The Twilight Prisoner (3 page)

“This way,” said Jack, pointing to a set of maroon doors. They were standing in the basement of Schermerhorn, the four-story brick-and-stone building at Columbia University that Jack's father worked in. The long basement hallway was empty, and the only sound was the buzz of the lights above their heads. Against the wall were faculty mailboxes, including one with his father's name on it.

“This is totally creepy,” said Cora with an impish smile.

Jack did a quick check to make sure no one else was in the hallway, then pushed open the doors revealing a second, narrower hall lined with gray industrial-looking lockers. He had noticed it once before when a janitor had left the maroon doors ajar. On the left, just past the lockers, was an open door. Inside it was a room lined with thick white pipes and electrical pumps that breathed heavily in and out. A set of gray cement stairs led down into it. “I'm pretty sure this is an entrance to the tunnel system,” Jack said. “If we follow it across campus we should be able to get into the basement of the Pupin building, where the cyclotron is.”

“I thought you said you'd been there before,” said Austin.

Jack shrugged as he started down the stairs. “I went a different way.”

“This'll be fun,” said Cora. She held the bouquet of narcissus upside down, but Jack didn't mind. At least she still had them. “Ellen is going to be so sad she didn't come,” she added.

At the bottom of the stairs, Jack spotted another door that led into a passageway. Huge steam pipes lined the ceiling, and a few naked bulbs illuminated the red brick walls. It seemed to extend on and on, narrowing into the darkness. “How far does it go?” asked Cora as she peered down it.

“Pretty far,” said Jack vaguely. As Cora and Austin walked ahead of him, he pulled the
Unofficial Guide
out of his backpack and opened it up. Inside the back cover he had carefully folded a copy of Egbert Viele's topographical map of New York. Viele had been the city's top engineer, and the map, which he drafted in 1865, was his masterpiece. It showed all the streams and rivers that had ever existed in Manhattan. On his trip to the underworld, Jack had discovered that Viele's map also included secret underground rivers and streams that could be used to get in or out of the underworld. But they were never marked, and certain rules had to be followed—for example, having a golden bough—to use them.

Jack studied the map and found 119th and Amsterdam, where Schermerhorn was. There were no rivers or streams beneath it, but there was one, he noticed, that began a block to the north and west under Pupin.

When he looked up, Austin and Cora had wandered deeper into the tunnel and were staring at something on the wall. Jack hurried over to them and found that they were reading some graffiti neatly written in white paint.

The Road goes ever on and on Down from the door where it began.


“Hey, isn't that from
The Lord of the Rings
?” said Cora.

Jack nodded. “It's the hobbit walking song.”

“My brother loved those books,” said Austin.

Cora turned to look at him. “I didn't know you had a brother.”

Jack didn'tlike the surprised tone of Cora'svoice, as ifshe had already secretly learned everything about Austin. But Jack noticed that Austin, too, looked taken aback by Cora's tone. Perhaps he didn't like her as much as Jack feared.

Austin touched the graffiti gently with his fingertips.

“Is he older?” Cora prodded. “Did he go to Chapman, too?”

Austin nodded but didn't offer any details. “Come on,” Jack said, waving them forward. “Let's find the cyclotron.”

But the passageway, Jack thought, was pretty interesting, too. Some of the pipes also had graffiti on them. In several places, loose electrical wires hung from between them like small black snakes. A few of the pipes gurgled softly overhead, as if they were in the midst of digesting something large inside them. The passageway was neat and clean-swept, though they occasionally saw unlabeled metal barrels, coils of hoselike tubing, and what looked like wooden door frames propped against the walls.

“You guys are so good at Latin,” Austin said in his usual laid-back tone. “Why do I have to bust my butt for a B?”

“Nemo Romanus adest qui locutionem tuam corrigant,”
said Cora.

Not one Roman is around to correct your pronunciation.

Jack grinned.

Austin looked confused, but as he slowly translated the line, he started to smile. “Mr. O'Quinn is tougher than any Roman.”

“I can help you,” Cora offered.

Austin looked at her and smiled. “That would be really great.”

“I could help you, too,” Jack said. He didn't really want to help Austin, but he didn't like the idea of Cora being alone with him.

Just then, the passageway intersected with another one. Jack hesitated. He knew that Pupin, the building with the cyclotron, was northwest of his father's building, but he had lost his sense of direction underground. Taking a guess, he pointed at the passageway that veered left. “It's this way.”

