Chapter Twenty-Two

"The Leap of Faith"

I was going in deeper and deeper. Down and down I went, forever and ever it seemed. That terrible, soulless wailing became stronger and more powerful by the second. Eventually it seemed as though there were more than one. Then, it was a chorus of cries, the lamenting howls of the damned. I couldn't help but wonder if I was coming down here to join them, to be a part of this hellish choir. In these close quarters, the cacophony reverberating and, if anything, intensifying as it assaulted my eardrums.

I started to run.

Then, I started to yell. That was it. I had become one of them. This descent was endless and there was no turning back. Not a chance of that. If I turn around to go back up, I go up and up forever. I knew it. I felt it. I felt like I passed through something, that I left even the barely relative normalcy of the world above. As bad as it was up there, down here would be worse. This I knew.

Down, down, down. I couldn't even hear myself yelling over the overbearing noise. It was so bad that I felt my equilibrium slipping. Dizziness crept into my vision, and with it, the earthbound corridor shifted slightly, then more, a full turn, and finally, twisted into knots. The flashlight led me into a sort of obscene optical illusion, the kind where one end of the hallway seems a lot smaller than the end you're looking from. It was disturbing and it made me feel very nauseous. Now I wasn't just yelling. Now I was actually crying. It seemed as though every time I felt certain I was either going to lose either my sanity or my life, I would survive mostly intact… only to find myself in an even worse situation. Maybe this would be the case now, but it sure as hell didn't feel like it, not then. This time, it felt like I was doomed to keep running and screaming and crying like a lunatic in a one-man parade until the last shreds of sanity ripped away, and I collapsed on the floor, a gibbering shell of myself, lying there with my eyes as wide as dinner plates, drooling on the floor and shivering until I either had a heart attack or starved to death. This was the only end to this descent. There was no other.

That turned out not to be the case, as I found out a few moments later. I was in such poor control of my body and mind at the moment that I didn't see the door and completely ran into it without even attempting to stop or slow down or even absorb the blow. I ran right into the door and bounced off of it hard, falling backwards onto the inclined floor, bouncing again when my ass hit the wet, moldy stone surface. It was more shock than pain, really, but the hideous racket didn't help matters at all. Finally, I pulled myself together, got back on my feet, and took stock of my situation.

Well, there was a door, and considering the dank, dungeon-like feel of this cave, or whatever the hell it was, the door looked completely out of place, anachronistic even. There was nothing really extraordinary about the door, it was your standard metal deal that I had seen perhaps a dozen times today alone. It was painted white and streaked with coppery rust stains. What was unusual was that it was here at all, a hundred feet below sea level at least. My sense of direction wasn't exactly in top working order at the moment. I didn't think this tunnel angled towards the lake at all, but if it did, I'd be pretty far underneath it right now, and directly so.

And perhaps I could ponder that after I went through. I didn't have the slightest idea where I would find myself now. The only possibility would be some kind of hardcore survivalist's bomb shelter or something of the sort. Only one way to find out .

The door pushed open on joints so ancient and rusty that I could hear them over the din behind me, and very clearly. It was just as noisy closing as opening, but, oh saints be praised, when I closed the door, I closed out the sounds of the cave along with it, at least, for the most part. I didn't think the door seemed that thick, but I didn't care, really. I'd take what I could get right then. Now it sounded like noisy machinery in a distant room instead of an experimental scramjet engine five inches from my face.

I found myself in a small room with a desk and a slateboard. There was something written on the slateboard, though so old and worn-out that I could barely decipher it. There was an in-out box on the desk, with only a single sheet of very old paper sitting in the In-box. Wasn't very informative, but it was rather interesting nonetheless, mostly because it was dated September 11th, 1820, and because the next line read "Prisoner Number: C221". Prisoners, down here? Sure, why not? A hundred-foot-deep hole in the ground is a fantastic place to break a man's spirit. God knows it was working wonders on me so far.

