The Castle on Deadman's Island (9 page)

This isn't like Graham, Neil thought. His mind's gone squirrelly Small wonder. Trapped in this creepy place, you start imagining all kinds of things. How could he have expected him to remain the same calm, rational Graham? Next thing, he, Neil, will be talking nonsense himself. It was up to him to act while he could still think straight.

“Something's happened to Daniel, and there's only one way we're going to get out of here,” he said finally.

Graham's voice came down from the top of the stairs. “What way is that?”

Neil stood up and felt for the walls of the passageway. “We'll have to follow the tunnel to the end and swim out. Through the cave.”

“Swim out? But the cave is underwater now, and the end of the tunnel will be, too. Who knows how far you'd have to swim underwater? How long can you hold your breath, anyway? The thought of it gives me the shivers.”

“Well, staying here gives
me
the shivers.”

“But by staying here, there's a chance Daniel might change his mind and open the trapdoor,” Graham said. His conviction that Daniel had deserted them seemed to be fading, Neil noticed. Maybe he'd been shocked back to reality by the thought of having to swim underwater through the cave.

“There's a chance we can get out by swimming, too,” he said.

“True,” Graham admitted. “You choose your poison, I guess.”

“Yeah, die fast or die slowly.” Neil felt better talking about it, getting it out on the table instead of letting it go around and around inside his head. Either way was a gamble – try to swim out underwater, or sit here and wait to see if Daniel shows up.

“I'd go with you,” Graham said, “but when it comes right down to it, I couldn't bring myself to plunge in. I'm not as good a swimmer as you. The way I flounder around in the water, I'd never make it.”

“I can understand that. I'll go it alone,” Neil said. “See you later, then.”

“Wait! If you've really made up your mind to risk it,” Graham said, “I'll keep you company as far as the end of the tunnel. It's the least I can do.”

“No, Graham, you'd better stay here, in case the trapdoor does open. Holler if it does – I may still be
there, standing in water up to my crotch, trying to get up my nerve.”

Graham came down the stairs. “God, Neil, are you sure?”

“I can do it,” Neil said. They both understood he wouldn't know that until either he surfaced outside, or ran out of air and found it was too late to turn back. “And the next thing you know,” he went on, “I'll be up there opening the trapdoor for you … I hope,” he muttered under his breath.

Neil started to feel his way along the passage.

As he'd imagined, Neil was standing up to his crotch in water, shivering, trying to get up his nerve. It reminded him of swimming expeditions on the 24
^th
of May holiday, when it would take him forever to plunge into the icy water of Lake Ontario in that yearly ritual.

But icy water wasn't holding him back here. It was fear of the unknown. How far would he have to swim underwater? How long before he could surface and breathe again?

After he'd left Graham, Neil made his way along the tunnel until there was water underfoot. By then,
the total blackness of the upper tunnel had lightened slightly, enough for him to dimly make out the moss-covered stones of the walls.

From there the passage sloped steeply downwards, and the water deepened rapidly. He had already stripped off his shoes and pants, leaving them behind. The less hindrance, the better. When the water reached the top of his legs, Neil stopped and stared ahead. It was like looking through a solid block of thick, dark green glass, which transmitted a hint of light from somewhere distant. How far was it to the source of that light – the mouth of the cave and the outside?

“Come on, Neil,” he said, “do it.” He plunged in and started to swim. The airspace between him and the top of the passage shrank rapidly. Two feet of air, then one foot, then his head bumped the stones overhead. It was now or never.

He filled his lungs, duck-dived, then swam underwater as fast as he could, breast-stroking with his arms, frog-kicking with his legs. He could sense the top of the tunnel just above him and knew there was no airspace there at all now.

He swam on, the pressure to breathe out mounting. Eyes fixed on the way ahead, he prayed for an opening, a change in the light – anything to indicate the end. His ears rang; he felt faint. Should he turn back before it was too late?

A cloud of bubbles burst from his mouth. Immediately, a terrible urge to breathe in again took over, and he fought against it. He stroked and frog-kicked desperately, knowing the decision had been made for him now. He'd never make it back. He could only go forward. Was this the end?
Air. Air. Air. Where is it? Please, God, air.

