Chapter 28 #2
Eventually, they came to a rough-hewn staircase to a lower level. They descended into the depths, where the air was colder,
and continued walking. And walking. The empty niches turned into niches that were still walled up, some with the marble covering
them intact, some which had fallen to the ground in broken shards.
When Aida saw the first skeleton, she thought her heart might stop. They had been walking for so long through the empty cemetery
that it was a shock to see the flash of a yellowed skull under the glare of her headlamp. As they continued, it became clear
that all the niches still held bodies. She dug out the map.
“We’re still in the mapped area.” She pointed to the spot she thought they were at. “But I wonder if anyone has come this
far since Giovanni Battista de Rossi made this map in 1849.”
“You might be right. It’s interesting that the Church left these bodies behind. I thought they had moved them all.”
They continued, and the feeling that they were walking into the depths of a horror film amplified past ten. Aida could hear
the uneven rhythm of her own breathing, a stark reminder of life amid so much death. The beams from their headlamps carved
pockets of visibility in the pervasive darkness. In this subterranean gloom, shadows played tricks on the eyes, and it was
easy to imagine bony fingers reaching out from the walls, yearning for the warmth they had not felt in millennia.
A chill that had nothing to do with the temperature ran up Aida’s spine as they passed a niche where the marble slab lay cracked
on the ground, its inscription indecipherable with age. The skeleton inside seemed almost to be straining against the space,
the skull tilted at an unnatural angle, as if in its final moments, it had turned to witness some unspeakable event.
The air grew heavier as they delved deeper. Aida couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, of unseen eyes fixed on her
from the darkness, witnessing her intrusion into this sanctum of perpetual repose.
“I think we’re heading in the right direction,” Luciano said. “I’ve never been depressed, not truly, but I’m beginning to
understand that feeling—that weight upon the body.”
“Miseria,” Aida said, invoking Oizys’s more common name. “Me too. It’s terrible.” It made her want to cry.
Suddenly, Aida smelled it—the familiar nostalgia of childhood. It was faint and fleeting but unmistakable: the scent of a
Russian olive tree, pleasantly sweet and floral, like a slightly spiced jasmine flower. Aida paused, and this time, tears
formed in the corners of her eyes.
“Tutto bene?”
Aida nodded, her headlamp bobbing. “I thought I could smell Effie. By the gods, you’re right. We must be heading in the right
direction.”
Luciano pulled her into a hug, dampening her neck. He was just as terrified as she was. “Finalmente,” he whispered.
The moment gave them new courage and they hastened their pace. The scent wasn’t steady, but when Aida could smell it, she
thought perhaps it was growing stronger. Yet the farther they walked, the denser the air grew, tinged with the palpable feeling
of grief and depression. Even under Sophie’s aegis, the shrine’s mournful gravity pulled at her spirit, a reminder of the
goddess’s pervasive sorrow.
They pushed forward, bolstered by the idea that such sorrow meant they were moving closer and closer toward the shrine. The
air grew even damper, and the smell of Effie began to mix with the scent of mold and decay. Rounding a corner, they found
the source: A section of the tunnel ahead was flooded, water reflecting their lamplight in a still, dark pool that stretched
into the shadows.
“We can’t turn back now,” Luciano said, rolling up his pant legs. “It can’t be that deep.”
Carefully, they edged around the perimeter of the tunnel, trying to avoid the deepest water, their hands grazing the cold
walls for balance. Suddenly, Luciano’s footing gave way, and he plunged into the water with a splash, his headlamp flickering
out and succumbing to the darkness. Aida, illuminated by the dim glow of her lamp, let out a startled cry and pushed her way
through the water toward him.
A skull floated up in the water next to Luciano and Aida screamed, the sound echoing dully off the tufa stone.
“Calma, calma. I’m okay,” Luciano reassured, his voice wavering slightly as he pulled himself up, but the water was deceitfully deep, swallowing his legs up to the knees.
“But my pack is soaked through,” he lamented, retrieving the sodden mass.
“And my lamp . . .” His voice trailed off as he fumbled in the inky water, finally retrieving the useless device.
The grim realization that they were now enveloped in an even more oppressive darkness settled heavily upon them.
“We’ll need to get through this water to try to fix it.
I don’t want to open the packs and lose anything. ”
“You’re sure you’re all right?” she asked, concerned, barely able to conceal her burgeoning panic.
“Sì. The water at least broke some of the fall. Andiamo. We can do this.”
Aida’s heart was pounding so hard she was sure Luciano could hear it. Surrounded by the suffocating silence, punctuated only
by the unnerving drip of water from Luciano’s backpack and their labored breathing, a sense of foreboding engulfed her. The
reality of their situation settled in—a misstep, a wrong turn, and they could be lost forever in this labyrinthine underworld.
Luciano sensed her hesitation and turned to face her with a look of concern. “Aida?” he asked, his voice steady but filled
with worry.
She looked up at him, resolve warring within her. “I . . . I don’t know if we can do this, Luciano,” she admitted. “We can’t
even see the end of this water ahead.” She waved her arm down the dark tunnel. “What if we can’t find her? What if we get
trapped? I can’t—I don’t want to die here, not in this darkness.” Tears mingled with the cold water on her cheeks, the weight
of their predicament crashing down on her.
Luciano put his hands on her shoulders. “I would hug you, but then I’d get you all wet.” He leaned forward and gave her a
soft kiss. “We knew this wouldn’t be easy,” he said gently. “We can’t give up now, not when we’re so close.”
Aida nodded, trying to muster even the smallest amount of courage. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment,
willing her heart to steady. In the previous months, she had often said little prayers to Sophie and Aggie for guidance, but
this time, she spoke to Effie, a desperate request for help.
