Chapter Twelve: An Adventure Gone Bad
"Hey Becky?"
"Yeah?" She replied between gasps for air.
"You up for a little adventure?"
"I'm up for breakfast," she answered.
"I'm serious."
"So am I," she replied.
"We'll get breakfast later. Now, are you up for a little adventure?"
Becky nodded. "I don't have much of a choice, now do I? What are you scheming?"
"I want to go down to the third cellar and see where Joseph Buquet's body was found."
"The management is going to love that request."
"The management doesn't need to know," I replied mysteriously.
"What do you mean?" She asked, her voice trembling with nerves.
In all honesty, the plan was only somewhat hatched in my mind, but there was no reason for her to know I didn't think the entire thing through. "Didn't Richard say not to bother him?"
"If you say so," she replied uneasily. "Remember I don't understand French. But still I don't think what you're planning is a good idea. I mean what if something happens?"
"What could possibly happen?" I asked, knowing full well I was allowing my reckless and adventurous nature to outweigh common sense.
"Anything."
"What's the matter Becky, you chicken?" I asked, with enough challenge in my voice to dissuade her from not going along with me.
"No, I'm not chicken," she retorted. "I just don't see a need to put our lives in danger."
"Chicken," I repeated, knowing full well I was acting juvenile. Truth be told, I was scared to go alone and I knew if I bullied Becky enough she'd go with me. "What, you're suddenly scared of ghosts?"
"No," she countered. "Besides you don't even know how to get to the cellars."
I looked around me and noticed several doors. "One of these must lead to the basement."
"Did anyone ever tell you you're like Tom Sawyer, with all your stupid and unthought-out plans?"
"I'll take that as a compliment," I replied with a smile. "Come on, if I'm Tom, then you have to be Huck and you know what that means right?"
She shook her head. "No, what does that mean?"
"You've got to do whatever I say and go wherever I go just like Tom and Huck."
She groaned. "Me and my big mouth."
"Now come on," I said selecting a door at random.
"Wait a minute!"
"What now?" I asked, my sense of adventure growing.
"Won't it be dark down there?"
"Yeah, you're right. We need some sort of ligh…"
"A flashlight?" Becky volunteered.
I shook my head. "A good idea, but they haven't been invented yet. We need to get our hands on a dark lantern."
"Where are we going to find that?" Becky asked, a small ray of hope crept into her voice at the prospect of not having to venture into the unknown.
I said nothing for several minutes, attempting to figure out a way to go around the small obstacle that was blocking my path to satisfying my curiosity.
Suddenly, it hit me! I grabbed my best friend by the wrist and ignoring her curses and protestations, pulled her along until we reached the grand staircase.
"What are we doing here? We're leaving?"
I shook my head and motioned for her to be quite. This Tom Sawyer had a good and practical idea. I dragged my friend up the grand staircase and opened the door that was marked auditorium. I poked my head through the open door and spied several workmen on the stage, working furiously dismantling one of the elaborate sets that dominated the stage.
"Pardon moi," I said stepping through the door and dragging my friend behind me.
One of the workmen looked up; the rest ignored me and continued what they were doing.
"Bonjour," the workman said with a slight smile.
I approached the stage and got a better look at the workman, and couldn't help but notice his good looks.
"Bonjour," he repeated.
"Bonjour," I replied. "Do you know where I can find a dark lantern?"
He raised one of his jet black eyebrows. "Why do you need a dark lantern?"
"Monsieur Richard, wants moi et mon amie," I said motioning to Becky, "to go down into the cellars to get something."
The workman gasped. "Don't you know the ghost lives in the cellars?"
I chuckled. "Only if you believe such childish nonsense."
"Oh it is factual Mademoiselle," he said, his face suddenly grew grave. "Monsieur Buquet saw the ghost, and the ghost killed him. He went down into the cellars and he met his death."
"I'm sure there is a perfectly logical explanation for Monsieur Buquet's death," I said dryly. "However, we do not have time to discuss it now. The dark lantern, if you wouldn't mind."
