“It’s
dark,” Mary said, “I don’t know if
heading down there is a good idea.”
“Scared of hobos?” Dani asked,
“Monsters or something? What are the chances there’ll be any monsters down
there? What are the chances that
monsters even exist? I mean really.”
“I was more afraid of the hobos,”
Mary said, “But that hypothetical string of questions you just threw at me has
me wondering about monsters now.”
“Come on,” Dani said.
Though their flashlights cut through
the dark of the night, it was still dark and it was still night. They were off in the woods on the west end of Falling
Rocks, a mile or two away from Mary’s home, and a quite a few miles further
away from Dani’s home.
“I’m kind of good at fighting
anyway,” Dani said, “Or did you forget?”
“Do you actually have your knife
with you now?” Mary asked.
“Maybe,” Dani said, “Anyways, it
doesn’t matter. I don’t want to kill any hobos. I can just give them, like, a
bloody nose or something when they get frisky.”
“Poor choice of words there,” Mary
said, “But, lead the way. If you see any frisky hobos let me know so I can make
a run for it.”
“Yeah, hobos will run slow, that’s
definitely something you can count on,” Dani said, stepping over the bricks
that had once stood as a wall for a home. A home that had been inhabited by a
family of five.
Tragically, a fire had begun in their
cellar, a fire which had spread and killed all five of the family members. It
was a week before anyone investigated the smoke. This all happened before the
American Civil War. Quite a time ago.
Back then, there hadn’t been a
stairway leading down into the ground. Mary was almost sure her dad would have
told her about a stairway, if he had been so interested in telling her about
the deaths of five people.
Dani reached the bottom of the
stairs first, and stood, staring into the inky dark below. “It’s weird,” Dani
said, looking up towards the beam of Mary’s flashlight, “But I don’t see any
footprints or rags or anything down here. In fact, it’s a tunnel. And it keeps
going.”
“A tunnel?” Mary asked.
“A tunnel.”
“Ok,” Mary said, “I thought you said…
funnel… for some reason.”
“Would that make it better?” Dani
asked.
“No,” Mary said.
Mary saw what Dani had meant by
weird; the walls and floor and ceiling were all slick and black. Mary touched
the wall with her hand, expecting it to be dripping or wet, but instead it was
just cold and smooth.
“What is it?” Mary asked.
“I would say obsidian,” Dani said, “But
I don’t think it is very likely we’d find any of that here. I don’t recall the
last time a volcano, like, erupted on the eastern seaboard.”
“Could be something dormant,” Mary
said.
“A volcano would make it warmer,”
Dani said.
Mary nodded, zipped up her jacket,
and waited for Dani to continue.
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