And then, miraculously, as if in answer to her silent plea, it came—the scent that stirred memories of sunlight and open skies, of running across green grass and into the arms of her Papa, who would ruffle her hair and laugh.
The subtle, sweet fragrance of Russian olive trees, so intrinsically linked to her happiest memories, intensified, a burst of comfort in the darkness, then it dissipated.
Her eyes snapped open, a renewed sense of purpose washing over her. “Did you smell that?” she asked.
Luciano shook his head. “No, but if you did, that’s a good sign. Let’s get out of this water.”
They trudged forward, their light greatly diminished by Luciano’s darkened headlamp. Bones from the lowest niches had come
loose and floated around them. Aida did the best she could to avoid their touch—to bother the dead in such a way seemed not
just disrespectful but also unlucky to her. It didn’t help her sorrow either. The farther they pushed through the water, the
more the oppressive atmosphere of the catacombs seemed to concentrate, a presence that pushed against their minds with whispers
of despair.
Ten minutes later, they reached a dry part of the tunnel and sat on the floor to dig through their packs. Aida wished she
could tell Yumi how glad she was that she had insisted on packing everything inside the packs in plastic bags. Yumi had done
so to help organize and save space, but they had helped save nearly everything inside Luciano’s wet pack. They first wrapped
the space blankets around them for warmth and broke open some of the hand warmers that Yumi had tucked into their packs. But
Luciano’s headlamp didn’t work at all.
“Damn it,” he muttered. He shook it, then flipped open the battery compartment. Aida leaned over so her light shone on the
lamp. The batteries looked fine—but a thin sheen of water coated the inside.
“The seal must have been loose,” he said, frustrated. “Water got in and shorted something.”
Aida frowned. “Did you check it before we left?”
“I thought so.” Luciano sighed. “Maybe I didn’t close it right? Or it might’ve gotten knocked loose when I fell.”
“We should have brought a backup,” Aida lamented. She handed Luciano one of the extra flashlights in her pack. It was smaller to help conserve space and weight, and didn’t have the impact of the headlamp.
“It’s better than nothing though.”
“I don’t think we can stop for long, or we’ll get too cold being so wet. I still think we could have brought a backpacker’s
space heater,” Aida said. “Even if we didn’t use it for very long.”
“No, Felix was right to discourage us. There could be all sorts of gases down here we don’t understand. And there’s no ventilation.”
Aida peered down the passage ahead of them. There wasn’t a sliver of light. The idea of moving forward filled her with dread.
“I can’t smell the trees. Maybe we should go back.”
“But you could smell it when I fell in the water, and we were heading in this direction. We must be going the right way,”
Luciano said. “Besides, do you want to go back through that? Come on, let’s keep going.” He scrambled to his feet and held
out a hand to help her up.
After thirty minutes of trudging through the gloom, they reached another staircase heading down even deeper. Aida would have
balked if not for the fact that the scent of the trees had returned and was growing stronger with every step.
But only a short way down the new gallery, they hit a wall, a literal wall, nicheless, blocking their path. It loomed before
them, solid and seemingly impenetrable, an ancient boundary set in stone. The smell of her childhood was concentrated at the
wall and Aida breathed deep, letting the scent fill her with courage. She ran her hands over the wall’s cold unyielding surface,
feeling the tiny imperfections and the chill of the rock seeping into her skin. She pressed her ear against the stone, half
expecting to hear a heartbeat from the other side, anything that would give them a clue.
Luciano joined her, examining the wall with an intense gaze. “There has to be a way through,” he murmured, more to himself
than to Aida.
Aida pulled away, her mind racing. She recalled the stories of secret chambers and hidden doors that were common in places like this.
She doubted all the movies she had watched and books she had read could be real, but she wasn’t sure what else to do.
“Luciano, help me look for any signs of a mechanism or anomaly, something that doesn’t belong. ”
They split up, tracing the expanse of the wall with their fingers, tapping lightly, listening for the hollow sound that would
suggest a passage. Minutes passed, and the only sounds in the silence were the soft thuds of their explorations and the distant
water drip. The passage was narrow, and their backs bumped against each other, a comfort in the depressing darkness.
Aida’s fingertips moved across the cold stone, tracing lines and patterns worn by age. The scent of the Russian olive tree
was stronger now, as if urging them on. And then, in a spot low to the ground on the left side of the wall, a stone seemed
ever so slightly recessed. It shifted a bit when she pressed it.
“Here,” she said. She shifted so Luciano could try pushing it.
“Nothing.”
The olive tree smell intensified. An idea came to her. “Wait, what if there is another spot on the other side?” She leaned
over to that side and felt around, and her heart lifted when she found the same sort of recession in the wall. “Yes!”
Together, they pushed. A faint grinding noise filled the gallery, barely audible at first but growing louder. The wall began
to tremble, and dust fell from the ceiling above them.
Luciano’s voice was a hushed undertone of excitement. “It’s giving way.”
And then, with a resonant clunk that vibrated through the stone floor, the wall began to move. It didn’t swing open like a
gate but descended smoothly into the ground, receding with a mechanical precision that was oddly modern in the ancient setting.
Aida watched, breath held tight in her chest, as the slab sank and the perfume of trees rushed in. The wall’s descent slowed,
finally coming to a gentle halt with a solid, final thud.
They stood together, peering into the newly revealed passage.
“Incredible,” Aida whispered. “It’s like stepping into a time that should no longer exist.”
The difference from one side of the door to the other was stunning. As far as they could see, the ceiling, walls, and floor
were covered in shining black marble.
Aida and Luciano exchanged glances, a mix of excitement and apprehension in their eyes. They had found the way. Luciano reached
out his hand. Aida took it, and together, they stepped into the passage. Somewhere down this path, Effie awaited them.