Escape (Chronicles of Hart) (5 page)

TRACKING

Walt and Steve walked along slowly, lighting the way with their bright LED flashlights bouncing merrily against the rough dripping walls. They had tried to keep a running commentary on the season of football, but it had quickly died out as each would pause to listen ahead too often to bother talking. The tunnels echoed and the underground noises and echoing movement of their own feet kept them both on guard, wary of the girl and her strange companion. They were prepared for an ambush. When the guards had reached the stone wall they stopped, flashing their lights around looking for an alternate route. “There is no way they could have gotten past here,” said Walt, confused. He ran his hand over the filthy wall and the lines scratched into the dirt. It looked like fingernails, someone had been here. It looked fresh and even, but he was no forensic scientist, so he kept his mouth closed.

“Well I saw footprints, so someone came down here.” Steve huffed to Walt defensively as he scoured the corners for hiding fugitives. He leaned over to squint at a mound of mud with concern, poking at it with his gun until he was satisfied that it was inanimate.

“We should go back and see if there was a fork we missed or something. I’ll watch the walls, you check up for manholes.” Walt took charge, shining his light back and forth across the darkness of the tunnel behind them from the direction they had come. He began walking as Steve scurried to catch up. Light trained at the uneven ceiling, it looked like it would collapse the second someone on the surface walked over it. He hoped they were somewhere remote.

“The boss is gonna kill us
.” whispered Steve.

“I know
.” Walt said with a grimace.

They walked slowly, dissecting every inch of the tunnel with their eyes as they trained their lights in the designated directions. They checked for crevasses, exits, alcoves; anywhere their two fugitives could have escaped to. They needed something to save their lives from the inevitable punishment waiting for them at the church. The path back to the cellar was more treacherous than they had anticipated. Climbing back up the muddy hill was like trying to go up a waterfall. Their feet slid from under them as the cascade of slime stuck to their shoes. The smell of rot clung to their uniforms after they had finally gotten to the top, covered to the knees with the dank stuff. They plodded back to the cellar noisily, their shoes squeaked rhythmically in the hollow echoing back teasingly at their failure.

***

Ethan and Grace had arrived at a dead end, out of breath from the exertion of the broken passage behind them. A rotting iron grate above them sat still, locked only by the third dial. Ethan twisted the lock, cracking through aged rust towards the nine. He twisted his fingers against the sharp rusted edges with effort. It caught at the eight, slicing his index finger against a sliver of rusted metal. Pushing the dial in caused clouds of dust to pour down on them as the grate shook free form years of silence. It clicked slowly along, protesting loudly as it lowered its left side to their feet providing a ladder up into the abyss. Rocks began pouring from the opening, growing larger and heavier as the grate opened into the space above. Grace and Ethan retreated back into the tunnel as the clacking of cascading rocks peaked and then slowly dwindled off into a ringing silence. Grace considered for a moment that these tunnels might be booby trapped to prevent unwanted strangers from sneaking through. Surely if the South had used it to escape, they would have worried about the North following? Taking a deep breath she walked to the hill of stones, wary of her footfalls. Now she would be watching her every step cautiously.

More rust broke free as Grace climbed. Her palms were bleeding from the rough edges and her cracked feet were wearing no better against the new element. At the top she ducked into the small tunnel using Ethan’s flashlight to look ahead while she waited for him. She crawled forward to give him room to climb up behind her. The space was small and she was hunched onto her knees, trying to press against the wall enough to leave him a spot. He finally reached the top, moments before the grate slowly clicked back into place shaking up more clouds of rusty dust into the air. Grace smiled to Ethan, tucking the flashlight between her teeth she turned and started forward.

Grace twisted herself into the opening head first, hoping it would widen out on the other side. The disappointment was familiar to her as she slithered along gaining ground slowly. The flashlight knocked at her teeth as it shuttered against the circular tunnel walls. She felt claustrophobic as the confinement continued, silence broken only by the scraping of their bodies and the heaviness of their breaths.

