Aegis: Catalyst Grove (9 page)

So, this is where I will find my life’s answers, huh.
 
I doubt that.
 

Amidst his doubt, Graham pushed open the door to have a look around.
 
The Library was a beautiful room.
 
Graham had only been in here a handful of times, though in his pursuit of quiet solitary places, this would actually fit the bill quite nicely.
 
With everyone preparing for dinner, he allowed himself to be enveloped by the solace of the large empty room.

Reading was never his first activity of choice, so it had been at least two or three months since Graham had visited the library.
 
He had forgotten how cozy it was.
 
The craftsmen definitely spent more time in this room than most of the others.
 
Most of the two adjacent side walls were covered with large bookshelves that reached from the floor to the top of the twelve foot plaster ceiling.
 
The exterior wall was mostly windows, and in the middle of the room were stationed two massive study desks stretching over fifteen feet long and six feet wide, with the countertop extending beyond the wooden base enough for the reader to fit their legs underneath.
 
Eight chairs were stationed at the desk with eight lamps on the countertop in front of each chair, so that one could read day or night.
 
The perimeter of the desks were wood panels with ornate, vertical wood trim and solid wood paneling in between.

Looking to the outside wall, Graham searched for an exterior door, but was met again with disappointment when all he could see were large portrait style windows that nearly reached from floor to ceiling.
 
As the anger within him grew, he turned around from the large desks, now looking at the endless rows of shelves that housed book after book, too numerous to count.
 
Like a slow boil, however, his disappointment evolved into curiosity as he paced back and forth staring at the columns of books.

Graham ran his fingers along the spines, reading the titles as he went.
 
American History, From Darkness to Light, The Origin of Man, The Unseen War
, then a volume of matching history books of which filled the remaining space on the row.
 

He contemplated Ms. Winstone’s statement about finding life’s answers in here.
 
No doubt these books answered many questions, though Graham found it hard to believe that any one of these books would hold the resolution to nightmares which caused objects around him to hover off the ground.
 
No, only two people on earth held that knowledge, and so far, Graham could not find a way to get either of them.
 

Plopping down on his butt, Graham sat down with his back to the tall bookshelf, so that he was facing one of the large desks in the middle of the room.
 
He took out his treasured ball and began to rhythmically bounce it from the floor, to the panels of the desk, then back to his hand.
 
Floor - Desk - Hand.
 
Floor - Desk - Hand.
 
The repetition was therapeutic.
 
His mind would begin to clear with each bounce of the ball.
 
His eyes followed it’s path to and from his hand as he allowed his mind to trail off wherever it wanted to go.
 

Before he knew it, he had made the tosses into a game.
 
He found himself concentrating on hitting different sections of the desk to see if he could hit his mark.
 
First, he aimed at the small vertical piece of trim.
 
Floor - Trim - Hand.
 
He then aimed for the same piece of trim to the right.
 
Floor - Trim - Hand.
 
Nailed it.
 
Scooting over to the next section of flat space in-between the vertical strips of wood, Graham aimed dead center.
 
Floor - Desk - Floor - Floor - Floor….
 
As the ball struck the wood, it made an odd hollow thud, losing it’s velocity.
 
Instead of returning to him, it fell from the wall and trailed off on the floor.
 
Graham stared inquisitively at the wall and the sudden change in his bouncing pattern.
 
He swung his legs around so that he was on all fours, and crawled towards the large desk.
 
Trapping the ball to the ground to keep it from bouncing, he closed his fingers around it and placed it back into the front pocket of his dark orange sweatshirt.
 

As Graham made it to the wall of the desk, he ran his hand up and down the trim.
 
It didn’t seem any different than the rest.
 
He shifted to his left and knocked a couple of times in the center of the square panel encapsulated by the trim.
 
Solid.
 
Shifting back to the panel in question, Graham reached up and knocked four times.
 
A much different sound came from this panel, like it was attached to air.
 
Graham’s pulse quickened as his heart began to pound in his chest.
 
He quickly shifted to his right to knock on the adjacent square.
 
Solid as a rock.
 
Sliding back to his left, Graham stared at the panel, wondering why it sounded so different.
 
Could this be some sort of door?
 
He quickly got up and ran to the side of the desk.
 

Six feet is plenty of room for a secret door
, he thought.

Scurrying back to the square, he began to grab the trim with his fingernails to try and pull it open.
 
After tugging at the vertical strips without success, he tried the horizontal pieces next.
 
Straining as hard as he cold without ripping his fingernails off, he grunted and jerked, but the thing would not budge.
 

“Come on ya stupid door.
 
Just open!”
 

Tug-Tug-Tug.
 
More grunting.
 
More pulling.
 
Graham tried with all his fingertip strength, but it would not budge.
 
He plopped back to the floor and massaged his fingers.
 
Frustrated and tired from the straining, he crossed his legs indian style in front of the hollow panel, and with a heavy thud, Graham slammed his forehead into it.
 

“Click.”
 

Graham heard a small metallic noise from behind the door.
 
As he raised his head from the panel, the door hinged open, just slightly, confirming his suspicion.
 
He sat for a moment with his mouth wide open.
 
