Chapter Eighteen

She sung a beautiful note, an E, the most universal tone in all of rock and blues keys. She didn’t belt it out, didn’t whisper it. She simply sang it aloud while pressing against the wall, flexing her arms and voice against it until it moved.

The wall became a door before them and creaked inward.

They followed her through in awe.

“Oh, wow,” she said, still in key. “Now, what?”

Once inside the door, they walked into in an antechamber. It shook and then sank the moment all of them stood in the center of it. “What gives?” Otis moaned, steadying himself. “How many of these trials do we have to go through?”

And why did it sink when they stood on it? Did that mean they were in the right room?

As the room came to a halt, they were faced by a dozen more walls, but this time, each was notated, a specific pitch etched into every one of them. A dozen carvings in silvery-white beckoned to them against pitch-black walls towering at least ten feet high.

E. F. F#. G. G#. A. Bb. B. C. C#. D. D#.

The twelve notes of the diatonic scale in the key of E.

“A dodecagon?” Corey drew the incredulous looks from the group. “What? I actually studied in geometry.” The others shook their heads, but took in the odd-shaped room. “Things just keep getting stranger, but at least this one makes sense.”

“I suddenly feel like I’m in a bad Indiana Jones movie,” Otis said. “Are there snakes? I hate snakes.”

They gathered close and mused together.

“What now? Muddy? Where do we start? E—the tonic note? But, then what? Is it a scale, a chord? What do we do?”

This time, instead of feeling overwhelmed with anxiety, Muddy simply looked into each person’s eyes. “I think you know what we have to do.”

He gauged their blank stares.

“Who made this trail? What would they do? Not the Tritons, who want music removed from the people, but the music of the people who created this. Those who would make it so that anyone with a hint of musical knowledge within their world could pass.”

The others stood in silence.

“No,” he continued, “Especially if they needed to get back in, or out. Or get their families or friends inside. All slaves—from the Egyptians, who made to pyramids, to now—all of them devised codes. I watched a video on something like this where musicians the world over relied on one scale to communicate across cultures. It didn’t work for everyone, but it sure did when slaves and captives of war were concerned. The leaders, those who held the power and ignorance, figured that if it was music, it must be complicated and must be classical or ethnic in the nature. It’s not. We’ve been playing this for years.”

“Seriously?” Corey said. “It can’t be that easy.”

“It’s gotta be,” Muddy argued. “It’s the only way.”

Lyra pressed against the E door. “Well, I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I hope you do.”

“He does,” Otis said. “He does. He’s never let us down before, musically, and we came to kick some Triton butt. Let’s go rock their world.”

The drummer raised his sticks over his head and threw himself into the door with the “E” marking and it shattered into a million little pieces. “This is an Indiana Jones movie.”

“That likely means, we’re headed for death.” Muddy, like the rest of them, gazed at the open expanse ahead of them and exhaled deeply.

Muddy took in the scene before him; a vast expanse of stone squares filled the floor. Every inch was covered with either a black or gray tile of about two square feet, plenty of room for a person to stand. Every square had a note etched upon it. Not the lettered note, but one on a staff. Thankfully, it was a standard one, he muttered to himself. At least, he could read music just fine.

He gazed across the floor. It spanned at least a hundred feet, maybe more. He couldn’t tell from where he stood, but knew it would be a task to get to the door on the other side. Actually, two doors awaited them on the opposite side.

More etching covered a slab on the floor. A clue?

Poe kneeled down and read, her fingers brushing away years of dust. “‘Walk this way said the blind man. Walk this way and not that way if you wish to proceed.’”

Corey approached the edge and nearly took the first step. “Could it really be that simple?” He grinned as he checked the others’ amused faces. Only the twins wore blank expressions.

Poe stood next to him. “Dude, most people or things who got to this point likely have never heard that song. It’s a perfect trap.”

“So, let’s go,” he replied, shrugging in agreement. “Seems simple to me. We just step on the notes in the—” The tile marked E before him fell away. Corey steadied himself as Muddy reached out to help his friend from falling. He grabbed the bigger boy’s hand, but he was just too big.

Without a scream, Corey, not the bass player, suddenly fell through the floor and tumbled into space. Muddy saw a look of utter confusion tattooed itself onto each of his friends’ faces.

