WHEN THOMAS GOT OFF the bus, he had a twinge of doubt. He could do his bus route in reverse and be back in his room in forty-five minutes. No one would know he’d left.
Except him. Nope, he was going through with it. If he had to leave the game early to get back before Mom got home, then he’d just make some excuse.
Thomas skirted the parking lot in front of Brookings Hall. It was well lighted and probably patrolled by car or bicycle. It took him quite a bit out of his way, but he managed to enter the Hilltop campus from the south side. He hesitated and ducked into the shadows between Brown and Busch Halls. Near midnight, there was no foot traffic near the buildings. Libraries were closed, and it being Friday night, the dorms were a lot livelier than the academic portions of the campus.
A student strolled by on the walkway, wearing a vest and carrying a radio. It was a member of the Bear Patrol, volunteers who walked the campus to help the university police. Thomas had read about it and hoped he wouldn’t run into any Bears. Or maybe he was hoping he would. The young man stopped and looked in Thomas’s general direction. Thomas was sure his nervous breathing or the blood roaring in his ears was loud enough to be heard. Just then a rabbit ran across the walk. Satisfied, the student moved on.
It was scary and exhilarating. And he hadn’t even gotten to the game scene yet.
If he was caught, he’d be reported as a suspicious person, and no doubt held for his mom to come pick him up. The thought of that made him flatten himself even more against the cold bricks of the building. There were some bushes as part of the landscaping, but since the branches were bare, they impeded rather than concealed him.
He’d been told that his first challenge was getting into Brookings Hall, and then into the tunnels. Brookings had a gothic look to it. There were four towers that looked like rooks from a chess game, arranged in a square. On the north and south sides of the square were long halls. Stone archways were everywhere. Thomas prowled along the outside of South Brookings, trying any door he came across. On the fourth try, the door opened and he slipped inside. He was in a hallway lined with office doors. A staircase led him to a lower level, but there was nothing remotely resembling a tunnel entrance. He returned to the main floor and tried another staircase. This time, in a dimly lit corner, he found a door marked “Authorized Personnel Only” and tried it. It swung aside easily. It had to be the place, or it would have been locked.
Inside, he put an envelope on the floor with his ten dollars in it. There had been no instructions for paying gronz_eye, but sooner or later, the guy had to leave by this door, and he’d find it.
Ahead of him was a tunnel with pipes running overhead, some a foot in diameter or more. A string of utility lights wrapped in metal cages lit the way, but the light from one bulb didn’t quite reach the next, so that the tunnel appeared to a series of light and dark areas. It was very warm, heat radiating throughout the tunnel from the steam pipes above his head. Beneath his feet was bare concrete, damp in places.
A few steps in, there was a wooden box about the size of a textbook on the floor. Thomas turned it over and over in his hands, unable to open it.
Great. This is going to be embarrassing if I can’t even discover what my quest is.
His fingers finally slid a panel open by accident, and then it was just a matter of time until he found the other sliding panels that opened the box. It was just like the game, only here it was in his hands.
Inside were two sealed envelopes, lettered in gold calligraphy. One of them read Vyzer Lok. So there was one person still to come after him. He removed his envelope and resealed the box.
Excited, he ripped the envelope open. Inside was a cryptic message.
Greetings, Vyzer Lok. Your quest is to find the Four Lost Keys of Durbane and bring them, and yourself, safely back to the entrance. No Vyzer has yet succeeded. The Keys do not want to be found, except for the North Key that may offer help or treachery. Good luck and beware.
Thomas stuffed the letter in his pocket and studied his surroundings. He could barely contain his glee.
One key wanted to be found. That meant it would have to practically fall into his hands.
He looked up, and scoured the pipes and the ceiling of the tunnel with his eyes. Nothing. He wondered about the other gamers who had arrived before him. One of them may have already retrieved the key, and he would have to battle for it with his wits. Or trade for it, if he located something that he didn’t need but another gamer did.
Thomas set off down the tunnel. He was on a quest.
Thirty minutes later, Thomas had gone through several junctions of the tunnel, always choosing the path on the right to avoid getting lost. He wasn’t actually very far from the entrance, because he was taking his time searching for keys.
His haul so far was four coins of limited bargaining value and his prize, a green fake gem the size of a golf ball. He’d also found a mummified mouse, which he’d brought with him in case it had some magic power in the game. He was getting discouraged. Time was ticking away, and soon he’d have to turn back, get off campus, and call a cab with his cellphone.
Then he spotted it, a glint of something gold. Rushing forward, he picked up a key that was partially concealed by a broken piece of concrete. It had to be the North Key, or it wouldn’t have been so easy to see. There was no message with it, so he pocketed the key and moved on. He might not have to leave before the game was over after all.
At the next branch of the tunnel, there was a small door in the side wall that looked like it might lead to a storage room. Thomas fingered the North Key in his pocket.
The North Key may offer help or treachery.
A storage room might contain many items that he could use, including more keys, gems, or even a map. As far as he knew, he was the only gamer in the tunnels who could open that door.
The key fit in the lock. Thomas decided that at this point, with his time running out, he needed help. He’d take his chances on the treachery.
The door opened inward to a black space. The tunnel lights were too far away to light up the interior. Thomas put his hand on the wall inside the door, fumbling for a light switch. He found one, and snapped it on.
The room was small, a damp, musty place with old bookshelves stacked every which way, almost as if they’d been tossed in and forgotten. There were no obvious prizes for him. He’d have to search the room thoroughly, or ignore it as a dead end. He took a few steps inside, and when he did, he felt a rush of air behind him. The hairs rose on the back of his neck, and he had the strong feeling of being watched.
Then the door slammed and a heartbeat later the light went out.