Dark Rain: 15 Short Tales (30 page)

At one point, disoriented in the complete darkness, she loses her balance and, gasping and squealing, she pitches forward into Clifton. Amazingly, her cousin keeps his footing and catches her. She gets a severe admonishment to stay alert… and the two kids continue down, down…

“I’m frightened, Clifton,” says Monique. It is, at least, ten minutes later. They have been traveling in complete darkness for so long. There is only so much a girl could take.

“Just a little longer, please. I feel a draft.”

“You and your blasted drafts.”

“Wait! I see a light ahead! Come on!”

Monique sees it, too. A soft distant glow.

The light is a flickering torch, of all things.

As they reach the blessed fire—anything is better than this darkness—they also reach the bottom of the stairs. Before them, stretching to the left, is a long stone corridor.

Clifton grabs the torch, which is in a metal sconce mounted onto the stone wall.

“Here’s a question for you,” Monique says. “Who lit the torch?”

“Dunno,” Clifton answered.

“And how long has it been burning down here?”

“Dunno that either—wait! Maybe it’s magic!”

Monique isn’t so sure how she feels about that. A magic torch at the bottom of the world’s creepiest stairway does little to ease her misgivings about this whole blasted enterprise.

Clifton holds the flickering flame before them, practically salivating over the long corridor.

“Maybe we should go back, Cliff,” says Monique.

But her cousin waves her off and is already heading down the tunnel. She bites her lip. Yes, she could go back up… but that would mean going back up alone in the darkness. Damn Clifton! She pauses only briefly before hurrying after him.

At least we have light,
she thinks grimly.

The tunnel is very quiet. Too quiet. They can hear their breathing and footfalls, and Monique is certain—if she listens hard enough—she can make out her own heart beating.

“More light!” exclaims Clifton, picking up his pace.

Monique sighs and hurries after him. More light can only be a good thing. Unless it is a bad thing. In which case, they are stuck here, deep beneath the church.

She does her best to push aside her fears, although she is mostly unsuccessful. Soon, however, they find themselves stepping carefully from the tunnel and into a circular room… a room lit with three more torches.

Clifton holds his aloft, scanning the place. “Dead end,” he reports glumly.

This, of course, is music to Monique’s ears. Now they
have
to turn back. She says as much.

“Not yet,” he replies. “There’s something about this room. Something weird.”

“It’s just a room—”

“No, it’s not. Look, it’s a perfect circle.”

“I don’t care if it’s a perfect anything. We need to get out of here, Clifton. Right now!”

“Hold on, Mon. Why would anyone build a circular room in a secret tunnel? And look! There’re grooves in the floor next to the wall. Can’t you feel a draft coming from them? There’s an opening under here.”

“The only draft is between your ears. Now come on, Cliff!”

“Just give me a minute, will ya? If I don’t find anything, we’ll head back. I swear.”

Monique prays like crazy that he, in fact,
won’t
find anything. She is suddenly getting a very bad feeling. And her mum always says to trust her feelings. The chamber is littered with crates, boxes, some old church stuff. Cliff now moves aside some brass sculptures and focuses his attention on the smooth, curved wall. He runs his free hand over it, his torch held high. Her American cousin… so brave… so
stupid
.

Since she has no choice but to wait, Monique begins to follow suit, brushing her hands over the curved wall, as well. The sooner Clifton’s curiosity is satisfied, the sooner they can go back. And a small part of her—a part that makes her nervous—is starting to catch her cousin’s sense of adventure. Damn Clifton and his infectious curiosity!

Suddenly, he makes a sound. “Look, Mon, there’s a door here. I can feel it.”

She moves over to his side, picking her way around the junk. He holds the torch aloft. Yes, she can see it now, too: an arched opening. Except, of course, directly behind the opening is more stone wall.

“Unless you can walk through
that
, I think we’d better go back—”

“Look for a lever. Something that will open the door.”

“You have got to be kidding me!”

“I’m not. This is exactly the type of thing that was in ‘The Mummy’s Tomb.’ The archaeologists found a lever of some sort.”

“Well, there’s no lever here.”

“Just help me look, will ya?”

She sighs and scans the room again. The light in here is better, thanks to the mysterious torches that crackle on the curved walls, casting their flickering light everywhere.

Well, not quite everywhere. There’s a hole in the wall. A hole not far from her. She steps over to it. The hole isn’t very big. About as wide as her forearm. Or, as wide as…

“Give me the torch, Clifton.”

“Why?”

“Just give it to me!”

He hands her the torch and Monique promptly holds it over the hole, sizing it up. Indeed, it’s just as she thought: the metallic tip of the torch would fit inside perfectly. Which is exactly how she places it, nearly burning herself in the process.

“Okay, what now, hot shot?” he asks, although he sounds impressed.

Monique, of course, felt something that Clifton hadn’t: the torch
clicking
into place. Into what place, she doesn’t know, but she is beginning to think that this hole isn’t just a hole, and this torch isn’t just a torch.

It is a lever.

With a growing excitement, knowing she might be doing something she will regret later—she grins and says, “Watch.”

She grips the wooden torch about halfway down, well away from the snapping flame, and pulls down.

Hard.

Heart hammering, she hears Clifton gasp next to her. She waits, sure that something amazing is about to happen. But it doesn’t. Nothing. She exhales. Perhaps it is better that nothing had.

“Looks like I was wrong. Now maybe we can go—”

They hear it together. A low rumble, coming from seemingly everywhere. And then…

The floor begins to rotate.

In the sanctuary above, the older, dark-haired boy continues to examine the altar, running his hands over the cool stone… until he finds the same hidden panel.

Smiling, he pushes it. Nothing. He pushes harder, grunting, until it suddenly gives way.

The dark-haired boy looks up and sees that he’s all alone. He also sees a nearby box of matches near a row of votive candles. He grabs the box and, at the secret entrance into the altar, pauses only briefly before ducking down and crawling in.

The cousins steady themselves as the floor and surrounding, circular wall rotates slowly. The tunnel entrance into the room disappears.

Now, they are trapped, and it’s all Monique’s fault.

Such an idiot I am
!

Just as she thinks that, something amazing happens: another doorway opens, revealed behind Clifton’s arch. Beyond, is a dark opening, with an unearthly glow emanating from within.

Clifton takes her hand… and also takes hold of the torch, pulling it free from the hole in the wall. Together, they step into the dark room.

The room is cavernous and gloomy.

It is also filled with many ancient artifacts. No, not just artifacts, weapons. Hanging from the walls are medieval swords, maces, lances.

“What is this place?” asks Clifton, his voice filled with awe.

It should be filled with fear,
thinks Monique glumly.
They are, after all, trapped in this room, and it is all her fault.

They move deeper in, staying close together. Clifton holds the torch before him, but it soon becomes evident that it wouldn’t be needed. A ring of flickering candles surrounds a stone sarcophagus inlaid with mysterious markings. It sits in the middle of the room, and Clifton makes right for it. He holds the torch over the lid, careful of the candles.

“I wonder who lit these things,” says Clifton.

“Probably whoever lit those torches.”

“Makes sense. Hey, do you know what these markings say?”