an echoing click. Steve had wrapped the handle of the duffle bag over his arms, leaving it clinging to his back as he waded through ankle deep water to Walt’s side.

“Well, now what?” he asked, flashing the light to the ceiling he searched for the gap through which the water had been pouring. The water level slowly tapered off as it seeped into the floor. Soon the ankle deep water had become a mere slickness on the stones beneath them.

“We try again,” Walt answered, poising to step on the stone once more. “Make sure you get up there first
,” he added, hoping he would have the time to escape before drowning in the dark cold waters. Steve nodded, standing directly under the opening. Walt stepped back onto the stone. Water drained into the room and with it the putrid smell of decay and mould. The stream rose up to their knees, slowly taking over their bodies with its cool dampness. As the ladder got closer, Steve jumped, catching hold and scrambling upwards.

***

Grace and Ethan started, awakened by the familiar clicking and the deafening rush of water. They both jumped to their feet, half asleep and terrified that they were about to be washed out again.

“Someone is coming
.” Grace looked to the hallway as it slowly lit up from a distance. She could see Ethan in the faint light approaching.

Quickly Ethan pressed on his flashlight, running to the bookshelf. “Five, something to do with five...” he mumbled as he searched, tossing books into the growing stack at the foot of the ladder. Grace rushed to his side searching frantically as he muttered to himself.

“Roman Numerals!” Grace exclaimed in an excited hush after several moments of panic. “I think I saw something over here.” she dashed to a row of books on the far side of the room. Ethan followed up behind her with the light. Grace pulled at a book with a large golden V on the spine. The shelves swung back, opening into blackness. Grace and Ethan rushed inside. As the case closed, the lights behind them shut out. They could hear heavy footsteps and yelling from the other side of the wall. It had been a close one, far too close. Grace and Ethan had to make up some time. The guards were hot on their trail and obviously capable of manoeuvring through the tunnels on their own. It was no longer a safe route for them. Their hearts were pounding in protest.