This next passageway had lower ceilings and the pipes were smaller. Threads of yellow insulation hung off them. As they ventured deeper into it, Jack stopped to show Cora how in some places the mortar had crumbled, the bricks had loosened, and underneath it were big rough-hewn stones. “Probably the original foundation,” he said.

Austin peered down the passageway. “Are you sure we're going the right way?”

There was an uncertain, even worried, note in Austin's voice, and Jack hoped that Cora had also noticed it. “Of course I'm sure.”

Cora pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. “There's no way we can get lost down here,” she remarked. “Mine still works. But this passageway looks really old.”

“What time is it?” asked Jack.

Cora looked at her phone. “Almost six thirty.”

Outside, Jack realized, the sun had set.

Cora suddenly grinned. “I wonder if there are ghosts down here.”

“What?” said Jack, glancing around.

“Ghosts! Like whoooooooo . . . Look at the two of you!”

Jack looked at Austin. His eyes were wide, but when he caught Jack looking at him, he smiled sheepishly.

“Whoooo,” Cora continued, laughing.

“Elocution lessons,” a man's voice intoned from behind him. “An excellent moral treatment for the patients.”

Jack swung around. A stooped man with a pinched, pale face was floating toward them through the tunnel. Accompanying him was an older, plump man with glasses. “So, Dr. Earle, you advise it along with exercise and weekly lectures?” he asked.

“And parties and dancing,” Dr. Earle continued. “At Bloomingdale we believe in treating our patients as if they were still in the enjoyment of the healthy exercise of their mental faculties. Now, tell me about your own work.”

The ghosts seemed largely unaware of Jack's presence—and ignored Cora and Austin as well. But Jack didn't want to take any chances. He dug the pouch of ghost repellent out of his backpack and held it in the air.

The effect was instantaneous. Austin and Cora covered their noses, and from behind him, Jack heard gagging and coughs.

“What is that smell?” demanded the plump ghost.

Cora pointed to the pouch. “What
is
that?”

“That's it! That's what I smelled before,” said Austin, waving his hand in the air.

Jack turned, expecting the ghosts to flee, but they just stood there waving their hands over their noses. “If you weren't dead,” the plump ghost said to Dr. Earle, “I might have thought that was you.”

The two ghosts erupted into laughter. Jack felt mortified. He looked at Cora and then at the pouch in his hands. “It's just, uh, my allergy medication. It's . . . homeopathic.”

“You never told me you had allergies,” Cora said. She held up the limp bouquet of narcissus. “Is it the flowers?”

“I can't take it anymore,” said the plump man. “Shall we head back to your office?”

Dr. Earle wrinkled his nose. “A fine idea.”

The two ghosts floated hastily in the opposite direction.

“No, it's not the flowers,” Jack said. “It's ...to invisible things.”

Austin grimaced. “My mother's like that—with dust mites. But she takes some prescription stuff. I know it doesn't smell like that.”

“Sorry,” mumbled Jack. He shoved the pouch back into his pocket. The ghost repellent had worked . . . sort of. The ghosts had left him alone, but he noticed that Cora and Austin had also backed away from him. The pouch wasn't going to be a practical method of keeping ghosts away unless he wanted to keep the living away, as well. He continued down the passageway, Cora and Austin following at a safe distance. He needed to find the entrance to Pupin soon so they would forget about the smell. He hoped the electromagnet looked as impressive as he imagined. He would have to explain why there was no party tonight, but he knew it wouldn't matter much to Cora, anyway. He visualized the door to Pupin—imagining white letters stenciled on it—and hoped it would appear. But there were no doors along this passageway. Up ahead, Jack noticed that the ground turned dark and shimmery, and as he got closer, he realized it was wet.

“It's flooded,” Austin said. “Maybe we should turn back.”

But Jack barely heard him. The tunnel wasn't flooded. They had found the underground stream on the Viele map. He saw the bony, old face of a man with a scruffy beard reflected in the water.

“Great,” Austin whispered. “Now the janitor's busted us.”

The old man, who was dressed in a dark green uniform that read Columbia University Janitorial Staff, stared soundlessly at the three of them. Then he held out one sinewy hand.

Even though he was dressed differently from the last time Jack had seen him, Jack instantly recognized Charon, the gatekeeper to the underworld. According to the
Unofficial Guide
, a living person could only see Charon, and be offered entry into the underworld, if he possessed a golden bough. Jack knew they must have the golden bough with them, but he hadn't seen anything shine or sparkle. He rooted through his backpack. All he could find were the remaining bills from his father, the ghost repellent pouch, and the
Unofficial Guide
. None of them looked like a golden bough.

“What does he want?” Cora whispered behind him.

