Authors: Phil Tucker
A video cassette slipped out with
"#8"
written in Henry's writing on the label. "Huh," said Thomas. He turned it over slowly in his hands, his mouth suddenly dry. Henry, Julia, Eric, and the other kid about to go down into that dark stairwell. That sound. That photograph of somebody running away into the far reaches of a tunnel. Cut off, truncated, and here was tape #8. Setting it carefully aside, he reached into the envelope and pulled out a sheet of paper. A letter. Moving over to a stool, he sat down and began to read.
Hey Thomas,
I've spoken with Eric. Or, more accurately, he got back in touch with me. He is very serious about proving that he's not crazy. I was skeptical, but then he gave me this tape and told me to watch it. I don't know what to think now. Please watch this, and then give me a call.
Julia
Thomas frowned and reread the note. He finished his glass of orange juice and then rose and took the tape over to his television, where he leant down and slid it into the VCR. He stepped back, sidestepped the coffee table, and he lowered himself onto his leather couch and took up the remote control. He ran the tip of his finger over the plastic buttons, unsure. Did he really want to watch this? A premonition arose within him that bade him set the control down and think things over. To not act rashly. To not follow Eric's story further. He felt as if he stood on the cusp of something terrible, and thinking of Eric's sepulchral eyes, he was unsure if wanted to proceed. For a moment he hesitated, and then he took a breath and pressed Play.
Chapter 8
The television screen went black, and then showed the stairwell descending like a gullet into darkness. Several figures were walking down it, flashlight beams wandering before them. Thomas recognized Julia, Eric, the third kid. Henry was still holding the camera, it seemed, and then after a moment he began to descend after them, going quickly so as to catch up, the shot on the screen jerking up and down as the camera hiccuped in his hand.
The stairwell let out onto a corridor similar to those they had traversed above. Wallpaper blistered and peeling, empty doorways yawning into existence as their flashlights played over them. The floor was covered with curls of paint that had fallen from the ceiling, and their steps crackled and crunched faintly as they crept forward. Eric took the lead, moving cautiously, with Julia and their friend in the center. A flash of white as Julia turned to Henry, her gaze focusing on a point to the side of the camera, her face now devoid of humor, slightly tense.
They walked on, peering into rooms and opening the occasional door. Thomas thought of turning on his own lights to offset the creepiness he felt from the environs they were exploring, but then actually shook his head in irritation. It was just a video tape.
Eric paused, turned down a side corridor. A second turn, all of them moving in silence now. Then Eric stopped before a heavy iron door and turned to the camera.
"This should be the entrance to the boiler room. If we can open this up..." he turned and tried the handle, but it was stuck. He placed his shoulder to it and shoved hard. A horrid scraping sound filled the air, and the door budged. Eric tried again, and then a third time, and finally it shuddered open, revealing a large dark space beyond. Henry swung the camera around to check out the empty corridor behind them, and then back to the door. Eric had already stepped in, and the others followed.
"Goddamn," said the third kid. Jimmy. "This place is out of control." A massive boiler sat in one corner, a huge iron monstrosity buried under layers of rust, thick umbilical tubing emerging from it to plug into the walls and ceiling. It looked large enough to immolate a Cadillac inside, and there was a squat malevolence to it, to the almost organic curves and tubes that emerged from its ancient iron sides. The group fanned into the room, pausing to examine details, and Henry snapped off a few shots, the video swaying out of control during those moments to focus on the floor or strange angles of the wall.
"Okay, there should be another door back here," said Eric, stepping around a bank of what looked like warped high school lockers. Julia and Henry stepped after him, but then Henry paused to turn and gaze at where the third kid stood irresolute in the center of the room.
"Jimmy, you coming?" asked Henry. Jimmy's face was a pale smear. He turned and flashed his light back at the door through which they had entered and then nodded.
"Yeah, course I'm coming."
Henry panned back around and focused on where Eric was opening a heavy door that led into a narrow corridor.
"Here we go." Satisfaction in his voice. "This is one of the main steam tunnels. If we follow this thing, we should be able to get access to the other buildings. Even," he said, turning to look somberly at Julia, "the insane ward in Building Three that's been closed off since 1877."