There was a door directly across from the one I entered, and through it I went. It led into a hallway or sorts. The part directly in front of me was framed in iron bars, though the cage had a door and it was wide open. So, a prison it was. The date on that memo back there, 1820… certainly wasn't a recent one, even in the relative lifespan of this prison. There were several indications that this facility was in use in considerably more modern times than the early 19th century, notable among them the florescent lights that lined the center of the ceiling up and down the hall. They weren't on, but they weren't a hundred and seventy years off, either.

There were several more doors leading away from the hall. Three of them didn't even have doorknobs. Two did have doorknobs that didn't work. Only one door opened, one that was alone at the twisty end of the hall.

It opened into a very small, very empty room. The walls were bare yellow, the shade of which indicated that the walls were originally white. The floor was dirty, and it was there that the singular object of interest was to be found.

There was a hole cut into the ground. It wasn't natural, for it was perfectly square-shaped. Complete darkness swallowed the beam of my flashlight. If the hole had a bottom, I couldn't see it.

In the corner of the room was a small pile of rock and cinder. I picked up one of the larger chunks of rock and tossed it right down the center of the pit. It vanished out of sight in less than a second, but many seconds later, I was still poised over top of the hole, listening for the sound of the rock hitting the ground. The room was perfectly silent, so there was no way I could miss it. I gave up after a full minute. I never heard a thing.

So, now what? There was no turning back, that much was obvious. Maybe it would be possible to go back up that incredibly long passage. Maybe not. But there was no way, no chance that I would be able to make it through there anyway, not with that terrible noise. It damn near made me lose it the first time, and it still rang in my ears now. If I had to go back through it again, that would almost certainly pluck that last string tying me to my right mind.

And yet, the other option was to jump down a bottomless hole. Of course, no hole is really bottomless. This one was bound to be no exception. Why, I was certain it had a bottom, probably one that was really hard, too. Perfect for a broken leg or neck or spine. I had the wonderfully pleasant thought of me striking some kind of debris at the bottom of the pit with my back, shattering a vertebra or two, and lying there completely immobile, screaming but unable to move a muscle below my neck. If I was lucky, I would die of my injuries shortly after that. If I wasn't so lucky, I'd be dinner for some kind of monster lurking around down there. If I were really unlucky, neither would happen. I would survive the fall and survive it alone, thus allowing me to dehydrate and starve to death over a long stretch of time unmolested.

And as unpleasant as all that was, I didn't completely rule it out right away, because my mind took a very quick run all the back to Neely's Bar, and the message left on the newspapered window in blood-red paint.

There was a HOLE here. It's gone now.

Holes don't get gone unless they're filled in, and I sure as hell saw no evidence of that in the bar.

That's right, Sunderland. The HOLE's gone because the HOLE moves. It stays out of sight and pops up suddenly, like a rich uncle you never met who dies and leaves you a million bucks. Ain't that just something? Ain't that just a hell of a HOLE?

That message had to mean something. There was that one directed to me, and there was the one about the doorway on Katz. They both meant something. So, did that mean I was supposed to jump down here? It was such a god damn crazy thing to even think about, but what else could I do? My nameless friend mentioned a missing hole and directed me to a new one. My nameless friend also apparently had it out for me, though I couldn't understand why.

I stood on the very edge of the hole, looking down into the endless dark and holding a furious internal debate regarding whether or not I should jump. I guess under normal circumstances, I would really be asking some serious questions about myself right now. Under normal circumstances I wouldn't even give a second's consideration towards leaping into a bottomless pit.

Circumstances obviously were not normal.

And so, before my rational mind had a fair chance to object and make me stop myself, I closed my eyes and leapt into the pit, softly enough so that I fell down the center and away from the sides. I have never in my life experienced anything like a free-fall before, and it's exhilarating, utterly, completely exciting. I'm sure that in a controlled environment it would have been a hell of a lot of fun, but when you have no safety harness and no idea how far you have to drop and no idea what you'll be landing on, you're a little too busy being terrified to concern yourself with having any fun. I couldn't keep my eyes shut, either. I had to look down, I couldn't help it. Whatever I was going to land on, be it a pool of soft water or perhaps a snake pit like in the movies, I had to see. It was rubbernecking your own impending car accident.

