Tunnels (10 page)

 

CLUE LIST

(because every good archaeologist has one)

 

Heart locations: could they be connected to the tunnels somehow?

Church pillar with G.P. + E.V carved in it.

The butt which was actually a heart—way to go, E—in first tunnel (although I did read the heart symbol was designed with the female butt in mind. Ew).

Pops's journal said there was one in his basement.

My shoe, marked-up by me, at some point I don't remember.

Creepy guy's arm.

Archways: do they lead somewhere?

Saw one the day I fell through the hole when David rescued me with his fellow hot firemen.

One was in my video when freaky lizard guy yelled at me to get out of the tunnel.

Who or what is the thing with the long nose? Is it the old man or could it be he's leftover from the ancient lizard civilization? Like dinosaurs are the birds' ancestors? Or maybe the two of them are working together…

Pops's lost map from when he was a kid

He told us it was a map of the tunnels.

Where is it? Will I get to dig through Pops's stuff?

Newspaper clippings

Story of Joseph Cooper going crazy from trying to find the tunnels.

The poem written by Joseph's dad—clue to the tunnels? Joseph said it was.

The spirit of Kirke H. Woods and the books he showed me

GOING BACK IN

"I don't even know what to say about that," I said, turning away and walking back over to the bus stop. "It's too much to think about." And it was. If I were to continue with my tunnel search, I couldn't let fear stop me. Or the fact that hearts kept appearing everywhere.

"Well, if you're gonna be stupid and go back down, at least you know the guy probably isn't down there waiting for you this time." Taking a big drink from his water bottle, he wiped his brow like he'd just climbed Everest. That's when I noticed his backpack and some long metal bar he was carrying.

"Wow, you gonna use that ninja stick on the creepy guy?" I teased. Somehow it was hard to picture Evan fighting anyone.

"Look, a good crow bar comes in handy more than you'd think," he said, rolling his eyes at me for the second time today as the bus pulled up. "Better get on if we're going to do this."

After we sat down, I told him what I'd seen when I'd tripped in the mayor's garden. Of course he missed the point completely and instead accused me of falling on purpose so David could save me again. Holy schnauzers he was in a grumpy mood. Guess I was lucky he'd shown up at all.

I'd wanted to go to the mayor's garden first thing today, but I'd heard her say a bunch of historians were touring her mansion on Saturday. It's not like I'd be able to stroll into the garden and start digging without getting noticed. So I'd just have to wait a day or two. If you haven't realized yet, patience and I don't get along too well.

Fifteen minutes later we were stepping off the bus and standing alone on Pioneer—a street I never would have thought of as deserted before. But as I glanced left and then right, I saw no other cars or buses in sight, which was pretty eerie.

"So where is this Zanja?" Evan asked as he took another swig of water. The dude seriously needed to stop plowing through his water ration unless he wanted to find a tree to pee behind.

"I have the coordinates plugged into my GPS. Got 'em from the city plans. The notes in the file said one of the main entrances to the Zanja sits in the center of those trees over there." I pointed to my right where the orange groves seemed to grow all the way to the base of the mountains.

All over Citrus Grove orange trees have been lining both sides of many streets for over a hundred years. But for some reason today I didn't see them as I normally did. Instead of beautiful and peaceful, they were exactly the opposite. Even the amazing smell of the orange blossoms couldn't change my mind.

"Come on," I said as I stepped into the street to cross. "Let's go find it."

Aside from the rustle of the branches in the breeze, the grove was quiet. A little too quiet. I kept turning my head from side to side, thinking I'd seen something shoot by out of the corner of my eye. But I couldn't tell Evan because I knew it'd scare him off—and I couldn't risk it. I needed the help and wanted the company.

"These groves were once owned by the two guys who founded Citrus Grove," I said, mainly to just fill up the silence and calm my nerves. Facts always have that effect on me. "Tiberius Cypress and Henry Fern—"

"What," he interrupted, "you a tour guide now?" He was already munching on some trail mix, because of course we'd burned so many calories on the bus ride over. "You forget I know all this stuff. My great-great-grandpa was here at the same time they were."

"Holy crud, E. Just trying to keep things interesting."