The air was cooler in the new tunnel section, dryer. Ethan was able to keep up to Grace’s pace, pulling himself along in an uncomfortable crawl. He hoped the tunnel would open up soon. The rough edges pulled at his clothes, tugging as he pushed forward. He had ripped his shirt in a couple of places, scraping the skin underneath in the process.

Grace carried the light in her mouth clutched firmly between her teeth. The metal was cool against her already cold lips. The chill of the tunnels had already slipped through her thin clothes and was slowly making its way to her bones. She fought to keep her teeth from chattering afraid she would lose their only light. Pulling herself along the tunnel rapidly, she could feel her freedom only three more doors away. She bit the end of the light at the scrapes on her knees, wincing at the sound of metal against her teeth. Dirt was rubbing into her cuts as the tunnel grew smaller. Her tattered clothing thin and damp, rubbed against her skin like damp sandpaper scraping her skin raw. Grace and Ethan moved along on their stomachs, gripping the rocks to pull them forward silently.

Ethan could feel his arms falling asleep from the awkward position. His shoulders ached in protest, having already been tested to their limits earlier that day when the guards had dragged him down the stairs. He worried about Grace being in front. The thought had occurred to him that these tunnels were rigged to prevent travel and the rocks that had fallen on them were surely a sign of things to come. Pulling himself forward on his stomach his shoulders cramped, slowing him for a moment as he re adjusted in the confines of the brick tunnel. This rescue had become a living nightmare. The more he thought about it, the more guilt he felt. He knew that although she hadn’t complained once, Grace deserved better than this. She deserved fanfare and cake and a castle far away from the evil dragon that had kept her hidden from the world,
if only real life were that easy
, he thought bitterly.

“I... need...a...rest...” Ethan panted after nearly an hour of scraping along. His elbows were bleeding openly and he thought he could hear his bones scraping against stone.

“Just for a minute,” Grace garbled, “It’s got to get bigger soon, then we can rest longer.” She replied around a mouth full of flashlight. She stopped and rested her chin on the cold stones, arms going limp as she panted through the tunnel. It echoed back like someone was watching them in the darkness ahead. Ethan collapsed into a rubbery mess of aching muscles not moving as he listened ahead for Grace. He tried to determine how she was doing with this long strenuous escape after years of solitary confinement. He worried that he was pushing her to go too far too fast.

***

Steve and Walter had reached the sinkhole at the entrance of the tunnel, baffled. They had paused at every bump in the trail. Searched for hiding places or escape routes and had found none. They were filthy, cold, wet and terrified that they had just come up empty handed. They stopped for a minute, flashing their lights every which way hoping to catch a glimpse of something before they had to face him.

“You will need the code to proceed
.” A husky and cruel voice outside the opening spoke.

“Sir
.” Walt acknowledged, jumping at the voice. He wondered just how long he had been up there watching them. “The tunnel ended, they weren’t in here,” He insisted, trying to sound professional like he was of value. His only hope was that the desperation in his voice hadn’t translated across to the surface; the other guards said he could smell fear.

“You will need the code to proceed. Six checkpoints. Most are dials.” Responded the voice sternly as though he was biting back his anger that the two guards had not known t
his. “And bring them back alive,” He continued, snarling as he tossed a small duffle through the opening. He kicked the last crate holding the opening down into the tunnel sending the ceiling moving back up towards the cellar floor. It shuttered to a halt, closing the two guards in as a shower of debris fell on them from above.

“Shit
.” muttered Walt.

Walt and Steve had never met their boss face to face but they could tell from his tone that they were in deep shit as he locked them into the cavern under the church.  “This is going to be a long night
,” he mumbled to Steve.

***

He had always known this girl was feisty, with a fiery passion that matched her raging red hair. He had anticipated that she would try to flee, and had warned the guards to look for signs. But he had not expected her to have a helping hand with her escape and he had certainly expected his hired staff to be more punctual with her capture. Their incompetence was astounding, she had managed to single handily evaded them while her accomplice had been tied in the cellar waiting. The tunnel, a feature Hart had enjoyed with the purchase of the church, had been a clever means of moving the girl should anyone send inspectors to his cover up church re-habilitation project for an inspection. Luckily the inspection was something that had yet to occur in the years that had passed since the original purchase of the property when he had agreed to the restoration of the church. To have his own tunnel used against him was infuriating. He would not rest until this intruder had felt his wrath.

