Tillie

When the foursome stepped out of Stillwell Avenue station, they were confused.

“I thought you said Paladin and Vyka would show us the way,” said Somes.

“We were supposed to meet right here,” said Gabriel, looking around. “Maybe they’re still following my dad.”

“I hope nothing’s wrong,” said Pamela.

In the distance, they heard the croaky calls of ravens. Sooty clouds filled the sky, and the air felt prickly and charged. They started walking toward the sound of the birds.

The streets of Coney Island were empty, yet there were hints of the summer season to come. The brightly painted gondola rides and spinning platforms in Luna Park stood stark and still against the sky. An empty wooden promenade extended over a level beach, while seagulls coasted playfully on waves as they crashed to shore.

A faded mural of a fun-house face was painted on a building near the boardwalk—his broad, insane grin gawked at the children as if to say “I know why you’re here!”

“What a horrible face,” said Pamela, shuddering.

“It’s called Tillie,” said Gabriel. “There are tons of versions of him, but this mural is the biggest one I’ve ever seen. It must be pretty old; the paint is peeling.”

“What a joker,” said Somes. “He’s laughing at us for coming all the way out here without a clue.”

Abby polished her lenses and walked up to examine the mural. “Hey, look at his teeth.” Her voice rose with excitement. Tillie’s smile had a row of teeth as big as tombstones. “There are words painted on them. They’re very light, but…Can you guys see?”

They all gathered around and began reading the words, one by one.

“Welcome…,” read Somes.

“Stranger,” continued Abby.

“Welcome…,” said Pamela.

Gabriel shook his head impatiently. “This is taking too long. Everybody, just call out your words quickly, and we’ll figure it out together.”

Trying again, they barked out words one after another so that it sounded like this:

Welcome, stranger; welcome, friend.

You have reached your journey’s end.

From this spot your purpose lies

Way beneath these sunny skies.

Banished far from light and air

Lies a demon in despair,

Ringed by flames of azure fire,

Punished by his own desire.

If you dare proceed from here,

Gird your courage; veil your fear,

Overlook the sand and mortar,

Seek an entrance beneath water.

Gabriel swallowed nervously. “ ‘A demon in despair.’ That sounds like Corax.”

“ ‘Far from light and air’—that sounds a lot like Aviopolis,” added Pamela.

Somes, however, was staring at the gray waves breaking on the shore. “ ‘An entrance beneath water.’ How are we supposed to find it without drowning?”

“ ‘From this spot your purpose lies,’ ” read Abby. “Look, I don’t think we need to move from ‘this spot.’ ”

“But there’s no water right here, Abby,” said Gabriel.

Abby pointed down. “Don’t you see it?”

Beneath her sneakers was a manhole cover with the word WATER on it.

“Oh, water. I get it.” Somes grinned.

He kneeled down and tried to lift the iron cover. “No handles,” he grunted.

Gabriel noticed several finger-sized holes. “If only we had something to poke into this…”

“A hook!” Somes held up the device that Mr. Coffin had given him. “How did he know?”

They didn’t waste time discussing it. Somes wriggled the hook into a hole and, with a deep grunt, slid the manhole cover aside.

A set of rungs went down the wall of the manhole. The children climbed in and followed the rungs down, down, down underground.

There was almost no light.

Abby reached into her backpack and produced four sets of little flashlights set on headbands. “I had these from summer camp,” she explained. “My uncle gave me the set so my tentmates and I could get to the outdoor toilets without stepping on a porcupine in the middle of the night.”

“I hate outdoor critters,” said Somes, strapping on his headlamp.

They walked single file along a brick-walled tunnel, feet sloshing through a thin layer of fetid water as their lights scanned the wet and slimy walls. After several minutes, they arrived at a rough-hewn opening in the brick. Cool air blew from the dark hole and a new smell filled their nostrils—not of brackish water or rot, but something much worse. It was the odor they remembered from their last visit to Aviopolis. The odor of ghastly things that never saw the sun—silent, hungry, suffocating things.

Abby hesitated. “Keep going?”

“I think so,” said Gabriel.

“Yeah,” said Somes.

“Yep,” added Pamela.

Two things kept their feet moving forward. First, they were together. Second, Gabriel’s father was somewhere ahead.

Before them lay a narrower passageway that dipped down at a steep angle. The tunnel proceeded for about one hundred feet, then veered sharply left and plunged downward again. Their footsteps became louder and clumsier as the path before them grew steeper.

“Please, guys,” said Pamela. “Not so fast!”

“I can’t help it,” said Somes. “I feel like I’m being pulled forward.”

As Gabriel gripped the damp rock walls to slow himself down, small things slithered through his fingers. He hastily pulled his hands away.

“It’s like one of those paths inside the pyramids,” whispered Abby.

“You’ve been in a pyramid?” said Somes skeptically.

“I read that the tomb is always at the bottom of a steep passageway.”

“You’re freaking me out,” said Somes. “I hate pyramids, tombs, and mummification. The ancient Egyptians scooped out peoples’ brains and put them in jars.”

“Only if you were a pharaoh,” Abby said.

Gabriel came to a sudden halt; the others bumped into each other and uttered urgent hushes.

The sudden quiet was terrifying. It felt like a thing trying to creep into their ears, blocking all normal sounds. If you’ve ever hidden in a coat closet, you might know this sound—just your heart pounding, squishing blood through arteries and veins. A silence with nothing to corrupt it but the noisy mechanical racket of your own body.

Somes couldn’t bear it; he struck his foot hard against the ground, just so he could hear something. There was an echo, and when he raised his hand, he felt a cold breeze above his head. He looked up and saw a cavern extending above him for hundreds of feet.

When the four friends started walking again, they realized they were in a sunken channel with steep, rocky sides. Occasionally, they peered through a crack in the surface and saw an immense shadowy landscape beyond.

“Somes, stop that!” said Abby.

“What?” replied Somes. “What am I doing?”

“You’re making a sound with your feet.”

“Am not.”

The slithering sound grew louder and, quite suddenly, the breeze above them ceased.

Somes reached up and felt a smooth ceiling instead of open air. “Weird,” he said, for he could still see the cavern beyond the ceiling, although it was blurry.

The ceiling moved, scattering pebbles upon everybody’s shoulders. This was followed by another slithering sound, then silence.

Gabriel felt an impulse to play dead. He couldn’t explain it; he just knew that to lie still was the wisest thing. “Lights out. Everyone down,” he murmured. “On the ground, quick as you can. Don’t make any noise.”