He stretched his hand out to feel a small gust of damp air blow from the small passageway.
 
He cracked the door open a little more, and grabbed the lip of the trim.
 
The trim overlapped the middle section of the panel by about an inch, so that no seam could be seen.
 
The hinges on the other side of the door were masterfully inset into the wood, so no trace of a door could be detected.
 

With the door now completely open, Graham noticed that the left side of the wall of the small wooden staircase was completely covered with small lines carved into the wall.
 
The lines were in clusters of five.
 
Four vertical lines, and one diagonal line running through the other four.
 
Someone had been counting.
 
There had to be thousands of marks covering the wall.
 
The marks went from the top of each step to the ceiling as far as one could reach up as you descended the stairs.
 

It was then that Graham remembered the lecture from the teacher during study time.
 
Greenwood was part of the underground railroad.
 
What once was an escape for thousands of slaves would now serve as the path to Graham’s freedom.
 
What a wonderful slice of irony it was.
 
Two slices of irony, actually.
 
Remembering Ms. Winstone’s remark about finding answers in the library, Graham could not help but laugh to himself.
 

Thanks Ms. Winstone.
 
You were right after all.

Beginning from the left side, Graham counted the number of sections of the desk wall and made note of which one housed the hidden door.
 
He pushed the door shut again and heard another
‘click’
noise, letting him know that it was latched again.
 
He then stood up to his feet and made his way back to the library door.
 
Now back in the hallway, Graham began searching for Damien.
 
He walked back towards The Commons and turned the corner past the large Grandfather clock, where he saw Damien coming out from the Parlor Room.
 

Now running, Graham almost tackled Damien in his excitement.
 

“Wooaaa there, chief!
 
This isn’t the NFL.
 
You almost knocked me down,” said Damien as he began to give his report.
 
“I have been up and down these halls.
 
There are no doors that go outside, except the front door, the doors at the end of each wing, and the Parlor door.”
 

Grabbing Damien by both shoulders, Graham looked at his friend with wide eyes.
 

“No amigo, that is not all of the doors.
 
I found a way out, and you are not going to believe how.”

C
HAPTER
E
IGHT

At The Stroke of Midnight

“
Im-pos-eee-blee!
 
Inside the big desks?
 
Do you know where it leads to?” asked Damien.

“No.
 
I didn’t have time to go through the tunnel to see where it came out, but it has to lead somewhere right?
 
I saw thousands of tic marks on the wall.
 
This had to be a station for the Underground Railroad.
 
I only caught bits and pieces of what the teacher said, but basically, the slaves came from the South up here to the North to have a fresh start to life.
 
I am pretty sure it didn’t end by staying in a tunnel underneath Greenwood.
 
If worse comes to worse and it doesn’t lead anywhere, we just come back up.
 
What’s to lose?”

Damien shrugged.
 
“Nothing, I guess.
 
So, what next?
 
Do we just wait until midnight and sneak out?”

“Yea, judging by the time it takes to get out of here, walk to Wellington, and go the extra few miles to Portfield Manor, we will need to leave our rooms around midnight, assuming the underground path isn’t too long.”
 
We just do what we did last time.
 
We go down the staircase, around the corner, then make our way into the Library.
 
The most important thing is that we get to the meeting and back without anyone knowing about our absence.
 
With this plan, no-one will be able to see us leave or come back.
 
It is perfect!”
 

Dinner flew by as the anticipation of tonight’s events built up inside Graham and Damien.
 
Graham laid in bed fully clothed as he counted the chimes of the clock downstairs.
 
He tossed his ball up and down to the rhythm of the chimes of the clock downstairs.
 
Ding.
 
Ding.
 
Ding……. Eleven dings.
 
One more hour ’til game-time.
 
All of this sneaking around and scheming had started to fray Graham’s nerves.
 

The satisfaction of knowing answers were within reach kept Graham excited, but there was something else there, another excitement that Graham could not pinpoint.
 
It could be the thought of an adventure, sure, but after wrestling with this new and unfamiliar emotion, he finally decided that it must be what others describe as ‘having a purpose.’
 
To think that these answers could lead to something more, a life dedicated to something more than merely existing.
 
Yes, that must be what is making his heart pound and flutter.
 

“More like set apart than cast aside.”
 
That is what Chase said.
 

What does that even mean?
 
Graham thought to himself.
 
“Both seem equally as bad to me.”
 
Tossing and turning with the thoughts running through his mind like wild animals, it seemed like only a few minutes had passed until he heard the next series of chimes from the clock. Ding.
 
Ding.
 
Ding…….. twelve dings.
 

Game-time.

Just like they had talked about at dinner, Graham made his way over to the duct and gave three knocks.
 
Without hesitation, three more knocks came from the other side.
 
Damien was ready.
 
They both creaked open the door to the hallway and gave a quick glance both ways before stepping out
 
The hallway was very dark, with only a few small night lights spaced out every eight feet or so, illuminating their path.
 

They both tip-toed down the hallway until they made it to the stairway.
 
Without a noise and much to Damien’s relief, they reached the bottom of the stairs without interruption, and turned the corner to the Library.
 

Damien breathed a sigh of relief.
 
“It is much easier to do this in the middle of the night.”