THE NEXT NIGHT, IN the sunken chamber, Conway chipped away in silence for an hour while Pierce sat smoking. Finally, Conway said, “How’d it go?”
“I made as much progress as you did.”
“We didn’t get anywhere,” Conway said.
“Welcome to the club.”
They were both silent. The only sound was the biting chisel and the thump of the wooden mallet. The plaster flaked away and fell, shattering on the floor.
“God damn it, why’d you have to fight?” Conway said.
“Who said we fought?”
“You did.”
“I did not”
“Well, did you fight, or didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Pierce admitted, “we fought.”
“You see? What did I tell you?”
“Someday,” Pierce said, “I really am going to punch you in the nose.”
“My grandpappy used to say that people who loved each other fought in order to avoid intimacy.”
“I thought your grandpappy was a Sioux Indian.”
“This is the other side of the family. This is my grandpappy the psychiatrist.”
“All right. You’ve made your point.”
“But you don’t listen to me, that’s the trouble. Here I am, giving you all this good advice, and you sit there without hearing—”
He stopped.
“What’s the matter? Got a cramp in your tongue?”
Silence. Then Conway said “No, no. It’s just that I’ve come upon this little crack, you see, and it looks as if it might be another door.”
Pierce was on his feet immediately, looking up where Conway was working in the hammock. The edge of a smoothly cut stone block was clearly visible.
“Keep going,” Pierce said.
Conway worked furiously. In less than five minutes, he had found the outline of a rectangle four feet square.
“That must be it,” Pierce said.
Conway jumped down from the hammock. “I think so, too.”
The block was located near the ceiling and near a corner. “Tricky devils,” Conway said. “I’ve never heard of a connecting passage being cut in a place like that.”
“Do you suppose it opens out or in?”
“I’ll give you money it opens out, but let’s try to push it in first.”
Pierce clambered up into the hammock and pushed with both arms. Then, he took the crowbar and tried to wedge it forward. Little flakes of loose plaster and limestone came free, but that was all.
“Try to bring it out,” Conway said.
Pierce applied reverse pressure to the crowbar. Almost immediately, he felt the big stone move.
“Easy there. It must weigh more than a Buick. It’ll fall right into your hammock and take you with it.”
It required half an hour to drive a new spike into the rock and sling the hammock so that the rock would miss it when it fell. Working from the new position was difficult; Pierce had trouble maintaining his balance and gaining leverage. But he made progress—the block moved out farther, then farther. Soon, he could see it in cross section.
“It’s thin. No more than four inches thick.”
“What’re you complaining about?”
“Stand back,” Pierce said. When Conway had crossed to the other side of the room, he gave a final heave with the crowbar.
With a crunching sound, the rock came free and fell. It struck the floor with a heavy crash and shattered into a thousand fragments, almost a powder. The air was opaque with dust, and both men were coughing.
“Now look what you’ve done,” Conway said.
They rearranged the hammock, swinging it back to its old position. Pierce climbed up and shined a flashlight down the corridor. It was long and smoothly finished but lacked the colorful hieroglyphics of the other chamber.
“What do you see?” Conway said.
“It goes about fifty feet and then ends in a blank wall. But it’s smooth, so it must be another door. I’ll go have a look.”
“I’m right behind you.”
Pierce scrambled up and entered the passageway. Crouching, he walked down, feeling his backbone scrape the rock. Behind him, Conway grunted as he hauled himself up into the hammock; rear light was momentarily blocked—Conway must be entering the passage.
“Wait for me,” he said. “What’re you trying to do, hog all the glory for yourself? Remember who found this tunnel in the first place. Yours truly. Keep that in mind, fella.”
Pierce reached the door at the far end—and it was a door; he could see the mortar around the edges.
“Better get the chisel and crowbar,” he said.
“Okay,” Conway said, “but don’t try anything foolish while I’m gone.”
He backed down. Pierce waited by the door. He rapped it with his knuckles and was surprised to hear a hollow sound. It couldn’t be very thick. It sounded like a garden slate, no more than an inch thick.
Tentatively, he pushed on it with his palm.
It moved.
“What do you know?” he said aloud.
“What’s that?” Conway called.
“I think we can do without the tools,” Pierce said.
“Okay, man.”
Pierce pushed again. The door gave way farther. Conway was back in the tunnel, moving toward him.
“Be careful there.”
“I will.”
Conway was still thirty feet back. He gave a hard push, and the door fell away, slapping down on the rock floor of the next room.
“Made it!”
He stepped into the next chamber.
And then he heard a sound behind him—a grinding, grating sound, like heavy sandpaper scraping.
The light coming through the corridor dimmed.
With a heavy thunk, the corridor was sealed off. Surprised, he dropped his flashlight, which clattered on the floor and went out.
“Hey!”
It was pitch dark. The room smelled dead.