Since talking's out, I began jogging so he'd quit snacking and hurry up. The overly ripe oranges were bursting all over me when I stepped on them. I tried jumping over them as best I could, because it would be hard to explain to the General if I came home smelling like a smoothie. After lots of rows of trees, I slowed down and took another look at my Dad's GPS, which I'd scored from his car.

"Only a little further, E."

"Well then it's a good thing I've got my Dodger hat to protect me against incoming bat poo."

And then, just seconds later, the GPS signaled we'd hit the spot. Weird thing was, all I saw was dirt—and lots of it. No marker, no nothing. Taking off my backpack, I unhooked the small hand shovel I'd attached to the outside of my pack. It's what Mom uses when she plants her flowers. She shouldn't miss it for a while because she'd just planted a butt-load of fall ones.

"This is it, E," I said as I kneeled down and started shoveling away. It was still early enough in the year when the heat hadn't dried out the ground yet, so the shoveling wasn't hard. Plus, the grove must have just been watered a lot ‘cause the ground was soft and easy to scoop and move.

"Let me help," he said as he got down next to me, "thought we could use this." He had a hoe so small it could have been made for the Lollypop Guild. I love those guys even more than the Tin Man.

We dug down about a foot before I noticed something. "Stop for a second, E." I wiped away the remaining dirt. "It looks just like the trapdoor I found up at the mayor's house."

"Oh, you mean the thing that
accidentally
caused you to fall so lover boy could make it all better?"

I shot him an eye roll but kept quiet. Getting a little sick of him accusing me of faking a wipeout. Did he actually think it was my heart's desire to convince David I was a big klutz?

"Let's see if this one opens—the one at the mayor's was rusted closed." I grabbed at the circular handle, but no luck.

"Let me try to wedge the crow bar under a corner," he said as he straddled the trapdoor.

It didn't take much. The rusted seal cracked around the edges as soon as the crow bar slid into place. Grabbing the handle, I tugged while Evan continued to lift. It was just a second later that we were staring into a dark hole, where we saw the top of a wooden ladder extending down into the blackness. Didn't like it at all that we couldn't see more than a foot or so down.

"Cool," I said calmly, the opposite of how I really felt. Turning around, I began to get myself ready to step down onto the ladder.

"Oh no you don't," he said as he pushed me to the side. "It's not like fifth grade when you took all the credit for our erupting volcano."

"Are you seriously going there again? Like I've said a million times, my baking soda, my eruption." The boy needs therapy. But instead of telling him he's psycho, I backed away and said, "Alright, go ahead." 'Cause the truth is, I didn't really want to go down into that pit first.

So down he goes and disappears into the darkness. Grabbing the top of the ladder I followed, taking my first step down after him.

It felt weird to be leaving the fresh air and sky behind. Is there enough oxygen down there? What if there's a gas leak and we just lie down and go to sleep? Or what if some weird carnivore, like a cross between a possum and a big rat, was waiting to eat the flesh off whomever is stupid enough to roam the tunnels?

Just do it
, I tell myself. Fear can't stop me now…I wouldn't let it. I was still shaking when twenty steps or so later, we touched ground and the darkness completely surrounded us. Reaching out to make sure he was there, I gripped his cold arm. And when I peered upward, I saw no hint of light. It was like the trapdoor above us had closed, like we'd reached the center of the earth.

"So what's the plan?" His face lit up as he flipped on the light of a ridiculous-looking miner's hat. What happened to his Dodger cap? Usually he's not big on hats because it messes up the 'do he's carefully gelled in place. Probably another piece of his dad's rescue team gear. "I only have a few hours, so maximize our time, Cupcake." He rubbed his hands together and stretched, as if he'd dug this hole himself for us to access the underworld.

"Okay, let's just start walking…there's only one way to go." So we headed south. Whether the Zanja was connected to the tunnel system was still a big question.

"I can't handle how quiet it is." He threw some ear buds in and I could immediately hear the muted sounds of music.

"Thanks a lot, buddy," I mumbled. Wish I could say it was exciting from the second I took that first step, but not so much. It was just smelly, damp, and quiet. At least nothing was jumping out at us and it gave my heartbeat a chance to slow down. I felt a little silly for being so scared before.

