19

Frasier peered into the tunnel. “All right,” he said, pushing his glasses up his nose. “But this time we’re going in prepared.”

He rummaged around in his backpack, coming out with two more flashlights and a compass which he hooked to his belt. He handed me and Jessie a flashlight and hefted his Louisville Slugger. “Let’s go.”

With three flashlights the tunnel should have seemed less scary. But three lights just seemed to make three times the number of moving shadows. None of the beams penetrated very far. It was like the blackness swallowed them.

Under our feet the tunnel was uneven and we kept stumbling into holes and jamming our toes. The darkness closed in behind us.

“Nick,” whispered Jessie. “I can’t see the entrance where we came in. Look behind us. It’s gone.”

I glanced over my shoulder and almost tripped over a rock. It was like looking into a wall of tar. “We must have rounded a bend,” I said, my voice sounding hollow and echoey.

“No,” said Frasier nervously, shining his flashlight onto his compass. “We’re heading straight west. Straight for the Harley Hills. We should still be able to see where we came in.”

“AAAHH!” yelled Frasier suddenly, slapping the back of his head, his light beam whirling crazily.

At the same moment I felt something tickle the back of my neck. Several somethings. Bugs! Spiders! A few of them slipped under my collar and began crawling down my back. Then more. An avalanche of spiders all down my back!

“Ugh!” I flew into a panic, feeling creepy crawlies all over my skin. My flashlight fell to the ground as I pulled at my shirt and struggled to get the things off me.

All around us there was a sound like rain, pitter-patter, as more of the things fell from the tunnel ceiling. “Run!” I yelled, imagining us buried in a mountain of hungry spiders.

“Wait!” Jessie yelled urgently. “Don’t move. Stop!”

I froze in my tracks. Jessie wouldn’t shout like that without a good reason. But Frasier bolted off into the darkness, dancing and jerking and slapping at himself.

“Frasier, stop,” Jessie yelled again. “You’ll make the tunnel cave in. It’s not bugs, it’s dirt. The ceiling is coming down!”

Frasier skidded to a stop. We both realized Jessie was right. It was dirt raining on us, not bugs. My panic turned to cold terror. We could be buried under tons of rock and dirt.

Very slowly and carefully we tiptoed along the tunnel, afraid even to talk. Dirt sifted down around us and over us like mist. I don’t know how long we moved like that, hardly daring to breathe. It seemed like forever. But finally the tunnel seemed to settle.

My heart was slowing to a fast gallop when something soft grabbed my foot, tripping me. As I fell, I tried to shine my light on it. It was brown and nubby and rolled away on stubby arms and legs.

“Oh,” cried Jessie, running to grab it.

Before I could scream a warning she had scooped it up. “Look!”

I felt foolish when I saw it was a kid’s teddy bear, but Jessie wasn’t paying any attention to me. “Now we know for sure they brought the kids through here,” she said fiercely.

“Wow, look at this,” said Frasier wonderingly. He was shining his light on the tunnel walls. The walls looked drippy and weird, like candy that’s melted in the sun.

“This is basalt,” said Frasier, who was a real rock hound. “It’s extremely hard rock. Something melted right through it to make this tunnel. Some kind of laser beam, probably. Something much more powerful than anything made on earth, that’s for sure. I wonder if I could get a piece for my rock collection.”

Frasier fished around in his pack again and brought out a chisel. He went over to the wall and started chipping at it.

“Sssh,” Jessie said suddenly. “Do you hear that?”

There was a faint rising and falling sound, like waves at the ocean crashing against the shore. Or like the thick darkness pressing against my ears.

“I think it’s voices,” said Jessie.

I listened again. She was right. It sounded like a whole crowd of voices jammed together and all speaking, or crying, at the same time.