The workman scratched his head and walked off, muttering something about how women should know their places. He returned some moments later carrying the lantern I requested.
"Here," he said handing it to me. "Do you know how to get to the cellars?"
I shook my head. "Non."
"Come along then," he said wiping his hands on his trouser legs.
Becky and I followed him to the right of the stage. We stopped in front of a door. "Open that door and you will see stairs. Take those stairs as far down as you need to go. Do not stay down there any longer than you have to and beware of the ghost."
I thanked the man and watched him return to the stage. I opened the door and crossed the threshold, closing the door behind us.
There was just enough light to see the stairs. I opened the cover of the dark lantern, which was thankfully lit and used it narrow beam to navigate my way to the staircase.
"Mac," Becky said, her hand closing tightly on my wrist. "I don't think this is a good idea."
"We've come to far to back off now. I'm not leaving here until I get a look at that third cellar. Now stop being a feeb and come on."
"I'm not being a feeb!"
"Then shut up and come on," I growled, pulling her forward.
When there were no more protests from my friend, I extricated myself from her grasp and began walking down the stairs.
We began our slow descent into the bowels of the opera house. By the time we reached the first landing, we were in nearly total darkness. If it weren't for the dark lantern, we would have been plunged in total blackness.
'Bonjour! I have been waiting for you to venture down here! After your chat with Mademoiselle Daaé, I knew it wouldn't be long before we met.'
"What the hell was that?" Becky asked grabbing my arm tightly.
I refused to admit the trill of fear the mysterious voice sent through my body. With the aid of the dark lantern, I looked around the cellar for the source of the mysterious words. All I saw were various used props lying around collecting dust.
'Do you think it is wise coming down here, knowing it was my realm?' The disembodied voice asked.
"Mac, I really don't like this!"
Neither do I! I'm scared to death right about now. In fact, if I hadn't been so adamant about coming down here, I'd be sprinting for the stairs as you speak. But no, I had to be the big brave adventurer! All right Mac, you've dug your grave, now lie in it.
I refused to tell Becky that I was wrong about venturing into the cellars unaccompanied, because I didn't want to face her ridicule and her 'I-told-you-so' attitude. "Look, we're only on the first landing. A few of the stage crew know we're down here, so I bet it's just them trying to scare us." God, how I wish I believe those words!
Before my friend could reply, the voice once again spoke, but this time with more venom. 'Mademoiselle, a very good guess, however you are incorrect. Another wrong assumption down here could be the death of you. I strongly advise you to turn back and return to the world of daylight.'
I ventured forward, my knees trembling horribly. "I will not let some disembodied voice intimidate me! I came down here to see where Buquet was hung and that's what I'm gonna do!" My speech would have been really powerful if my voice wasn't shaking with fear. However, there was no way I could keep any feeling of pride if I backed out now.
Slowly, I began to inch forward, despite the darkness that was closing around me like water. The light from the dark lantern barely penetrated the heavy shadows.
After several minutes of searching, I finally found another staircase. Tentatively, I stepped forward and grasped the handrail. When I reached the second cellar, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I had the strange feeling that I was being watched, stalked like some kind of prey. I shuddered in spite of myself and fervently wished I had thought this plan out logically before embarking on it.
I jumped when I heard a loud crash, which was followed by maniacal laughter.
"Mac come on, let's turn back. I swear I won't call you a feeb!" Becky pleaded. It's still odd to me how your best friend can read your innermost thoughts.
"I can't turn back now," I said, filling my voice with determination. "We're so close!" In reality, I was to scared to turn and run back, because I didn't know what the mysterious voice would do if we tried to retreat.
I pressed forward and descended even further into the cellars. When we reached the third cellar, the voice once again spoke.
'I must commend you on your audacity. Not many people ignore the Angel of Death's warnings. You and your detective friend will be most formidable opponents. If you are going to search for clues regarding Joseph Buquet's death, I leave you with a warning. If you search to hard or too long, a misfortune will befall one of you. Heed my advice and leave!'