“The wrath of a wealthy man is a horrifying thing indeed
,” he mused to himself, chuckling into the damp cellar air. He could hear his guards scurrying away from him into the tunnel like scared rats. Rolling his shoulders back, he turned from the cloud of dust rising from the spot where the floor had shifted and marched up the spiral stairs into his dilapidated room of angels.

FLOOD

Grace and Ethan had continued through the tight crawlspace and emerged in a vast anteroom, falling from the tunnel in a pile on the cold stone floor. Every wall looked the same and asides from the hole in the wall where they had entered, there appeared to be no escape. It looked like a dead end. Grace flashed the light on the four corners and across the ceiling with no sign or clue to tell them what direction they should be going. They were sealed in like a tomb, with only one exit visible, the way they had come in. Grace knew that even if they did turn around, they would be stuck at the grate. These tunnels were designed to go only one way. She looked around for others, worried that the whole thing was a trap and that they had reached the end of the rope. Her breath caught in her throat as the familiar feeling of claustrophobia crept up on her. If they
were
stuck in a trap here, at least she was not alone, and that was enough to calm her down. She reached for Ethan. His hand fell light against her palm. As he wrapped his fingers in hers he gave her a reassuring squeeze, she knew then that they would be alright.

“Well, is this a checkpoint?” Grace asked Ethan while reaching for her map to check. She held his hand a moment longer, before letting go to hold the light up to see. As she flashed light on the wet muddy page that had been held in her drawstring the rest of the room fell into darkness around her.

“It should be,” he replied looking around in the dark for a clue, “I guess we just find the dial now.” He walked away from Grace, his feet squeaking sharply on the smooth stonework of the floor.

Ethan began searching the farthest wall, feeling every crevice and relying on touch rather than sight. Grace still held the light, faced downward at the filthy page she was trying to decipher. As she looked over the sheet of paper, trying to see the anteroom through the mud smears and water spots she frowned. The page was almost useless it was so ruined from the earlier parts of the tunnel;
one, seven, nine, three, five, two.
She repeated in her head, keeping the numbers in the front of her memory. She knew the piece of paper she held couldn’t get her to the end of this maze. Disappointed, she moved to another wall looking and feeling carefully for a fourth dial. She returned the sheet of paper to her waistband mechanically, it was probably useless now.

***

Steve and Walter had been looking through the duffle bag, trying to make heads or tails of it. It contained chloroform, a cloth, dried fruit, zip ties, water, batteries and a rather odd map. Walter had already replaced all of the items back into the duffle, save the map which Steve was poring over. Their boss had always seemed like a mysterious man, who else would hire someone to guard one prisoner when the county jail was only three blocks away. He also paid them more than the guards at the state penitentiary and although they had never questioned it they understood that she was more dangerous than he let on. And now she was on the loose. The supplies he had left them with to catch Grace and that boy from the cellar were bizarre, but Walt trusted that their boss knew what he was doing.

“That wasn’t a dead end...” Steve concluded holding the long scroll of thick parchment up for Walt to see. Flashing his light against the yellowing page, he could see the intricate scrolls of ink intertwined in delicate swirls and loops. Someone had put great detail into this map of underground tunnels. It was so beautifully drawn out it could be framed and put up on a wall. In fact, looking closer, Walt realized that this was the very same image he looked at every day. Hung up across the wall from him every day was a print of this map and he had never taken the time to notice. He shook his head in frustration.

“Looks like we’re turning around again.” Walt spoke dryly into the echo of the tunnel hoping that Steve wouldn’t pick up on the familiarity of the map.

“Yup, this is going to take a while.” Steve folded the ageing parchment back into a neat square and tucked it into his back pocket for safe keeping. It seemed he and Walt were going to be stuck together for now.