Then suddenly, just ahead, a patch of lighter water – or was he hallucinating? Three more strokes and he was there.
An opening!
The end of the passage. He swam through it into the cave and shot upwards. Up and up he went.

Neil broke the surface, his head cracking sharply against the top of the cave.
An airspace!
Not much of an airspace, but enough. Gasping, half-choking, he filled his lungs. Precious, life-giving air.

He stayed there, treading water, his head thrust back gulping breath after breath. How wonderful it was to breathe again. He'd made it! Now he felt as if he could do anything – find his way out of the cave, free Graham from his prison, and, best of all, be with Crescent again. The way he felt now, he could conquer the world.

When his heartbeat had slowed from its frantic pace, he dove again and kept swimming toward the light. On and on until he ran out of breath a second time. He had to find the air pocket at the top of the
cave again, and quickly. He headed up, but as he did, something brushed against his face. He pushed it away. Then he saw what it was – a woman's shoe. Beside it was another one. Neil grabbed for it, but it drifted out of reach. His lungs were bursting. He shot on up.

Up and up he went. Above him, the dark water lightened gradually. Then he broke the surface, carefully this time, the top of his head still tender.

But there was no stone ceiling to bang his head against this time. A wave slapped him in the face. Above him, the night sky sparkled with stars, and a nearly full moon hovered in the western sky. It was the loveliest sight he'd ever seen.

He was out.

Neil saw that he'd emerged by the cliffs at the back of the island. To his left, the cliffs tapered down to the shore of the cove, where he and Graham and Daniel had landed earlier. Was it just last night? It seemed a lifetime ago.

He swam parallel to the shore until he reached the cove. Climbing out, he stood on the smooth slab of granite, ignoring the chilly, predawn breeze, and relished being alive. I'll always remember this moment, he thought, feeling as if he'd emerged from the water a brand-new person – like the snakes in the attic that had sloughed off their old skin.

He would have liked to rest, but there wasn't time – he had to free Graham and find out what had happened to Daniel. He set out in the dark, barely noticing the rocks and roots that bruised his bare feet.

When Neil stepped inside the back door of the castle, the same eerie silence as before greeted him. Again he had the impression that someone or something was there. The feeling was even stronger this time, and he had to remind himself that they had searched all through the castle the night before and found nothing. Nothing alive, that is …

Still the feeling persisted. He took a few steps and peered into the gloom of the kitchen. Suddenly there was a noise, like that of a chair scraping across the floor. His skin prickled, but he stood his ground. “Daniel?”

Again the scraping sound. It was followed by a muffled voice.
“Oom haar.”

“Is that you, Daniel?” Now he could see a dark shape, short and bulky, making jerky movements. As he edged closer, the shape became a figure on a chair. Then the figure became Daniel himself, bound to the chair and gagged.

“Daniel! It
is
you.”

“Tak oof ta gaaa,”
Daniel said.

“Hang on, I'll find a knife and cut you loose,” Neil said.

Daniel waggled his head vigorously.
“Oonta ta gaaa firr.”

“Untie the gag first? Oh, sure.” Neil felt for the knot behind Daniel's head. He worked at it until it gave way and the gag, a dishcloth, fell off.

“Man, that thing hurt!” Daniel said. “Now the ropes.”

Yanking open drawers until he found a sharp knife, Neil cut the ropes. Daniel stretched. “What a relief,” he said, rubbing his wrists. “I was worried sick about you guys down there. How did you get out, anyway?” He took in Neil's wet underpants and T-shirt. “You swam?”

“It was the only way out,” Neil said. “But Graham's still there.”

Daniel leaped up, staggered, and almost fell, his joints stiff from being bound to the chair. “Poor Graham must be going batty. We gotta get him out of there.” Walking stiff-legged, like Frankenstein, he hurried, as best he could, out of the kitchen, muttering, “Down there all alone, dark and all, thinking he'll die there and cursing me.”

Neil hurried after him. “But what happened to you, Daniel? Who tied you up? And where are they now?” He looked around apprehensively.