It took all my energy to stay on my feet. Super uneven ground was making it hard not to wipe out. The Native Americans used their hands and rough tools to make it, so no wonder it was full of bumps. Not to mention what the irrigation water has done to break the earth down. If you've ever seen the Grand Canyon you'd know what I'm talking about.

I was getting tired and a little bored about an hour in but that changed when I finally saw something. Yanking on Evan's sweatshirt, I pointed to the wall of the tunnel, about six feet from us on our left. He pulled the buds from his ears and we both stepped closer.

"Look!" The flashlight was shaking in my hand.

"Better give me the crow bar," he said as he slipped his backpack off.

LUCKY NUMBER THREE

"This is the third arch, you know," I said as he took another swing at the bricks filling the archway we'd just found. "I have a feeling we've finally found a way into the tunnels!"

Despite his work for the last ten minutes, there was still no hole for us to step through to the other side. I tried grabbing the crow bar back from him, but he shook his head and changed positions. Now he swung the bar like a baseball bat instead. Once, then twice. That was it. Dust flew and I waved my hands to clear the air as a bunch of junk spilled out of the wall.

"Houston, we've made contact," he said. When we were kids, being an astronaut was his big dream. The Houston Space Center in Texas was on speed dial on his toy phone. Hearing him do this again reminded me of when he'd run around with a salad bowl on his head as his space helmet. I kind of missed those days.

Leaning forward, I directed the light through the decent-sized hole. It was still hard to see much, so we started pulling at the remaining bricks to make a hole big enough to climb through. We plucked the remaining ones out like loose baby teeth. An entryway finally appeared in front of us.

Grabbing our backpacks, we stepped through. I don't know what I was expecting, but it sure wasn't absolutely nothing.

"Well that's disappointing," I murmured as we began to walk down a new tunnel.

"What?" I could hear him crunching on a snack bar as he spoke. "You were expecting traces of your so-called ancient civilization?" He snickered at the end. Maybe it's a boy thing, rubbing it in when you're at your lowest.

I didn't answer him because deep down I knew he was right, even though I didn't like the sarcasm. How could I expect an instant discovery? I should know by now—just 'cause you want something a whole lot doesn't make it happen. But even knowing this, I still kept hoping some early-man painting would somehow appear on the tunnel walls.

But then, as soon as I was thinking once again archaeology greatness was slipping further and further from my grasp, the tunnel began to narrow. It forced us to walk single-file, and I was the leader. And then, not too much further, a room appeared out of the darkness.

"Hold crud! What
is
this place?"

Our lights lit up one end of the space to the other. Filling the room was the kind of furniture you see in old movies your grandparents like to watch. A large rectangular table weighing probably a thousand pounds sat in the center of the room. Twelve massive chairs were around it, with one even bigger than the rest…kind of like a king's throne. I dropped my pack and went over to the table and grabbed an edge to lift it, but the wood was solid and didn't budge.

"What is this? The meeting room for the Knights of the Rectangular Table?" He laughed at his King Arthur joke, but I didn't.

Then, for some reason, our lights began flickering, even though the batteries were new. His miner hat dimmed and then lit up, which made his face seem as though it belonged in a haunted house. On and off the light went, making it hard to see. So we moved closer to try and get a better look. I ran my hand over the throne. It was made of dark heavy wood, just like the table. And there was a worn pad on the seat which I totally sat on, ignoring the rules of evidence gathering by contaminating it with my DNA. I felt the velvet material of the seat and pushed my finger through one of the many holes in it. Some bugs probably had a few decent meals on these cushions.

Evan was in the corner fooling with something. When he walked back over to me, I saw he had an old oil lamp. "Think this'll light?" he asked as he pulled out some matches from his pack.

"Don't know," I answered, as I inspected the other chairs around the table. The important guy probably sat in the big one.

I heard a match strike and then the room lit up. There was a thick layer of dust on the table, aside from where my fingerprints had touched it. Like no one had stepped inside this room for a gazillion years.

Along one wall, there was a long cabinet and he let out a slow whistle as he picked up some of the stuff on top. "Come see this stuff."

Handing a small glass cup to me, we lightly
clinked
them together. It made a high-pitched sound which echoed through the room. "Sounds like real crystal," he said.