Walt huffed as he turned and began trudging back through the tunnel towards the stone wall. He was so sick of this job and the strain it caused his real life, the one outside the church walls. Besides, his wife was going to kill him if he missed another dinner. The hours here were atrocious; but his boss was
really
going to kill him if he didn’t bring Grace back in one piece. He trudged on bitterly wishing he had finished college and gotten a real job like everyone had told him to.

The ground was thick with sludge; it clung to their boots like a paste and smelled of clay and mould. Evenly spaced were the wooden pillars that appeared to keep the decaying walls from crashing down. Walt could see the beams rotting though in damper sections, giving way to the acrid smell of the underground prison that Hart had condemned them to.

Footprints sunk deep in the hill of muck, clearly marking the path of the runaways and their own previous attempt at catching up to them. Steve shone a light at the wall tracing the lines left by Grace’s hand as she had followed along. She had left a line of scratches in the pliable surface of the rotting clay wall.

The two guards moved like snakes on their second run through the tunnel, sliding in silent unison through the thick damp tunnel with a prey and a purpose. 

***

Grace and Ethan had searched every inch of the four walls surrounding them. Ethan now sat pouring over the map with the dim light while Grace paced about the room in a panic, searching every wall over and over again, hoping to find the thing they had missed. She timed her pace by the dripping of water from the ceiling. Slow and calculated, each drop landed with a resonating ping quickly seeping into the floor and disappearing. She hadn`t found a puddle yet, nor had she found the dial.

“Grace, hey...” Ethan started, breaking the silence.

“Did you find it?”

“It’s not a dial, only the first three were.”

“Well, what is it then?” Grace whispered angrily. Growling with agitation she scoured the room again briefly, looking for something that was not a dial.

“I don`t know. But it`s not a dial.”

“Great
.” Grace mumbled resuming her pacing as her words echoed back across the alcove.

A loud click sounded as Grace changed her course. She paused, startled by the sudden noise and the stream of water that came from the ceiling, splashing loudly against the stonework. It smelled of decaying fish carcases. She jumped back from the sound, landing on Ethan as she tripped over his foot. They sat for a moment in a pile on the floor startled at the rush of water, worried that they had fallen into another trap.

“Try that again.” Ethan suggested after a moment. Helping Grace up, he stood, walking towards the dripping water excitedly. He glanced around to see if anything had changed, hoping for an exit door to magically appear. Flashing the light around the room expectantly he came up with nothing.

Grace re-traced her steps with no success. She tried again and again, and then
click,
water rushed from the ceiling in a cascade of decaying stench. She held her foot still although startled by the sudden rush. She looked down and realised the stone her foot landed on was the trigger. Pressing down harder, she listened as a grinding sound began above. The waterfall grew thicker, filling the room up before it could drain back out. Water crept up to her knees as the smell suffocated them. Ethan trained their light towards the ceiling as a pane of tile slid away revealing a hole through which the torrential amount of water was seeping. The water level rose quickly reaching their knees as the clicking grew louder. A metal ladder slowly lowered from the hole. Grace kept the pressure steady on the stone, even as her foot began cramping from the awkward pose. The water swam around her waist rising in waves as it bounced against the walls and back. The ladder halted inches from the ground slowly swaying from front to back in the water.

“Quickly
.” whispered Ethan as he darted for the ladder. He trudged slowly through the rising water. The cascade continued to fall into the room. Soon it would be up to her neck. They needed to escape fast.

Grace held her position as he made his way up. The water circled higher, making it to her shoulders with little effort. She shuttered against the cold water and the potent smell it gave off while struggling to keep pressure on the stone under her foot. When Ethan had reached the top he hollered down to Grace over the rush of water.

“Jump on the ladder, it will pull you up.”

Grace dove for the ladder, anticipating a quick withdrawal upwards. Instead the ladder slowly clicked back up towards the ceiling leaving her splashing for a few moments too long. She tried pulling herself up a peg, slipping, she almost lost her grip on the ladder. As water poured over her head, she started to climb falling against the metal rungs with her wet hands and feet. Grace, climbing at twice the speed of the ladders recoil, reached the top long before it had clicked back into place. The pouring water stopped abruptly as the tile slid back to its place. It looked like it had come from a large pipe situated beneath them within the ceiling.