“Tell you later” was all Daniel would say, “after we get Graham out.” He went straight to the white horse
and yanked its tail. He and Neil waited, staring at the rectangle of floor where the trapdoor would open.

Nothing happened.

Daniel gave the tail another tug. Still nothing – no whirring motor, no clanking gears, no rising trapdoor.

“Uh-oh,”
Daniel said.

The mechanism's kaput, Neil thought. The trapdoor won't open. His mind raced ahead. He'd have to swim back in and get Graham out that way, somehow. Could he face all that again?

“What a royal pain in the ass,” Daniel groaned, giving the tail several more impatient tugs. “Crumby thing's quit on us. What d'you suppose has gone wrong with it?”

“What a time for this to happen,” Neil said in dismay.

“We might have to borrow one of those drills they use to dig up streets,” Daniel said.

Neil tried to remember what he'd learned about electrical circuits in manual-training class. Even if he did figure out how to get at the wiring, it was too dark in there to tell one wire from another. “We need a flashlight,” he said. “But it's down there with Graham – and the batteries are dead.”

“Let's take a chance and turn on the lights in here,” Daniel said. He went to the door and felt around on the wall for the switch. “Okay?”

“Sure, do it,” Neil said. So what if the lights were seen from the shore. He heard the click of the switch and closed his eyes against the expected burst of light. But when he opened them again, the room was still dark.

A light did dawn in his brain, however. “The power's off!” he exclaimed. “No wonder the trapdoor wouldn't open.”

“I'll bet those guys did it.”

“What guys?”

“The guys who tied me up. I heard them fiddling with the fuse box in the kitchen before they left.”

“Then all we have to do is turn the power back on and we're in business. Where's this fuse box?”

“C'mon, I'll show you.”

They hurried to the kitchen and Daniel pointed out the fuse box in the corner of the pantry. Neil opened it and peered at the circuits. His face fell. “They took the fuses out! Every one of them.”

“What? Those jerks! They made sure I'd stay in the dark even if I did get free. Guess they didn't want me signaling for help with the lights.”

“There's not a fuse left,” Neil said, in disgust. Then his foot kicked something and sent it flying across the pantry, where it dinged against a canister of flour. He felt around on the floor. “Hey, they dropped one!” he said triumphantly holding up the fuse. “You go in the circus room and shout when the lights go on.”

He tried the fuse in each of the circuits in the fuse box until a shout from Danny told him he'd found the right one.

By the time Neil got there, the white horse was tilting and the trapdoor rising.

Even before the trapdoor was fully open, Graham's head appeared. His eyes were squinched against the light, like a mole who'd just come up from a long spell underground.

“Is that you finally, Daniel? Where've you been?” Graham said, although it was actually the white horse's rear end he was addressing. “Can't see a thing. Turn off the lights, will you, before they blind me. Any sign of Neil? I'm worried about him. He's trying to swim out – a mad but courageous idea.”

“I'm here,” Neil said. “Hang on, I'll turn the lights off.”

“Neil! You made it! Good going. I was really worried….
Ah,
that's better,” Graham said, as the
lights went off. “Thank God you're out, Neil. Rather glad to be out myself, as a matter of fact. I was beginning to think I'd perish down there. Like this poor little fellow here.” He carefully stepped over the skeleton and emerged. “I brought your clothes up, hoping you'd be here,” he said, handing Neil his pants and shoes. “But what happened to you, Daniel?”

“I was tied up,” Daniel said.

“Tied up?” Graham looked puzzled.

“And the first thing he did after I untied him,” Neil said, “was rush in here to open the trapdoor for you. Only it wouldn't open. They'd taken out the fuses and –”

“Who'd taken out the fuses?” Graham said.

“The guys who tied me up, of course” Daniel said. “But what about your aunt? Did you find any trace of her?”

Graham shook his head. “No, nothing. But these guys who tied you up – who were they?” He jumped as the automatic timer kicked in and the trapdoor began to shut. “This room gives me the creeps, all of a sudden,” he said. “Let's adjourn to the kitchen and you can tell me what happened. Then we have to decide what to do about the skeleton.”