So I fell. Down, down, down. Nothing but darkness below, darkness and uncertainty. I tried so hard not to be afraid, but the longer I fell, the harder it became, and I broke. I started screaming, yelling hoarsely and wordlessly as a whole slew of worst-case scenarios played out in my mind in fast-forward. All I could think about was

Oh my God, oh my God, what the hell was I thinking? I'm gonna land on rocks, maybe even sharp ones and they'll break my body into shattered little pieces oh God oh for the love of God whatever happens just BRING IT TO AN END

I don't know what happened next. I sure as hell didn't feel my body hitting the ground. I don't remember anything after the fall. For that matter, I don't remember not falling. I guess I was in such a strained state of mind that I blacked out or something.

When I came to, I was yelling still. I don't know how long I had been out of it. Maybe I had never really stopped yelling. My eyesight was a little crossed, and I had to blink my eyes several times to bring them back. Then, I had to actually make an effort to close my mouth and stop yelling, before I drove myself insane. It was hard, but I did manage that much.

I was flat on my back, staring straight up into the darkness through which I fell. My mind boggled just thinking about how far I had fallen. I felt like I had only been out for a few minutes at most, but my neck felt sore and tingly, so it must have been longer. My neck also felt wet, as did my hair. Must have landed in some water, though there wasn't much of it. No matter, it was time to get up and check things out.

I tried to push myself up with my arms. I couldn't.

Terror shot through me like electricity as my worst fear suddenly seemed to hit home, my fear of paralysis and a long, lingering death in this damp hellhole. Frantically, I thrashed my head around, in a state of total panic. I yelled for help, even though I knew that was a laugh and a half.

Yet again though, the metaphorical cavalry arrived just in time to keep my sanity from vacating the premises. As I lay there whipping around like a fish out of water, my brain finally forced my recalcitrant limbs back into service. My screams for help became a wordless, euphoric cry of relief as my arms and legs suddenly came to life and flew around along with my head. Quickly, I leapt to my feet and checked to make sure everything was still in working order. And of course, everything was.

However, it only took five seconds of looking around my new surroundings for my euphoria to fizzle out in a most painful way. For you see, I was in a pit. Now, I know I came down here of my own free will, but holy shit, I think a part of me wanted, hoped, hell, expected something to be down here. So far in my little adventure, there always was something.

Which isn't to say there was nothing at all here. There was a puddle on the ground and walls made out of brick so old and so long in this dampness that they had completely turned green. Said wall circled the entire area I was in, which was round and maybe ten feet wide. It extended vertically out of sight.

And that was it. Water on the ground and a brick wall. A brick wall that was completely brick from A to Z. No door. No window. No escape.

I heard the howl, heard it loud and clear. It was pregnant with anger, with fearful frustration, with dry hopelessness. It was strange to think I was hearing it as an observer, for it was my own tortured, cracking voice that was echoing about the moldy confines of my prison.

I don't know how long it took, but eventually my voice just gave out, and when it did, it was as if my will crapped out right along with it. I wasn't going to find Mary now, unless she thought to drop in and say hello. I laughed at that thought. It was so crazy to think I would come here to this place and find her. That such an insane task would lead me right to where I am, a nasty, stinking wet hole hundreds of feet under the ground. What a way to go. I was up to my knees in irony, but at the moment, I just couldn't find it in myself to appreciate that, because I was up to my neck in something considerably worse.

