Chapter Five #3
We all laugh, and then after another few minutes of grunting, Tech moves back to survey his work.
The top of the door is broken away, leaving just enough space for us to get through.
As I take a quick peek inside, my anxiety starts to spike.
The drop below looks at least five feet, maybe more, and it’s pitch-black in there.
Not ideal. The only thing that scares me more than heights is complete darkness.
Tech pulls out a flashlight from his backpack and hands it to me, his movements deliberate and determined. Now that we’ve uncovered our first real clue, an abandoned town, it’s time to get serious. Get real. It’s all so tense and exciting at the same time.
Tech takes out a headlamp, arranging it on his forehead before flicking it on. I stifle my laugh.
“Wow,” Shawn says, widening her eyes. “I always forget how cool you are.”
“Then you should pay more attention,” Tech says with a grin. He pauses, then adds, “Also, can you wait here, Shawn? Just in case something happens, we need to make sure we can get back out.”
“Something happens?” I repeat, my heart skipping. “Like what?”
Tech shakes his head as if it’s not a big deal. “Better not to think about it,” he states, before turning and climbing through the jagged opening, disappearing into the dark.
I look at Shawn, absolutely still thinking about it. “What did he mean?” I ask. “What could happen?”
Shawn shrugs. “Gators?”
Widening my eyes, I look at the door, the abyss beyond it. There can’t be actual alligators in there. The door was shut. I mean… right?
When I turn back to Shawn, wanting her reassurance, she’s already on her feet and backing away. She waves her hat in a dramatic farewell. “Don’t worry,” she calls. “While you make the find of the century, I’ll just be out here having no fun at all.”
“At least there aren’t any gators out here,” I call after her. She laughs.
“I was kidding, Noa,” she says, and waits until I nod that I know. “You’ll be fine,” she adds. “Now go and save Cape Hope. I’ll keep an eye on things.”
She blows me a kiss, which I pretend to catch and put in my pocket. Hopefully it’ll bring me luck. I crouch in front of the broken door, the smell of rotting fish drifting up from the underground space. Uneasy, I turn on my flashlight and angle it inside.
“Come on in,” Tech says from the dark, startling me. “I’ve got you.”
I take a deep breath, ignoring the panic clawing at my insides, and crawl through the hole.
Just as I make it inside, Tech takes me by the waist and helps me hop down.
My feet splash in ankle-deep, murky water.
I wince, trying not to think about what’s floating in it, or what’s hiding under the surface.
The smell is worse now, thick and nauseating.
“Gross,” I murmur, and then swing my flashlight around to get a better look.
The beam cuts through the darkness, and I see the peeling walls, crumbling shelves, and a floor that has been underwater for years.
Decades. An old office, maybe? Something that required a desk, which is now broken down and rotted.
Everything in this place feels abandoned.
Forgotten. I’m suddenly very mortal, very small, in a way.
“Any idea what this place was?” I ask quietly. I don’t mean to whisper, but talking too loud seems disrespectful, or worse, like I might disturb something unseen. Someone.
So yeah—maybe I’m more superstitious than I thought.
Tech’s headlamp shines in my direction. “Not yet, but we’ll figure it out,” he says, his voice reassuring. But underneath, I hear the excitement. He’s thrilled. He starts to look through the desk drawers, trying to find any clues.
I roll my eyes at myself, knowing that I’ve been overreacting. Sure, it’s disgusting in here and everything smells like fish guts, but I’m fine. I’m not in danger. There are no gators. No ghosts.
And then I let out a little yelp when my flashlight catches on a shape in the back corner of the room. It takes me a moment to realize it’s a door.
Relieved, and a bit excited, I slosh my way over to it. The door is heavy and swollen with age, but I’m able to unhook the rusted latch. When I pull the door open, it groans in protest, the sound like nails on a chalkboard in the small room.
Water flows in over my feet, cold and thick with dirt, making me shiver.
“Tech,” I call, not even trying to keep the edge from my voice. I shine my light down the narrow hallway that ends in complete darkness. “Tech,” I say again, and then he’s next to me.
“Good find,” he says, patting my shoulder. I hum out my thanks.
We both wait a moment, using our lights to make sure it’s safe.
Then, together, we head into the hallway.
However, with each step, the water rises, dragging at our legs.
Freezing cold. The floor seems to be on a slant, but I’m not sure if it’s meant to be that way or if this part of the building has sunk into the sand.
The water is up to my knees when Tech lets out a sharp gasp, startling me.
“Look,” he says, shining his flashlight on the far wall.
When I follow the light, I can see a rusted set of bars, half covered in grime. The thick vertical lines, the room behind it. “This is a jail,” I murmur. Tech nods his agreement.
As we move closer to investigate, I examine the cell on the other side of the bars, small with metal beds clamped to the wall. There’s a square opening near the ceiling, which appears to have once been a window, but now it’s packed tight with sand, sealed shut.