"What did he say?"
"He welcomed us to his world of night," I lied. I didn't need Becky to totally panic on me and that's what she would do if she knew the real translation of what was said.
"Okay genius, now that we're down here, what exactly are we going to do?"
I resisted the urge to shrug my shoulders. I'd think of something and quick. "We're gonna look around and hopefully, shed some light on how Buquet was killed. There is no way in hell that I'm gonna let some voice stop me from showing that I am intelligent, resourceful and totally worthy of Mr. Holmes's full confidence."
"Great, now is a swell time to decide to show up the great detective," Becky said, her sarcasm was laced with fear.
I lifted the dark lantern and held it high above my head, causing its feeble light to penetrate as much darkness as possible.
There were a lot of huge cobwebs and dilapidated bits of scenery strewn on the floor. The entire cellar reminded me of some type of strange graveyard, where sets were just disregarded and left to rot. The sepulchral silence increased my sense of feeling like I was in an old tomb.
My eyes, in their idle roving, fell upon a set that was precariously leaning against one of the cellar walls. A long piece of wood jutted out of it like, making it look eerily like a hangman's gallows. Thinking that was where Buquet's body could have been found, I handed Becky the dark lantern and strode purposefully towards it.
"Mac, stop, it doesn't look sturdy."
"Shut up and hold the light still," I said putting one foot on the bottom step of the false staircase. Being naturally stubborn, I disregarded all of my best friend's warnings and continued up the façade.
I was only three steps away from getting a closer look at the jutting wood. I raised my foot to mount another step when I heard Becky call out.
"Mac, stop!"
Before I could totally register Becky's shout, my foot was on the stair and the staircase gave way under my weight! I fell through the set, with several planks of wood falling on top of me. Once the avalanche of wood and metal ceased, I attempted to move, but to my dismay, I found myself painfully pinned against the floor. Searing pain ran through my body and the weight on my chest from the wood was making it nearly impossible to breathe.
"Mac!" I heard Becky shout my name. "Mac, where are you?"
I attempted to cry out to her, but I couldn't find sufficient breath to do so. I was already hearing a faint wheeze coming from my chest, indicating the beginning of an asthma attack and was steadily growing more nervous.
Mac, deep breaths, come on Mac, you can fight this.
My mantra wasn't working and I could feel my airways constrict. I was in serious trouble!
"Mac! Mac! Where the hell are you? Come on, damn it! Stop playing around!"
"I…I'm…I'm over here," I managed to wheeze out. My chest grew tighter and the lack of air to my lungs was already making my head swim.
"Mac!"
I saw the light of the dark lantern nearing and I attempted to call to my friend, but all that exited my mouth was a strangled cry.
"Oh shit! Mac, are you all right?" Becky was standing directly over me and in the feeble light, I could see her face blanche.
"N-no," I wheezed.
"Asthma attack?" She asked nervously.
I attempted to nod.
"Where's your medication?"
"I…can't get it…help…me…"
"All right, all right just relax," she said making her way towards me. "Okay I just gotta move some of this...Shit! It's heavy! Mac, I can't move any of this lumber and metal off you!"
I'm screwed! I'm gonna die here and it's all because of my stupid impetuousness. "G-Get h-help."
"Help, yeah that's it! I'll get help! Okay Mac, keep breathing. I'll be right back I swear! Don't you die on me!"
"G-go!"
"I'll be right back," she said grabbing the dark lantern and running back the way we came.
Breath was becoming nearly impossible and my vision was quickly washing to black. I attempted to focus on breathing, but couldn't. If Becky didn't get back soon, I'd be a goner.
I don't know how long she was gone, for every minute seemed like an eternity, but when the last amount of strength seemed to leave my body, I heard voices. I saw the light of the dark lantern once again and saw the tall, strong figure of a man standing over me. Then, everything went black.