I slumped back against the wall and slid down its slimy surface until I landed on my butt. When my back struck the wall, my breath popped out like an uncorked bottle of champagne. My eyes stared straight ahead but they weren't really seeing anything. My mind was in some kind of working order, enough to let me think. I didn't really think as much as I simply wondered. I wondered if anyone would ever find me down here someday. I wondered if I would starve or dehydrate first. I wondered if desperation would eventually bring me to drink the rancid, muddy water that had collected down here.

I didn't know. I didn't want to know.

I rested my head against the wall. One of the stones wiggled against the pressure. It was loose. It irritated me, and I was in no sweet mood to begin with. At first I ignored it, but it kept wobbling and wouldn't allow me to keep my head still. Finally I got so fed up with it, and everything else, that I reached around and yanked on it.

I suspected the brick would have come loose eventually, but I didn't expect it would happen as quickly or as easily as it did. As such, I pulled harder than I should have and the brick slid out with practically no resistance. The excess force made me overbalance and fall, and the slippery piece of masonry slipped out of my hand.

I got back up and examined the wall. To my slight amusement, I found that much of the brickwork in this little stretch was coming apart. Some of the bricks had crumbled outright. A few of them came away when I pulled on them.

Then my eyes lit up like god damn Christmas trees.

The brick was only one layer thick. And behind that one layer was metal.

Couldn't be…

I rapped on the metal with my fist. The rapping noise was muffled a bit, but it was still sharp. That could only mean one thing.

There was nothing behind the metal.

Before I even thought twice, I had the pipe in both hands, thrusting away at the crumbling masonry. My mind ran in neutral for God knows how long as my arms pumped and the pipe chipped bricks and knocked them out of the way. I did this in a horizontal line at about waist level. The metal, whatever it was, spanned only about four feet or so, because after I had gotten that far, there was more stone behind what I was dislodging. I banged the metal with the pipe, and was thoroughly satisfied to hear a loud, barking report. Hope swelled within me. I fought hard to suppress it. No telling whether or not there really was anything behind it, or if I would even be able to move it enough to find out.

There was a gap between the weak wall and the metal behind it, maybe an inch or two. I jammed the pipe into this gap, in the middle of the area I had cleared. I placed a foot on the solid part of the rubble below and pulled on the handle of the pipe with all of my might. I grunted with exertion. It was stronger than I thought.

When it came down, it came down hard and without warning. There was no give, no bending of any sort. One second I was heaving my entire weight against the masonry, the next second I was backpedaling uncontrollably, finally tripping and falling ass over teakettle across the floor of the pit.

I was stunned for a second, but only about that long. Quickly, I pulled myself to my feet and inspected the wall. What I saw almost made me scream again, only this time in pure, bright joy instead of fear.

The metallic object behind the wall was a door. By God and Jesus, someone had bricked over a door. I couldn't even begin to figure out why. Hell, I couldn't even begin to care why. I was just thrilled to see it there. I was thrilled to know I wasn't going to sit in this rancid hole until my body finally just stopped working weeks from now. It brought to mind one of Mom's favorite sayings.

"You can pray to God all you want, Jimmy," she told me one summer afternoon when I mentioned that I was praying for a Red Sox victory against New York. "God might give you what you pray for, yeah, and maybe he won't either." Mom was a Catholic born and a Catholic bred, so of course, almost all of her sayings were related. This one was no different.

Then she placed her hand on my shoulder and gave me a funny little sardonic smile. "You can bet your rear-end though, if he does give you what you pray for, he's going to make sure you appreciate it." Considering that the Sox still haven't won the Series yet, I guess that was immediately prophetic. But, it also applied now, as I found out. I got what I wanted, a way out. All it cost me was a little extra heartache, and of course, a little extra sanity. I had more of that to lose than I would have ever thought before yesterday, that's for damn certain.

God, if you're still listening, thanks. I do appreciate it. And I'll appreciate anything else you see fit to do to help me here, in advance.

I don't know if that was going to work or not. But as my hands gripped the handle of the door and pulled it open, I couldn't help but remember that it didn't hurt to try.

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