Escape (Chronicles of Hart) (7 page)

***

Walt and Steve had reached the top of the ladder drenched from head to toe with the slick putrid waste that had been pouring from the pipe hidden in the floor beneath them. Walt was convinced that it had not been water pouring over them in the stone hole. The smell was too raw and earthy for it to be pouring from an underground stream. It had been a trap. As they looked down the short, cluttered hall ahead of them, they heard a resonating thud. Looking towards one another, they raced after the noise suspecting they had finally caught up to the fugitives. Walt huffed as he struggled with his belt, trying to retrieve his gun just in case.

Steve passed Walt, racing full speed into the room of books as the case closed with a resonating
click
. “Walt,” he called behind him. “We aren’t far behind.” He began to search the case, pulling each book out and tossing it to the floor behind him into an already towering pile of pages. Walt quickly scooted in beside him. Taking his lead from Steve, he started grabbing books off of the shelf not even sparing a glance at the titles. They needed to get onto the other side of this bookcase and if they couldn’t find the key they had every intention of breaking it down into kindling.

Steve was moving in a frantic frenzy. He was tripping over books faster than he could toss them behind himself. He had watched the bookcase closing against the wall before him. There had to be a trigger here somewhere and it had to be attached to the case in some way. He grabbed at a now empty shelf, tugging it back towards himself hopeful that they could just pry it open without wasting their time looking for a lever. It didn’t budge against his fiercest pull, his fingers slipped against the wood and he fell back onto the hard pile that had been growing behind him. Even Walt was working with a desperation that he had never seen before. They were so close and still one barrier away.

TRACE

Colt
’s crew had searched the grounds thrice, finding only one set of footprints leading in towards the church. After following those out, they discovered they had come from the road on the other side of the woods; it was nearly an hour walk away. Whoever had trekked in that far just to climb a wall into a decaying churchyard had been bound and determined to find something. It was starting to look quite suspicious as the evidence piled up. Whoever it was on the inside of those church tunnels, they hadn’t been a stranger to the situation. Colt considered for a moment if any of the retired guards would have done something like this. It couldn’t be; the culprit had been described as a young man.

Colt shook his head at the trees with confusion. He walked out of the woods to investigate the side road that the tracks had come in from. A small beaten car sat at the side of the road, with two broken windows and no plates. Thick scratch marks freshly chipping the dirty brown paint sat under the window frames. It looked as though someone had tried to break in by unlocking the car and after failing had just smashed in the window. Rocks sat on the floor among shards of thick glass. It had probably taken some effort to break in and by the looks of the car it hadn’t held anything interesting. It was more likely a local thug had used the car for “practice” for his next real job.
Why not?
Thought Colt, this rust bucket had probably been parked here suspiciously for a while now. Colt doubted they would get any information out of this source. It had already been ransacked by local teens and probably even reported to the police by other nosy drivers passing by. He turned back towards the church, glad to have news for Mr. Hart that would allow him to live another day. He felt pity for Walt and Steve, underground in those awful tunnels in the dark, knowing that they would fail. That would have been him if he hadn’t bribed Steve into taking his graveyard shift last night. Instead he had been out for drinks with his buddies when the call had come in.
Get here.
That was all Hart had said. Colt had known, even then, that behind that ominous tone was the threat of death. He had driven drunk from the pub to the church.  And he had been sober the second he had laid eyes on Hart, standing like a death omen on the front steps.

As Colt wound back through the woods admiring the autumn breeze swirling leaves in small clearings like miniature tornadoes, a light caught his eye. He walked to the source, finding a small briefcase tucked under a loose leaf covering. The brass nameplate reflected the morning light, glaring into his bloodshot eyes.  It was tucked neatly against the leather trim of the expensive case. Colt dusted off the last leaf flakes as he pulled it from the ground, the nameplate read
“Evans”.
It was then that he realized how much trouble they were all in. His eyes widened with recognition of the family name. Turning to the church, he tucked the case under his arm and ran as fast as he could through the crisp autumn leaves.

***

Grace and Ethan had just narrowly escaped the guards. Standing now at the top of a narrow staircase in the dim light of Ethan’s flashlight they paused. The light was flickering slowly against the walls, wearing through the last of its batteries. Grace felt like she was back in the tower, looking down on her freedom at the bottom of a spiraling staircase. She felt woozy at the thought that she had become trapped at the top again, with a set of stairs standing between her and the rest of her life. The stairs were damp and slippery under her bare feet. Ethan wasn’t having much luck with traction either, falling down the first flight heavily. He bounced the flashlight against the stairs as he crashed loudly into the wall where the stairs turned, crumpling onto the small landing with a loud moan.

“Uuuug
,” he groaned as he stood fishing for the flashlight he had dropped in the fall.

“Be careful
,” Grace called as she raced against the slippery steps to catch up to him. Reaching down gingerly, she gave him a hand to grasp as he stood. Ethan swooped back down to grab the light before it went rolling down the rest of the spiral into the oblivion below.

