Part 12

Mary is gone as well.  The door to my room is standing slightly ajar, and she is not inside. 

“Son of a…”  I begin and exhale.  Deep breath in, deep breath out.  Looking over the door, it seems to be, well, it has not been in one piece in years, but it does not appear damaged any further.  Peering into the room, I discover it is much as I left it, although the bed does look a little more ‘lived in.’

Switching off the lights, I flip the lock on the door and close it, making a mental note to grab my other key.  On the way back to my cart to do so, I poke my head into both bathrooms, hoping to find her, but not expecting to.  Neither am I disappointed. 

I set the still glowing sphere on a crate and dig through my cart, finding the chain in a pocket of my other pair of jeans.  Pulling it out, I hang it about my neck and tuck the key into my shirt, stifling a yawn with my sleeve.  Sleep calls to me, invites me towards its warm embrace, but I decline.  Who knows what I would wake up to?

Rubbing my eyes I grab the sphere and head out into the main corridor.  Left or right, she had to be walking, unless someone came and got her.  I push that thought from my mind.  There seems to be a pin prick of light at the far end of the tunnel to my left, the right one is pitch black.  Left then.

“Mary!”  I yell out, and am greeted by a thousand echoes as it bounces off of the concrete walls, reverberates in the air.  Waiting a few moments after the cacophony dies down, I hear nothing but the drip drip of water.

I sigh and, holding the sphere aloft, the cold blue light casting shadows of broken stone and dumped belongings against the walls, head down the tunnel.  Things hidden by the darkness scurry away, their squeaks and squeals of protest startle me at first.  Zigzagging through the tunnel, I avoid puddles of stagnant, fetid water and wonder about how a car, an old Cutlass by the looks of it, managed to make it so far underground.  A worn pair of boots stuck in the mud catches my attention and I tug at them.  A loud squelch accompanies there liberation, sending me sprawling on to my butt.  Now that they are free, they look too small so I toss them off to the side, hoping to pick them up later, trade them for something.  I look around for some kind of marker, some kind of landmark and make a note of an oddly shaped piece of concrete leaning against the wall.

Glancing over my shoulder, I am greeted by nothing but darkness beyond of the glow the orb casts.  I start at my own shadow stretched out behind me.  Draw in a deep breath, steel myself to go on.  Moving forward again, I note that the distant light is still no bigger than a pin prick.  I trudge on, afraid to call out any more, regretting that I had in the first place.

Another hundred feet and I trip over a piece of the broken subway rail and stumble.  I hear a startled sob to my left.  “Mary.” I hiss.

“Charlie?  Is that you?”  She calls out.  I move toward her voice, find her sitting, back against the wall, shoeless.  “I’m sorry,” she cries.

“Where are your shoes?”  I ignore her apology.

“They’re back there,” tears drip from her eyes as she waves back the way I had come. 

I look at her feet, cracked and bleeding from the rough tunnel floor.  “Ok.  You stay here, I’ll go get them.”  I hear a final sob, followed by a long sigh as I walk away, leaving her again in darkness.  I find the piece of concrete I had noted earlier, locate the boots and bring them back to her. 

Her hands tremble as she slides them on to her feet.  She stands up and winces at the pain, but shrugs my steadying hands away.

“Where did you think you were going?”  I ask her, trying to keep the edge of irritation, and fear, out of my voice.

“I was going to find Old Jenny.”  She squares her shoulders, takes a step toward the distant light.

I cast my eyes toward the ground, “Um, Mary…”

“What?”

“I’m not, not sure what’s in that direction.  Or the other for that matter, I only ever come down here via the Sigils.  I leave by them too.”

She curses under her breath, “So what are we waiting for, use the sphere and let’s go see her.”

“It’s not that easy, I can get us close, kind of…”  I watch her shoulders slump slightly but her head snaps back up.

“Ok, do it then.”

I find the right spot on my sphere, looking past the glowing light, and again the world drops away.  The walls appear to melt into the floor, which seems to bubble for a moment, change color, become the remains of what was once a brilliant red carpet.  The walls are rebuilt brick by brick before us, and soon they too are covered in a dark carpeting.  Chairs appear scattered on the floor before us, a few broken tables mixed among them.  Three men look at us from one corner before turning back to whatever they were doing.  A torn screen took up three quarters of the wall behind them  What might have been bronze light fixtures hung on either side of the screen underneath a thick green patina.

“Where are we?”  She asks, drawing another glance from the three men.

“The King’s Theater.  There is a passageway down to the Graveyard in here.”

“The Graveyard?”  She asks, looking around the room, her mouth open.

“Yes, now let’s go,”  I grab ahold of her arm and pull her along as the three men break from their huddle, pulling switchblades from inside their black leather jackets.