"Get lost, Eric." Julia sounded at once amused and annoyed. "Insane ward, my ass."
"Insane ward?" asked Jimmy. "What insane ward?"
"Ignore him," said Julia. "He's just messing with us. Let's go already."
Eric grinned and stepped through into the tunnel, Julia following close behind. Henry's arm reached into the screen and clapped Jimmy on the shoulder as the other walked in after, and then the camera followed and they were in.
The steam tunnel was cramped and filled with large pipes painted in faded yellows and reds that ran through the center. There was enough room for them to walk along, but barely, and they had to duck so as to not hit their heads. Eric set off to the left, paused, and then made them all turn around and go to the right. Henry took the lead, his flashlight dancing along the crumbling cement walls, stopping occasionally to peer into small side tunnels down which random pipes would disappear.
They walked on in silence and stopped when the tunnel opened up into a large room. The pipes continued out into the room's center and then took a ninety-degree turn to extend down another tunnel.
Moving forward carefully, Henry panned the camera over the debris that covered the floor. Broken desks, staved in wooden boxes, rotten sackcloth and unidentifiable machine parts. All was dark and silent, disturbed only by the sound of their breathing.
"What is this place, Eric?" Henry flashed his light about until he discovered a door set at the top of a short stoop.
"Must be a basement of some sort. We should be below... building two, I think. I'm pretty sure if we can just open this door..." Eric began to wade forward, placing his feet carefully and picking his path around the detritus with confidence. How different, mused Thomas, was this Eric from the nervous, manic guy he had met in that white boarded house.
Eric reached the door, tried it, and found it locked. After a couple of futile shoves, he turned to the camera and gave a shrug. "Looks like a no go. Let's keep exploring."
"I don't know," said Jimmy. The camera swung onto him, flashlights causing him to close his eyes and bring his hand up to block the beams. "I mean, maybe we should just get out of here, you know? We've come pretty far, right? We can just call it quits and go to the Diner or something."
"Ah, come on Jimmy. Don't be a chicken shit." Eric didn't seem to consider Jimmy's suggestion worth considering; he was already picking his way toward a third tunnel he'd discovered in the left wall. "Listen, if you want, you can stay here and we'll pick you up on our way out." There was something malicious in Eric's tone, mild and slightly mocking.
"No, I mean, okay, I'll come." Jimmy glumly picked his way after Eric, frowning and staring morosely at the tunnel before them. "This place freaks me out, is all."
"Okay, this should lead us out under Building Four. That's the huge one that's all barred up on the west side, right? So if we follow this, we should be able to get in there, and we should be set."
"Yeah, okay, Eric," said Julia. She didn't seem to be enjoying herself any longer, but rather simply determined to see this through. "Let's just get going, yeah?"
Eric turned and shot her a strange look, his eyes glittering in the peripheral radiance of their flashlights, and then stepped into the tunnel. It was wider, had more pipes, and they scrambled and walked quickly along its length, Henry pausing occasionally to take more photographs. After a couple of minutes a handful of the larger pipes plunged into a cement wall, while the others continued along a now-much-smaller tunnel. Muttering, Henry turned sideways and began to follow the others, squeezing their way along until it opened up once more into a long chamber the end of which disappeared off into the darkness.
"Okay, we should be here." Eric turned to the group, face pensive as he gazed about. The room was large enough to cause his voice to echo slightly. "All we need to do now is find a door or something that'll lead us up. Let's look around."
This room was empty but for the pipes, which frayed and split like the strands at the end of an old knotted rope, each going into their own recess or nook. Henry and Julia walked along one wall, flashlight beams dancing before them, and then ducked behind a corner and the camera skewed off, wavering and pointing at the floor as the sound of their breathing mingled and they held each other. After a few moments Eric's voice called out from the distance and they stepped apart. Henry raised the camera and trained it on her face, and Thomas saw Julia's face heated with desire, her eyes heavy lidded and lips parted in an amused smile that curled into mock annoyance as she batted the camera aside and stepped in again for another kiss.
