The Box (The Temple of the Blind #1)

  Chapter 11

  Beyond the point where Albert found the flashlight, the corridor did not branch off. It went straight about a hundred yards into the darkness and then made a sudden left turn and went on for another forty yards before turning back to the right again. Albert walked several paces ahead of Brandy, squinting to see into the darkness. He wished he was still carrying the light, if only so that he didn’t have to follow his own shadow through the gloom, but he’d promised Brandy she could have it and he meant it. He needed her to trust him. She’d said that without him she’d be alone and it was no different for him. But the limits of his courage were being tested. At every turn of the tunnel, he expected something to be there, something dark and sinister, something monstrous, something with teeth and claws and appetite and hate, but turn after turn there was nothing. Their progress remained unhindered, but their anxiety grew. He felt as though they were walking through a carnival funhouse and waiting for the next monster to leap out and startle them. He had to keep reminding himself to breathe.

  After perhaps ten minutes, although it felt like hours, the tunnel made a sharp right and brought them face to face with a waiting figure.

  Brandy screamed and stumbled backward, even as she recognized it as another of those faceless statues.

  Albert too was startled, but more by Brandy’s scream than by the sight of the sentinel. He gazed at it, taking in every detail. This statue was on its knees, the smooth surface that was its face turned up to the ceiling, its hands upturned and lifted as if in offering. From its long fingers hung his backpack and Brandy’s purse.

  “I’m sorry,” said Brandy, meaning for the scream.

  “It’s okay,” Albert assured her.

  “What does it mean?”

  Albert shook his head. “Good question.” Behind the statue, the tunnel continued on, but its floor began to slope downward, ever deeper into the earth at a shallow, but discernible angle.

  “A peace offering, maybe?”

  “Or a trap.”

  Albert stared at it. “I don’t know. Seems too easy. After all, I’d call that last room a trap.” He stepped toward it, beginning to reach for them.

  “Be careful.”

  He was touched by her concern, even if it was only because she would be alone down here if something happened to him. “Stand back, okay?”

  Stand back she did. When Albert looked again, she was standing all the way against the wall, her eyes wide with worry. She was clutching the flashlight nervously in front of her. She’d entirely stopped trying to hide herself by now, and he could see her breasts and the lovely tuft of soft, blonde hair where her torso vanished between her thighs. In the dark surroundings, her skin was like the moon in a dark sky, radiant, flawless, glowing gently in the gloom like a beacon. He could see gooseflesh on her arms, thighs and breasts from the coolness of the room, and her small nipples stood fully erect.

  He saw that her expression had melted into one of puzzlement, and then realized that it was because he was staring.

  He turned away from her and reached for their belongings.

  “Be careful. Please.”

  Albert took the strap of the purse and one strap of the backpack and lifted. Nothing blew up. No lethal darts flew from concealed slots in the walls. No giant boulder—breast-shaped or otherwise—came rolling toward him. There was no poisonous gas, no flames, no spikes anywhere in sight. He was not crushed, maimed or decapitated. This wasn’t Indiana Jones. This was something far different, far more real, and if he was going to die, it wasn’t going to be now. He took the bags down and held the purse out to Brandy, who came toward him, her hand held out to take it and an expression of great relief adorning her face.

  Nothing was missing. The box was still inside the backpack. Brandy’s wallet was still in her purse, as were her keys and cell phone. After a quick inventory, Brandy confirmed that everything but their clothes had been returned.

  Except that Albert’s wallet and keys were still in his jeans.

  Unable to do anything about it regardless, Albert dismissed his missing property for the time being and slipped the backpack onto his naked back. He then turned and studied the statue again.

  Without the items dangling from its hands it looked less like a pose of godly offering than a pose of worship. And yet, what was there to worship in this empty corridor? He wished the damn things wore faces.

  “Well,” said Brandy, “we have our bags.” She poked a cigarette into her mouth and lit it.

  “Yeah, but not our clothes.”

  “Yeah. I feel so weird walking around like this.”

  “Me too.”

  “Do we keep going?”

  Albert nodded. “I think we should.”

  He began to walk. Brandy drew the strap of her purse over one arm and her head and then followed, their combined wardrobe consisting entirely of a purse, a backpack, a pair of glasses and the jewelry they wore—two watches, four rings, a necklace and a pair of earrings between them. The two of them descended into the next tunnel, hand in hand, wielding a single flashlight between them.

  Albert wondered how far they had traveled and if they were still under the Hill. He thought that they must be at least beyond the limits of the campus, and possibly even outside of the city, but they very well could be right back where they started, hundreds of feet beneath the entrance to the service tunnel. He wished there was some way of knowing just how far down they’d gone, how much rock and dirt was between the two of them and the world that knew sunlight.

  Albert stopped before they had walked thirty feet. He almost didn’t notice the subtle shift in the color and angle of the stone. The path ahead lay under water, and the surface was as still as a pane of glass.

  Once more Brandy uttered her preferred four-letter word, but Albert barely heard her. He turned, suddenly very nervous, and looked back the way they’d come.

  “What?”

  “Whoever took our clothes didn’t come this way.”

  “What?”

  “That water’s as still as ice. Nothing’s disturbed it recently.”

  “Are you sure?” The fear in her voice was unmistakable. He wished he was better at keeping his concerns to himself. He was sure this would be much easier for her if she could just believe that they were alone down here. “How is that possible? The bags.”