“I think he wants us to go,” Austin said.

“I think you're right,” said Cora.

She turned to leave. But Jack couldn't let her. Before he could stop himself, he grabbed Cora's elbow. She started and dropped the bouquet of narcissus, which scattered across the ground. “Let's go a little farther,” he said.

“Jack, are you crazy?” Cora whispered. “The janitor is right...” She turned around to look at Charon, but he was no longer standing in front of them. Instead, he had squatted down and picked up three of the yellow narcissus, which he wound in a piece of string and stuck in his front pocket. With a smile full of broken teeth, he stood up, waded through the water, and disappeared down the tunnel.

“That was completely weird,” Cora said when they could no longer see him.

They were in—all of them. Jack hesitated at the edge of the stream. All they had to do was walk across the water, and he could show Cora something more amazing than the cyclotron: a place where he had powers that no other living person had.

But then he reminded himself of the underworld guards always searching for living intruders with the help of Cerberus, the three-headed, flesh-eating dog.
Turn around
, Jack told himself.
Take Cora home
. But she wouldn't want to go home, he reminded himself. She'd want to go to Austin's. And if she went to Austin's fancy apartment, there would be no chance of winning her back. Jack looked at her. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and her dark eyes studied his. He could just take her for a few minutes and bring her back when they were done.

“Come on,” he said, holding out his hand to her. “There's something I want to show you.”

“Do you know that old guy?” Cora asked.

“Sort of,” said Jack. “Anyway, he won't bother us anymore. Come on, we're almost there.” He took Cora's hand. It was warm and a little bit sweaty. She didn't look surprised, and Jack suddenly wished he'd had the courage to grab her hand before. “Ready?” he said as he led her into the flooded part of the tunnel.

The lukewarm water seeped into their shoes, but Jack was barely aware of it. All he could feel was Cora's hand in his own. He couldn't bear to look at her directly, so he glanced at her reflection in the water. “You're crazy,” she said, but Jack detected a hint of admiration in her voice.

“Maybe we should head back now,” Austin called from behind them.

Jack turned to see that Austin was still standing in the dry part of the tunnel. “It's not much farther,” Jack said.

Austin hesitated, then sloshed his way toward them through the water.

“You know I never get scared,” Cora boasted.

“I didn't think you were.”

Cora lowered her voice. “I think Austin is, though.”

“Just a little,” whispered Jack, trying hard not to sound happy.

“I wonder why he's never mentioned his brother before?”

Jack felt briefly annoyed. “I don't know. Maybe they don't get along.”

“Maybe,” said Cora. She whispered in Jack's ear, “Or maybe something happened to him.”

The water grew shallower. Another ten feet and they were back on dry ground. This part of the passageway looked much the same as it had before: low piping, old stone foundation, narrow walls. Jack continued on for a little while, following the tunnel around a bend, just in case any guards were on watch duty by the water's edge. But he also needed time to gather his courage. He hoped that what he was about to do was just like riding a bicycle—easy to remember after a long break—because he knew it would impress Cora more than anything that Austin could ever do.

Finally, when the flooded part of the tunnel was out of sight, he stopped. “I'm going to show you something now, but don't get frightened,” he told Cora.

She put one hand on her hip. “I told you I don't get frightened. Maybe of Mr. O'Quinn a little, but that's about it.”

Austin caught up with them. “So where's the cyclotron? Are we there?”

Jack ignored him. “Promise me?” he asked Cora.

“I promise. What are you going to do?”

“And keep holding my hand.”

She laughed. “It's pretty clammy.”

Jack closed his eyes. He tried to picture himself floating, but the ground felt solid beneath his feet.

“What are you doing?” Austin asked. “That janitor guy—”

Just then, Jack heard Cora gasp. He opened his eyes. She was looking down at her feet, which floated several inches above the ground. Jack was floating too.

Austin's mouth fell open and he took a step backward. “What the—?”

“Jack, how did you do that?” Cora shrieked.

“Magic,” said Jack.

Austin shook his head, as if snapping himself out of a trance. “This is crazy,” he said.

Jack ignored him, and taking Cora's other hand, began to dance her down the tunnel, spinning her around faster and faster, as they floated above the ground. Austin began to back away.

“Tell the truth,” she begged, laughing and kicking her feet in the air.

But Jack didn't want to explain the whole truth to her when they were having so much fun. He worried she would want to leave after she heard it. He spun her around faster, pulling her closer. He felt a sudden urge to kiss her. He closed his eyes.

“Well, if it isn't Fred and Ginger,” a familiar voice piped up from behind him.