The room can’t be more than five feet wide, maybe less. Just standing in front if it now makes my skin crawl. I try to imagine someone locked inside, trapped in the cramped darkness with no hope. It’s suffocating. Miserable.
“This isn’t Rum Runner Island,” Tech says, as if he’s finally admitting it to himself.
“It’s not Rum Runner,” I agree, disappointed. I reach out to put my hand on his arm, and he sighs heavily, rolling his head as he looks at me. It’s been a long day for all of us. “At least we found a creepy jail, right?” I say, offering him a smile. “Maybe we can work this into one of our tours.”
He chuckles a small laugh. “Yes, tourists do love the smell of rotting fish.”
“We’ll have Shawn lead it,” I suggest, turning back to look in the cell again.
Although we didn’t find what we were looking for, this is still interesting. This is still something. It doesn’t help solve any of our actual problems, but a day when we don’t start new ones is also a good thing.
As if curious, Tech steps into the open jail cell, water swirling around his legs. He’s massive in the space, having to keep his head lowered so it doesn’t touch the ceiling. His light bounces around the room, reflecting off the bed frame and illuminating the sand-filled window.
“People were tiny back then,” he says, running his hand along the edge of the bed. His voice echoes strangely in the cell.
“For real,” I say, swinging the door halfway closed with a loud screech that makes me flinch. “Can you imagine being trapped in here for years?”
Tech comes back over to the bars, gripping them with both hands. “Officer, let me out!” he calls in mock seriousness. “I’m innocent.”
I laugh, and it sounds shaky in the stale air. Tech meets my eyes, a moment of vulnerability there. We’ve been through a lot together; he helped through my mother’s death—held me as I cried. And now I ache for him and his loss.
“I’m sorry,” I say, sliding my hand over his through the bars.
“I really wanted this to be it,” he whispers like a secret. The words break my heart, and I nod in response. I wish this was it too. I really do.
He squeezes my hand once, but just as he goes to back up, Tech’s foot catches on something under the water. He stumbles, grabbing the bars to steady himself.
There’s a loud click.
For a moment, we both freeze. There is no way. There is no way that—
Tech pushes against the door. It rattles.
Then he pushes again. Harder, but nothing.
His eyes lift to mine, suddenly sharp. “Open the door,” he says, calm. Flat.
“Yeah, of course,” I say quickly, moving to pull it. But the second my fingers wrap around the bar, I feel it—resistance. The cold steel doesn’t give. I yank again, swallowing down my dread. “It’s fine,” I murmur. To myself? To Tech? I’m not sure.
“Noa,” he snaps. “Don’t fuck around. Open it.”
“I am!” I say, tugging with both hands now. “It’s… it’s just stuck.”
Tech grabs the bars from the inside, shaking them. “What the hell?” His voice is ragged, frightened. “Noa!”
“I’m trying!” I yell, my words cracking. “It’s not moving.”
He takes a step back, his face going slack. “I can’t believe this,” he whispers, and then louder, “Am I locked in a 1920’s jail cell? Get me out!”
We both start yanking, pulling, shaking the door as if we can undo a hundred years of steel and salt and pressure with just our adrenaline and anger. The door doesn’t budge.
“Stand back,” Tech growls, and I scramble away. He begins to slam his foot into the bars. The sound rings out, a metallic gong, but the door stays closed.
Another kick. And another.
Still nothing.
I can barely breathe. The water swirls around my legs like it’s rising with each second we’re down here. I’m so scared, helpless.
“What do we do?” I ask, my voice small.
Tech turns, eyes locked on the window high on the back wall. “That,” he says. “We try that.”
He plunges his fingers into the sand that fills the frame, digging and yanking it away. But the moment he tears through the first layer, there is wet, sucking sound—a pressure released.
Seawater begins to filter in.
“Wait!” I shout, but it’s already too late.
It’s only then that I understand where the water is coming from. This part of the building is already submerged. The sand was keeping the water out.
What starts as a trickle of water turns into a steady pour, then a flow. The water rushes in like from a fire hose. I pull on the door, tears stinging my eyes as I work desperately to save him.
“Oh shit,” Tech says. He drops to the floor, scooping up sand to try to shove back in the parts he gouged out of the window. “No, no, no…” he murmurs desperately, over and over.
But it’s useless. He can’t stop it.
I yank wildly on the bars, my hands raw and burning. I scream for help. I scream for Shawn. The metal doesn’t move. The water is at my thighs now.
“Uh, Noa,” Tech says, his voice breaking. “You’d better think of something. Fast. We’ve got maybe fifteen minutes before I’m underwater.”
He comes over, and I grip his hands through the bars again, both of us shaking in the cold, in the darkness. And my pulse pounds in my ears as the water starts to swallow us up.