The stairs wound in a zigzag pattern; down towards hell as far as Ethan could tell. They cracked and chipped as they got farther into this section of the maze, causing Grace and Ethan to slow their pace and hold the wall for support. Grace was cautious of her footing with her raw bare feet. The chips in the stairs left loose fragments of rock that were easily caught under her feet as she moved onto the next step. She had sliced open the arch on one of her feet, adding to the slipperiness of the slick stairs. Pieces of wall crumbled beneath her fingers as she clung to the wall for assistance.

Ethan’s feet missed several steps as he raced down the stone spiral, he slipped on patches of wet stone nearly tumbling into Grace who had taken the lead after watching him fall down the first flight. His clumsiness was obviously a trait that he had not outgrown. She hoped that by being in front of him she would be able to catch him before he hurt himself too badly.

Grace paced down the steps, tripping over chips in the decaying stonework. The mud on her soles slipped in patches of dampness. She gripped at the dripping stone walls lightly as they crumbled beneath her fingers. She worried that the slightest touch would send the walls collapsing down around her and Ethan. She was afraid they would be buried alive on the decomposing staircase. Pieces of loose stone clung to the soles of her feet, sticking to the mixture of blood and muck that had accumulated there. It made it difficult for her to continue at a quick pace, she found herself constantly stopping to scrape sharp pebbles off of her feet before they cut her too deep. She was slowing them down and soon Ethan was beside her keeping pace on the narrow stairwell.

“Where does it come out?” Grace gasped, after slipping on a particularly crooked step. She squinted, trying to look farther ahead in the dimness. It was a feeble attempt to find the end of the maze.

“What?”

“Where does the maze end, what’s at the other side?” she continued. “Will we be far enough away?”

“Yes
,” Ethan reassured Grace. “I have a buddy waiting for us. He’ll make sure we get away.”

“Thanks
,” Grace panted heavily, catching her breath as she trudged on down the mysterious spiral. It was impressive how meticulous the craftsmanship was in this escape maze. Right from the beginning it appeared as though the tunnels had been made for something more than just a route for fugitives. Grace traced the stonework with her toes before stepping onto the next level of the staircase. Someone had worked quite tirelessly to make these stones smooth and level. She tried to imagine the series of tunnels back when they had been first unveiled. With the brass candleholders lit it would have been almost beautiful in its own horrific way.

The stairs abruptly ended leaving Grace and Ethan face to face with another wall. After hours of running and climbing, Grace was ready to collapse. Having had no food or water since her small dinner the night before in the tower, she was famished. She imagined Ethan was feeling the strain too.

“Two...” Grace whispered through heaving breaths. She grasped her waist, suddenly aware of the severe stitch in her side. Ethan began moving the dimming light to search. Flickering slowly once, the flashlight finally went out. Ethan shook his hand slapping the cylinder against his palm hoping to retrieve some life out of the batteries. It remained dark.

***

Walt had quickly caught up to Steve`s fast pace. Working in unison they ripped books from the shelves with desperation that was linked closely with their own desire to live. It hadn’t taken them long to find the book that stuck, with the golden “V” etched into the spine Walt had given it a tug intending to toss it across the room, instead it had stuck. Pain shot through his arm at the unexpected reaction when the book hadn`t moved as he was anticipating. As the wall swung open he held his elbow tightly to his side, waiting for the numbness to wear off. They slipped through the wall, hopeful that they would catch up in time.

Now using both flashlights to compensate for their varying speeds, Walt and Steve trudged cautiously down the stairs with little concern. Their rubber soled work boots prevented the slippery steps from slowing them down. Walt took up the rear as Steve shot on ahead stopping at intervals to catch his breath, allowing Walt to catch up with him. They couldn`t tell from their angle how far down the steps would carry on. Judging by the rest of the tunnels, they paced themselves as though they would be going for a few more hours at the least. Steve watched the trace marks from Grace’s fingertips against the wall, having the same sinking feeling that she herself had had upon seeing the softness of the wall. It felt as though they could be buried alive at any moment. Steve caught his breath, careful not to exhale too heavily. He knew loud noises could trigger avalanches, but he didn`t know what might trigger the walls around them to come tumbling down underground. Walt was heaving from the strain on his body, the farther downwards they travelled the more he perspired. The heat and dampness were too much on his body and he was slowing down to a snail`s pace when Steve stopped to check on him.

“Hey, take a break, have some of this
.” Steve zipped the duffle bag back up at his side, handing over a bottle of water to Walt. “Now would be a good time to have that other granola bar,” he added, seeing how pale Walt had become in the dark underground. He tucked his flashlight into his waist, leaving it on to cast an ambient glow down the stairwell. Walt sat heavily on the step behind him, struggling with the bottle cap as he tugged the melting squished granola bar from his chest pocket. He was silent as he ate the bar whole, washing it down with half of the bottle of water. Gulping loudly he held the bottle up to Steve, offering him a drink with a slight shake of his hand. Steve shook his head back, seeing that Walt could use the fluid more than him. There was still one bottle of water in the bag as he slung it back over his shoulder tucking his arms into the handles until it clung to his back like a backpack. Walt finished the water, tossing the bottle back behind him. It rolled down the stairs landing somewhere a few feet upwards. He stood with effort, rolling his wrist forward to Steve in a silent agreement that they should keep moving forward. He began back down the stairs, passing Steve in his own show of strength. Steve shook his head with a smile, following behind as he tugged his flashlight back from his belt.