Gone. Just like that. Dead, Muddy thought. I should’ve stopped him but I couldn’t hold him. This was my gig.

He felt as if he were watching a horror movie instead of seeing his friend tumbling into the darkness below.

* * * *

Poe screamed in agony over Corey’s fall. Tears streamed down her face. “I could see enough to watch him go over, but not enough to help.” Her voice, beautiful at most times, sounded strangled by pain and wrung out of tune.

Muddy stared into the abyss, hoping that it wasn’t a long fall. Nobody heard a thump or a scream. Maybe, just maybe? “It was his own fault just like it was ours. Maybe we’re not meant to succeed.”

Poe looked at him and slapped him–hard. “How dare you?”

He ached to shrink back, but knew he had it coming. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re always sorry!” she yelled in his face. “Don’t be! We’re all here because we want to be. You didn’t drag us here. That idiot stepped over the edge out of arrogant confidence. You didn’t push him!”

But she did just that. She shoved him so that he backed right onto the black A—and it held. It wasn’t supposed to be the E note. They’d just assumed that, due to their choice of doors.

“Oh, Edgar, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean—”

“I know,” he said. “I stepped back, maybe more than you pushed. Maybe I wanted to step backwards. Put myself in the hands of fate .”

“Shut. Up.” She grabbed hold of his face and kissed him—quick—then pulled away and dropped her head. “You can’t leave us. Not now.”

He struggled to find the right words, but couldn’t.

Otis looked at the others, who couldn’t find the right words, either.

“This doesn’t mean he’s dead. Nothing here is what it seems,” Muddy said. “We now search for two people.”

“Time to go?” Otis stepped onto the same A that Muddy did and felt it hold steady. “Ready to lead us, maestro?”

Muddy bowed his head. “I’d be honored.”

He recalled the song, the main lick, the riff that everyone knew. It played repeatedly in his head and sung to him. Sure, it was in the key of E, but began on an A note. He felt certain the others knew it, save for the twins, but he would make sure he held onto them tightly as they stepped from stone to stone.

“Listen,” he called back as they lined up behind him, “one on a stone at a time. We don’t know how much weight it can take.” He looked down at his feet and saw why the tile Poe pushed him onto didn’t fall. It had a pair of wings on it, the icon of the band whose song would either save or kill them. Why didn’t he notice it before? Because it was too simple.

What supported it? Something solid or was it something he couldn’t comprehend?

“Ready?” He felt like he was beginning a deadly game of hopscotch.

He jumped from the A to the A#, or Bb, depending on the musician’s preference and found himself standing, alive. He found the B just two feet away and jumped again. Then to the E off to the side. Another problem arose as more tiles stood in his way. “But I finished the riff!” He hummed the famous line in his head.

“Maybe there’s a repeat?” Otis called out to him, the abyss below causing his voice to echo in multiple pitches. “Remember the whole guitar line. Maybe you have to keep going.”

Geez, just when I think I have it down.

Poe called to him. “Well, if it was only eight notes, people or ‘things’ could possibly jump it instead of figuring it out. Look on the bright side; you love this song! Keep going!”

So he sucked it up and did what she said. He could do this. After sensing the pattern ahead, he jumped with a bit of confidence. He turned back to the group. “Are you watching where I step?”

“Yeah,” Lyra replied. “I see the pattern. Too bad you don’t have something to drop on each tile, just in case.”

“Like bread crumbs!” Otis could never keep his two cents to himself.

“Or guitar picks?” Lyra offered the plausible solution, but Muddy never carried more than three or four at a time.

“Don’t think about it, just go, but be careful,” Poe said. “It’s a simple path once you can see it. Take your time. We’ll follow. It’s so simple even a bass player can do it!” How they could joke about this after Corey’s fall, he didn’t know. Stress did weird things to people.

Moments later, he found himself hopping across to safety. He gazed down and saw no tiles under his feet. “I made it!” he yelled to the band and the twins at the winged stone. “You can do it. Just go slow and take your time.”

This was going to be easy now. It had to be. He did it and didn’t screw it up. They wouldn’t either.

And they didn’t. From A to Bb to B to E, repeated with the lowered E, then over and over again, they jumped like a spastic caterpillar connected by faith. All made each jump, even Poe, who swore she could see just fine. Maybe in here she still could.

