see you?"
"I'm not sure, but we can't take the chance. When Grace's house burned down, there he was. And when the bomb went off at the Franklin Institute. We've got to get out of here!"
"Not until we find what we came for," Dan said stubbornly. "Uncle Alistair and
the man in black? That's double proof we're on the right track!"
Amy was surprised by the surge of admiration she felt. Sure, her brother was a dweeb who wouldn't last five minutes without her. But there were times -- like now -- that he found courage where she saw only fear.
She swallowed hard. "Let's keep going."
They forged deeper into the mountainside. The tunnel split and split again, and they made careful note of the twists and turns. Neither could think of anything more terrifying than getting lost back here, halfway between Salzburg and the earth's core. The sting of eyestrain soon set in from scanning the endless walls fo r markings or coded symbols -- anything that might indicate a secret compartment or hiding place. Only rock greeted them, and the occasional trickle of water.
Dan was on his hands and knees, investigating a "carving" that turned out to be a groove in the stone, when the string of electric lights flickered once and went out. Dark didn't even come close to describing it. They were plunged into suffocating blackness, a total absence of light. It was as if they had suddenly been struck blind. The panic was like nothing Amy had e xperienced before. Her breath came out in gasps, faster and faster, as if the air she drew in was instantly sucked out of her. Dan flailed his arms, reaching to reassure her. But when he touched her arm, she let out a shriek that echoed through the passageway in all directions. "Calm down, it's me!" he hissed, although calm was the opposite of what he felt. "It's probably just a power failure!"
"And the man in black just happens to be here?" Amy squealed.
Dan struggled to think rationally. "If we can't see him, he can't see us, right? Who knows? Maybe he's just as lost as we are." "And maybe he's back there somewhere, waiting for us."
He took a deep breath. "We'll have to chance it. All we can do is retrace our steps and hope for the best."
"Can we even find our way out?" she quavered.
Dan tried to visualize the tunnels as they might appear on a map -- as intersecting lines. "You run your hand along one wall of the passage. I'll run my hand along the other. We won't miss any turns that way." He gulped. "Simple."
Simple.
Oh, how Amy yearned for her brother's ability to reduce everything to a formula -- a series of instructions to be followed. For her, no formula could ever be separated from the sheer terror of this darkness. She had a flashback to the Paris Catacombs, stacks of skulls grinning grotesquely at her. Yet at the same time she knew this was worse -- the shaft much narrower, the walls pressing in on her, trapping her in the rock belly of this mountain.
"Dan, I don't think I can do this," she whimpered. "I'm just too scared."
"It's the same tunnel," he soothed. "We made it here; we can make it back." They set out through the blackness. Amy felt her way along the left wall, knowing that Dan was doing the same on the right. They locked fingers to avoid losing each other and talked constantly to keep out the terror that would surely overwhelm them if it found a way in.
"Hey, Amy," said Dan, "when's the last time we held hands like this?" "I can't remember. It had to be when we were little, little kids. You know -- with Mom and Dad."
"What did Mom look like again?" He already knew the answer. He'd heard it at least a hundred times, yet the familiar conversation was comforting. "She was tall," Amy replied, "with reddish-brown hair -- " "Like yours?" His standard question.
"Mom's was a bit redder. You couldn't miss her in the audience at a school play. Dad was fairer, with -- " A pause. "It gets harder and harder to picture them both. Like an old snapshot where the image is fading."
"It stinks,"
"I'm not sure, but we can't take the chance. When Grace's house burned down, there he was. And when the bomb went off at the Franklin Institute. We've got to get out of here!"
"Not until we find what we came for," Dan said stubbornly. "Uncle Alistair and
the man in black? That's double proof we're on the right track!"
Amy was surprised by the surge of admiration she felt. Sure, her brother was a dweeb who wouldn't last five minutes without her. But there were times -- like now -- that he found courage where she saw only fear.
She swallowed hard. "Let's keep going."
They forged deeper into the mountainside. The tunnel split and split again, and they made careful note of the twists and turns. Neither could think of anything more terrifying than getting lost back here, halfway between Salzburg and the earth's core. The sting of eyestrain soon set in from scanning the endless walls fo r markings or coded symbols -- anything that might indicate a secret compartment or hiding place. Only rock greeted them, and the occasional trickle of water.
Dan was on his hands and knees, investigating a "carving" that turned out to be a groove in the stone, when the string of electric lights flickered once and went out. Dark didn't even come close to describing it. They were plunged into suffocating blackness, a total absence of light. It was as if they had suddenly been struck blind. The panic was like nothing Amy had e xperienced before. Her breath came out in gasps, faster and faster, as if the air she drew in was instantly sucked out of her. Dan flailed his arms, reaching to reassure her. But when he touched her arm, she let out a shriek that echoed through the passageway in all directions. "Calm down, it's me!" he hissed, although calm was the opposite of what he felt. "It's probably just a power failure!"
"And the man in black just happens to be here?" Amy squealed.
Dan struggled to think rationally. "If we can't see him, he can't see us, right? Who knows? Maybe he's just as lost as we are." "And maybe he's back there somewhere, waiting for us."
He took a deep breath. "We'll have to chance it. All we can do is retrace our steps and hope for the best."
"Can we even find our way out?" she quavered.
Dan tried to visualize the tunnels as they might appear on a map -- as intersecting lines. "You run your hand along one wall of the passage. I'll run my hand along the other. We won't miss any turns that way." He gulped. "Simple."
Simple.
Oh, how Amy yearned for her brother's ability to reduce everything to a formula -- a series of instructions to be followed. For her, no formula could ever be separated from the sheer terror of this darkness. She had a flashback to the Paris Catacombs, stacks of skulls grinning grotesquely at her. Yet at the same time she knew this was worse -- the shaft much narrower, the walls pressing in on her, trapping her in the rock belly of this mountain.
"Dan, I don't think I can do this," she whimpered. "I'm just too scared."
"It's the same tunnel," he soothed. "We made it here; we can make it back." They set out through the blackness. Amy felt her way along the left wall, knowing that Dan was doing the same on the right. They locked fingers to avoid losing each other and talked constantly to keep out the terror that would surely overwhelm them if it found a way in.
"Hey, Amy," said Dan, "when's the last time we held hands like this?" "I can't remember. It had to be when we were little, little kids. You know -- with Mom and Dad."
"What did Mom look like again?" He already knew the answer. He'd heard it at least a hundred times, yet the familiar conversation was comforting. "She was tall," Amy replied, "with reddish-brown hair -- " "Like yours?" His standard question.
"Mom's was a bit redder. You couldn't miss her in the audience at a school play. Dad was fairer, with -- " A pause. "It gets harder and harder to picture them both. Like an old snapshot where the image is fading."
"It stinks,"
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