I had no idea what real crystal sounded or looked like. "Yeah? Well there sure are a lot of them here."

And there was. Ten glasses surrounded a cut glass pitcher sitting on a long silver tray. There was some gross brown stuff in it. Probably brandy, the stuff my Grandma serves during Thanksgiving desert. Picking up the pitcher, I took out the glass stopper and sniffed.

"Man, smells disgusting," I said. Definitely what Grandma likes.

Then I noticed something about the glasses. They had different initials carved into each one of them. F.R., J.D., B.R., and W.C. were just a few. Ten different glass cups with ten different sets of initials in all.

"Think this might have been a meeting room for a group of people," I said. "But why would they meet down here? Doesn't make sense."

But I was talking to myself because he'd already gotten bored with the glasses and moved on to one of the side drawers in the cabinet. I noticed then the light was starting to dim and glanced over at the lamp. Looks like whatever oil was left in it was quickly burning and we'd be back in the dark any second. We needed to come back here with more lights because the flashlights weren't enough.

"Hey I found this," he said as he held up a leather journal just like Pops's. "It's got some initials on the front and someone's notes inside."

"Let me see," I said, reaching out my hand to him. Thankfully he didn't argue and just handed it over. My stomach did a flip when I opened to the first page. The date, written on yellowed parchment paper with blotchy ink drops surrounding it, read January 30, 1940. Right out of my favorite decade. The handwriting was small and even, and I felt as though I recognized it. Which was totally silly. That's over seventy years ago. I read the writing next to the date.

Joe and Babe have joined me for my birthday. Hopefully the rest can come, too. Everyone
'
s been under tremendous pressure with this war on and could use a respite.

Below the entry it looked like someone was keeping score in a game. The page was set up like a scorecard, with names on top and numbers beneath. Definitely not a journal with a lot of secret confessions; it was just a book with some notes and random stuff.

"Hey, I hate to say we need to go, but we need to go." Evan shut the drawer of the cabinet. I couldn't help but pull open one more drawer, though. A case sat inside and when I un-zippered it there was a wooden chessboard. I grabbed it and stuffed it into my backpack along with the journal. I'm great at chess so I couldn't wait to get it open, even though it didn't belong to me. It was killing me not to go through the whole cabinet, to find what else was hidden in it all these years.

"It's a long walk back and we're losing light," he warned. "The batteries won't last forever, and we don't want to be caught down here in the dark. Hopefully we can try to catch a late bus because I'd rather not walk home."

He was right. I hated to leave but had no choice. It wasn't until I was about to put my backpack on again I noticed something I hadn't seen before. "E, is that a ladder?"

There, in a dark corner (don't ask me how I spotted it) was a wooden ladder which extended about eight feet up the wall. We walked over and pointed our flashlights toward the ceiling. You could see a round outline of a door in the ceiling, just like the other ones I'd found. Evan climbed the ladder and pushed on it. But like all the others, it wouldn't move.

"It's heavy. Get me the crow bar," he directed.

Handing it to him, I had my doubts he'd be able to get it open. Then I had an idea. Grabbing one of the chairs, I slid it over next to him. "If you can wedge the crow bar in there, I can take over and hold it in place. Then you can try to push or slide the door open."

Lots of grunts came out of him as he worked. I could tell he was getting super frustrated because he threw out a couple of cuss words, which is not his style at all. But then, when I thought it was hopeless, sunlight burst through the crack he'd managed to create.

"Here," he said as he carefully moved the handle of the crow bar toward me. "Hold it open if you can. There aren't any hinges, so it must just sit in the groove of the hole."

I did as he asked, but like I've said before, me and upper body strength? Not so much. But I dug deep and managed to keep it open. More grunts from us both now and then, miracle of miracles, there it was—a big circle of blue sky staring at us.

We climbed down to put everything back in place and grabbed our packs. Evan was the first one up the stairs and out of the hole. He reached down and pulled on my hands until I got a foot-hold and was able to climb out.

And you know what? We were standing in the mayor's garden, facing those totally embarrassing naked statues I told you about before. I'd been right. There
absolutely
was something hidden underneath the mayor's garden.