32. Some Underground Labyrinth

I’ve been walking for ten minutes, and every step I take makes me wonder if I should turn around and run back out. It’s cold and black. I mean, absolutely deathly black. But that’s not what terrifies me so much. It’s not claustrophobia. I don’t get crazy in confined spaces. And this tunnel isn’t like a foxhole. It’s not quite six feet—I know this because I’m about six feet, and I have to bend a bit to keep from scraping my head. The width seems to vary as I move along. Some places might be five feet across, some just wide enough for me to fit through. The light shows nothing but dark earth and stone that somehow and in some way was carved here. It’s definitely man-made.

What for is the question.

For the first few minutes, I pound my fist into the side walls and the roof above me. They’re hard, maybe because of the cold but also because of the hard earth. Some of it feels like clay, or really hard dirt, while in other places are chunks of rock. There are lots of rocks.

I doubt it’s going to crash in on me. The only thing that could do that is an earthquake, and I don’t think they get those around here.

No, what terrifies me is wondering what’s ahead. The passageway has gone straight with only a few slight turns. At first, after I stepped into the tunnel from my basement, it descended quite a bit, but it’s leveled out and just heads straight.

There’s nothing I’ve seen—no lights or cables or candy wrappers or Egyptian symbols or signs that say Go Forward at Your Own Peril! And again that makes me nervous, because I have no idea where this is going.

My flashlight seems strong, but I wonder what I’d do if it went out. I could find my way back, no problem, but pitch black and musty air and cold dark underground …

Don’t think that. Don’t go there.

When I reach an intersection with another tunnel in the shape of a T, I’m forced to make a decision.

If there are more of these decisions and passageways, you might end up getting lost and confused in some underground labyrinth.

But it’s just one turn. That’s all. I can remember that.

The question is which way.

I stand there for a second, my imagination going into overdrive.

If someone comes out of nowhere chasing you, you’re in trouble. Especially if he’s short.

That makes me laugh, but I think I do that because I’m so jittery.

What if these are tunnels for letting out water from some dam or river? If these filled up there’d be nowhere to go to get out.

These and a hundred other scenarios swirl around my head.

Yet I want to know. I want to find out where these go. Are they all interconnected? Do they all lead to one place, and where would that be?

I turn right, then begin walking steadily and quickly.

I have no idea which direction I’m going. North, south, east, west. It doesn’t really matter.

I reach another intersection, this one looking more like a Y, and again I go right. That way I’ll just have to remember to go left on my return. I wonder how long I’ve been walking. Half hour, hour, longer?

I feel cold.

A bark comes out of nowhere. I jerk and stop and then listen.

I can’t tell if it’s in the tunnel or somewhere outside. I wait for several minutes, then keep going.

There it is again.

A loud bark, and deep. Not some tiny puppy.

It’s in the tunnel.

Oh come on. Not more dogs. No more crazy dogs.

I feel itchy and sweaty and cold and numb at the same time. Suddenly I just want to be out of here.

When the next bark comes, this time sounding as if it’s directed at someone or something, I stop and aim my light ahead. The passage just keeps going. I can’t tell where the noise is coming from, behind or in front of me.

This little adventure was nice and all, but it’s time to go back inside.

I turn around and head back down the tunnel.

I hear the barking again.

I feel more nervous walking back, because I feel like something is behind me. As I get to the point where one passage goes right and the other left, I turn behind and aim the flashlight to see if anybody’s there. Then I beam it back in front of me and then I see—

He’s tall and hunched over and haggard with a long ancient face and his eyes look hollow just like his open mouth and he points at me.

I stop and then buckle backward as if something’s on top of me. I run into the back wall as I keep the light on the man.

“Hello, Chrisssss.”

The voice the dead eyes the wrinkles the spots the decaying skin the undead.

I don’t realize I’ve tripped and fallen backward. I’m still aiming the flashlight at the man, who just stands there. Then I get up and run.

I run in the direction I was headed before I stopped. I don’t know where I’m going, but that man or thing was real and I’m getting away from him.

The laughter starts up, and I know. This man or thing or beast or creature dwells in these tunnels. He was laughing in our basement.

As I run, the shaft of light going up and down with my hand, I have a terrible thought.

He’s the vision my mom has been having. She’s not been dreaming or having wild cocktail nightmares. She’s been terrorized by this old man who may or may not be dead.

“Where are you going?” the voice calls out, like a stranger’s tongue licking my ear.

I feel like centipedes are crawling all over my back, but I’m too petrified to stop and brush them off. I keep running. One tunnel morphs into two that morph into several more and by now I’m lost and running and thanking Coach Brinks for starting to get me in shape.

As I run, I think I hear other sounds.

More animals.

More voices.

The sound of rushing water.

And the sound of

No don’t don’t even don’t go there because that’s beyond creepy.

But it’s true, and I hear it just like I saw the old man.

I hear the cries of babies.