Thomas pressed Pause and rose to his feet. He stood irresolute for a moment, and then moved to the kitchen where he refilled the glass of juice. He raised the glass to his lips, and then set it down before he could take a sip. Where was Henry? Was he alive? Was he out there in Buffalo somewhere, or what? What had happened? Thomas felt a pang, a physical sensation in his chest as he stared down at his glass, and a feeling of utter guilt arose within him.
God
, he thought, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes.
After a few moments he lowered his hand and looked back at the frozen image on the television screen. Later was better than never. He could still act, could still move and take control of the situation. Turn things around and stop hiding at work. A sense of grim determination filled him. He could track Henry down. He could salvage his relationship with Michelle. He could take control, face all the uncomfortable truths and realities. All he had to do was start.
Walking back to the couch, he sat down and pressed Play. The sound of heavy breathing and desire filled his apartment, and then Eric called out once more and Julia pulled away and Henry followed after, trailing her through the darkness and murk to where Eric stood in one corner with the clearly unhappy Jimmy. They were staring down a stairwell that circled down into the depths.
"Hey, look at this. Where do you guys think it goes?" Eric's excitement seemed to have prevented him from noticing anything amiss; his eyes were lit up, his expression animated and enthused. "Let's go down and check it out, yeah?"
"I'm down if you are," said Henry, his voice game but with an undercurrent of confident challenge. "There are few places you've been that I'm not excited to go."
Eric paused and stared at Henry, his expression suddenly confused, suspicious. "What...?" He was prevented from completing his sentence by Julia's stepping between the two of them and making her way down the stairs.
"Let's go," she said. "Unless you guys would rather stay up here and make out?"
Eric looked down at where she was disappearing, even more confused, "What?" Henry laughed and pushed by, Jimmy close in tow, and then they were all moving quickly down the box stairwell, turning once, twice, three times and stepping out into a cement corridor that extended off in three directions.
"Huh," said Henry. "Looks like some sort of... connecting network, or..."
Thomas sat up. These corridors were similar to the one in the photograph. Of the person fleeing. Something was imminent.
"Let's check out this way," said Eric, taking the lead once more and stepping past Henry. "See if we can come out under Building Four." He strode past, and the others fell in step. Eric walked alongside Julia, speaking to her in a low, angry undertone. The camera remained trained on them, Henry's interest clearly more focused on their conversation than the tunnel, and then a loud sound caused them all to freeze. A harsh scraping sound, like a wedged door being forced open, or a heavy object being drawn roughly over hard ground. It was loud, distinct, and the four of them stopped cold, flashlights whirring about in the dark like lost lights.
"What the hell was that? What the hell was that?" asked Jimmy.
"Easy, Jimmy, easy," said Eric, looking around. Silence followed, pouring in like dark water, seeming to prevent them from being able to speak further. For long seconds they simply stared anxiously about themselves. Eric broke the silence. "These old places make a lot of noises, yeah? We probably just heard something, you know, like completely normal or whatever. Don't get all spooked out, okay?"
"Fuck that, man," said Jimmy, his voice quavering. "Let's just go, all right? I'm serious, let's get out of here."
"Maybe we should leave," said Julia, stepping up to look at Henry.
"I don't think there's--"
The loud scraping noise sounded again, echoing deep within the corridors, harsh and grating. It seemed to well up from the very shadows, and hung resonating in the air long after the actual sound had faded away.
"Fuck this man, fuck this," said Jimmy, and broke into a run, heading back down the corridor toward the stairwell.
"Jimmy!" yelled Eric, "Jimmy, get back here! Jimmy!"
Henry raised his camera and took a shot of Jimmy as he ran away down the tunnel, the flash as sudden and terrible as lightning, then he began to run after him, the video camera swinging violently back and forth, image blurring in the dark, nothing visible. Thomas sat on the edge of his seat, frowning at the television screen, trying desperately to discern something, to make out what was going on. Pounding footsteps sounded over the speakers, and Henry's voice calling out for Jimmy.