Just as it all was going well, everyone jumping, humming the song along to themselves, the stones reverberating the deep, rich tones of the song, it happened. They heard his call from below.

“Guys!”

Corey? Really?

“I’m down here,” called a voice. “I’m beat up, but I’m alive.”

Relief drained coils of tension from Muddy’s body as his friend’s words echoed up to where he stood. They had been in such a rhythm that the disembodied voice shook them off beat and out of their solemn trance.

“Corey!” Otis cried and skidded to a halt on a B tile. “Is that you, big man?”

Muddy found his throat closing up with emotion. His friend had survived the fall.

“It’s a long story, guys, but listen to me. Hurry or you don’t get to hear it.” Almost a minute passed before he spoke again. “Something’s coming after me. Something big. Hungry. There are doors ahead of me, two, actually. Which one should I choose?”

“Run!” they cried in unison and a few seconds later, heard a door slam. Scratching sounds followed, but no scream. Had he made it? Muddy had to believe he that did. Had to.

At least Corey was still alive. The two-ton weight on his heart crumbled in half, but they still had to find him. Before whatever was chasing him did.

But, the echoing of the door that slammed deep below them shook the walls of the abyss, which in turn rattled the floor.

It shook again. Then they heard something howl. Its deep cry reverberated in harmonics, hurting their ears. It was a low note, low enough the quake the tiles, but rich enough to drop them and knock off their inner balance.

“Run,” Muddy yelled. “It senses us. Run to the other side.”

They ran, but whatever was down there jumped and yowled again, this time aiming its voice higher.

Lyra screamed and grabbed hold of Poe, who tried to steady her. Muddy almost felt Poe’s fingers just before both went over the edge. He heard a thump, twice, right below the tiles and then a sliding sound.

“Edgar,” Poe cried, “we’re slipping somewhere. Find us!”

He didn’t allow himself to be upset. They would be fine, just like Corey. They had to be.

The only way to save them was to get to the out of the room and find a way down.

* * * *

After their voices trailed away, Muddy assumed they were safe for the moment and attempted to help Otis and Luke. The pair jumped together and nearly made it. Nearly. Three steps away from the long ledge on which Muddy stood, they heard the thing launched itself upwards again. It had been climbing something beneath the tiles, something in the abyss. This time, it must have been pretty angry that it missed out on Corey and the girls. Claws that dwarfed what the sirens had reached over the top of the tile Luke and Otis were jumping onto and caught Luke’s boot. The teen steadied himself, but his eyes went wide.

A face peered over the top of the stone and froze the three of them. What Muddy saw would give him nightmares for the rest of his life. Eyes of prism-like colors and mouths—plural, opened and snapped in all directions. That explained the harmonic voices.

Luke looked at where Muddy stood then gazed downward. Down? Muddy thought. Are you kidding? He grabbed hold of Otis, who was gripping his drum tight, saw what Luke saw and jumped off the stone. He heard the same shallow thumps, followed by a shifting sound. The thing howled in frustration again, likely because two more meals had tumbled away.

“Muddy!” he heard Otis call, “run. We’ll be fine, I think, if this path takes us out of here and not into that thing’s supper dish.” The voice faded as Otis spoke and now sounded far away. “Get through that door and do this job!”

He saw the face of the creature again, those eyes, flashing at him now like strobe lights at a bad school dance. Was it trying to hypnotize him, making him an easy dinner? He resisted and ran to the door, which turned out to be a pair instead. They stood in front of him, each clearly marked. Each note’s letter was carved into a dark mirrored door in a font he never saw before.

One was G. The other was F#.

The lady or the tiger? Life or death?

Was it the blues scale or the formal major scale?

He ran toward the F# and nearly crashed through it before he realized something. Who built this trail and the tricks within it? It was meant to keep the Tritons from killing the slaves, just like the Egyptians, Babylonians, Mayans, etc. They had a way in and out, but wanted to keep those who threatened them far from success.

Only a slave who knew the pure power of music to keep one’s soul alive would choose what he did. So he dove headlong, smashing through the G door, just like the E. Scattered shale or fine quartz covered him in his landing, but nothing followed him. He looked back and saw that another door slid into its place. He checked for cuts and bruises and found himself unscathed, physically. Would the creature be able to follow? He prayed not and ran down a narrow pathway—right into the mouth of his next task.