  “Whoever it was,” Albert explained, “must have come this way, dropped your glasses and the flashlight, then hung the bags and backtracked. Probably while we were still sleeping.” Albert remembered fumbling around in the dark after he awoke in the sex room and wondered if whoever was doing this to them passed by him there and then, close enough to touch, but unseen in the darkness. The thought made him shiver.

  Brandy squeezed his hand and drew close again. Another of those sick noises escaped her throat. He knew how she felt.

  Albert stared back up the path, wishing he could see through the darkness. Then an idea struck him. “Stay here.” Without waiting to see if she would actually stay, he jogged back up the tunnel, removing his backpack as he went.

  But the thought of remaining behind and letting him run off into the darkness was unacceptable. She ran after him, desperate not to let him out of her reach. “Wait up!”

  “I’m coming right back.” But she wasn’t listening. With Brandy on his heels, unwilling to be left alone, Albert ran back up the slope toward the praying statue. About halfway there he stopped and began to rifle through the backpack.

  Brandy watched as he withdrew the paint can and removed the lid. He placed both on the floor, spacing them out so that they would be hard to miss in the darkness. She immediately understood his plan. Without a light, anybody following them would likely trip over one or the other, causing one or both of the objects to roll down the gentle slope to the water. The noise would alert them if they were still anywhere in the vicinity.

 
With one quick look back up the slope toward the statue, he grabbed Brandy’s hand and hurried back to the still pool of water at the bottom of the tunnel.

  “Can you go on?”

  “Through the water?”

  “Yeah.”

  The look on her face told him she didn’t think so.

  “Come on. I’ll go first, but you have to stay close.”

  The mirrored surface shattered as Albert’s foot struck the water and a shimmering ripple of reflected light instantly flooded the room. It was cold, probably the same temperature as the cool air that surrounded them, but upon their naked flesh it was hard to believe it could be so cold without freezing. Behind him, Brandy gasped, the cold as sudden as an electrical shock on her bare toes.

  “So cold,” she hissed, and Albert could hear the shiver in her voice.

  “I know,” he said. “Just be strong, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Albert had hoped that the water was only knee deep or so, but step by step it grew deeper and deeper as the floor sloped downward, slowly creeping up their sensitive thighs to the base of their buttocks, and mercilessly climbing the tender flesh of their lower backs and bellies. Violent shivers raced through them. Their teeth hammered together. Albert felt the weight change on his back as the backpack filled with water, growing lighter and lighter as more of its weight slipped beneath the surface.

  As the water reached Brandy’s armpits, she whimpered Albert’s name, a pitiful, broken sound no louder than a whisper.

  “I know,” said Albert again, his voice no stronger than hers. “I know. Just a little farther.”

  The flashlight dipped beneath the water and their submerged bodies were illuminated by the glow. Albert could see nothing below the surface. No fish or frogs or snakes made their home here. It was pure and clean, which was certainly good, but the cold made it hard to relish such fortune.

  The water slipped over their shoulders and they began to swim, their feet losing the welcome touch of the stone, and as they pushed farther, the ceiling drew down upon them. Albert prayed that the tunnel did not submerge completely.

  The backpack, now fully soaked, again began to work against Albert, threatening to drag him down as he struggled forward. But he did not have time to think about it. At that moment, from somewhere in the darkness at their backs, came the clang and clatter of the paint can as it rolled down the slope of the tunnel. Albert’s trap was sprung.

  “Albert!” This time Brandy’s voice was sharp and clear, tinged with a harsh edge of panic.

  “Come on!” They swam on, struggling against their shivers. Behind them, the paint can continued its long chorus of clanging and clattering as it tumbled down to the water where it was finally silenced with a hollow splash.

  Albert was suddenly thankful for their lack of clothes. It made swimming easier and he knew they would dry much more quickly without their jeans and shoes. But even with this going for them they’d be lucky to get out without catching pneumonia.

  He could hear Brandy gasping and spitting behind him. It was hard to swim in water this cold. The shivering interfered with breathing, making each breath a struggle and therefore every stroke more laborious than the last.

  Suddenly the flashlight fell dark and Albert’s panic was matched only by Brandy’s terrified shriek. She gave it a violent shake and light again flooded the passage.

  “It’s okay,” he assured her, but he knew the water wasn’t good for the batteries. A battery-powered flashlight could shine for hours underwater, the charge merely spent faster, but it could possibly cause further blackouts like the one they just experienced, and they needed the light in this place.

  It occurred to Albert that the ceiling was again retreating from their heads, and when he tried to touch bottom he found that he could. “Almost there,” he told her. “It’s getting shallower.”

  Brandy did not respond.

  As the water withdrew from around their necks and past their shoulders to their chests, the air became like snow, chilling their dripping bodies until they were nearly numb with cold. As it sank down his thighs and walking became easier, Albert pulled Brandy forward and walked behind her, trying his best to warm her by rubbing her shoulders, knowing he was probably doing little to help, but trying anyway.

  “Oh God,” Brandy stuttered as she stepped onto dry land, her arms wrapped around herself in a fierce hug, clutching the flashlight so tightly that her knuckles had gone white. “So cold.”

  Albert dropped the backpack and pulled her into his arms. Her skin was icy to the touch and he worried for her health. He did not know how close they were to hypothermia, and he’d already done enough to the poor girl just by bringing her to this twisted place.

  “Freezing!”

  “I know.” He looked back at the water they’d just crossed, back into the darkness that shrouded the dangers beyond. The cold was bad, but he had a feeling it was far from the worst thing in these tunnels.