TUNNEL, Steven Nedelton [read this if .txt] 📗

bottom. He jumped back down on the floor and continued walking on, illuminating the darkness ahead of him.
After a while, he came upon another coal wagon, also on the left outgoing rail, this one filled with half hardened sand. As he stepped down and played the beam further into the tunnel, he saw dark masses, wagon-like, in the distance ahead, on both sides of the tunnel.
He stopped walking for a moment, beginning to wonder what the officer had brought in and where he had hidden it. Whatever it was, it was not so small that he could have missed it on his way in. He recalled that the wagon the three men were pushing was on the incoming rail, on the right hand side of the tunnel.
He also figured the wagon could not have been driven any further than the next stationary wagon he could barely see in the distance. That meant the officer might have hidden his treasure somewhere near it, the contents being too heavy to carry by hand.
He began to run toward the next wagon while illuminating the floor and both walls ahead of him. He was getting close to it when he noticed a grey iron door on the right wall. He guessed that there would be another one a distance away, also on the same side, and he thought he could see it.
He stopped running and walked to the first one. It was fairly rusted, flush with the wall, and shaped like the opening on a dog house, three to four feet high and equally wide. There was a handle on the door and he tried to turn it, but it wouldn't budge, going neither up nor down.
He looked around the floor and found a half of a brick next to the wall. He placed the flashlight on the floor, pointing at the door, and picked up the brick. He banged up and down on the handle, until it finally gave a rusty squeak and moved. He threw the brick away and turned the handle. The door was ready to open.
“What are we doing here, boy? Hunting for State property?” a man’s voice boomed from behind him.
“Nothing…just curious…if any good shovels and lamps are still in there,” a thoroughly surprised and scared Ben replied without turning.
The man had pointed the harsh beam of the lamp right at his head and now lowered it. Ben stood up, then turned trying to see the stranger and hoping it wasn’t the officer or one of the soldiers he’d been observing earlier. But the man was in the dark and held an especially strong flashlight in his right hand, now pointed downward. Ben couldn’t see either him or his face clearly.
“You come here often, kid, looking for…shovels?” the man asked, now standing next to him. “You won’t mind if I join you, I need a couple of abandoned shovels myself,” he added while giving him a friendly tap on the shoulder with his left hand. “We can look together, right? Find more shovels that way. Maybe even a good pick.”
Ben didn’t like the tone of the stranger’s voice. But the worst he could think of was being beaten up by the big man. He shrugged. He was prepared for anything. And if they were to lie to each other, it was no big headache either, except that the man might not wish to share the shovels or whatever he was after. He might want to take’em all for himself. And that thought began to worry him.
“Sure, sure,” he quickly replied, “I was trying to open this door, but the handle wouldn’t budge. It was rusted. But now it’s open, let me see…”
“Nah, don’t bother with that one, boy. Lock it. There’s nothing in there we’d be interested in,” the man said and moved ahead toward the next door in the wall, as if already knowing where the picks and shovels worthy of his interest might be hiding.
“You from around here?” the man asked, as he walked ahead, obviously no immediate threat to Ben.
“From the village…an hour by bike,” he said. “My Dad’s a doc,” he added spontaneously, not quite sure why he lied, possibly to impress upon the stranger he wasn’t playing games with just some ordinary kid.
The man half stopped and turned. Ben was now able to size him up and see his face for the first time. He didn’t look all that tall, and his smile seemed rather friendly. He had bushy, curly hair and was dressed as a soldier, but without a cap. Ben froze for an instant, speechless, wondering if he was asleep and having a bad dream.
“What a coincidence. I’m a soldier and I used to help in the infirmary. It seems your father and I have something in common. Glad to have met you, kiddo,” the man said and turned his back to him again, continuing to walk toward the next door in the wall.
“I wonder…at your age,” the man continued talking as they walked on, “I’d be looking for guns and ammo…not for shovels and picks. For bayonets and pistols…soldiers stole…and hid somewhere in here. That’s what I’d be looking for…myself.
“Am I right about you…son? You looking for pistols? You watched me and the other two push in that wagon and now you’re here to find the loot we hid somewhere in here. Tell the truth, no shame in it…I was the same way when I was young. I won’t tell your dad, cross my heart,” the man added, chuckling.
They walked quietly for a while and reached the next enclosing. Without turning, the stranger grabbed the door handle, yanked it up and the door opened a sliver. He pulled it open some more, but not completely. He shined his flashlight into the cavity and almost immediately turned to Ben.
“You mind staying where you are? I think I’ve found what I wanted.”
Ben could see that the man didn’t like him too close and stayed where his last step brought him, a couple of meters from the door.
“Turn around,” the man now said.
Ben turned around, away from the door. There was no point arguing with a soldier, probably an armed soldier.
After the noise of many things being moved, thrown around, Ben heard the door slam shut and the handle squeak locked.
“All right, that’s it,” the man spoke again, “let’s go.”
Without turning, Ben began walking back. A few steps later, the soldier was abreast with him, lugging two suitcases in his hands. From his heavy breathing, Ben figured the two bags had to be heavy though they didn’t seem that large. Just cowhide traveling suitcases similar to those he had seen at home.
They had walked back, almost to the tunnel entrance, when the stranger stopped and dropped both suitcases on the floor. Ben stopped too.
“You said your father’s a doc?” The man asked.
“Yes…I mean he’s a vet. He works on animals… see?” Ben muttered, embarrassed.
The soldier turned to face him. Even in the dimness of the half dark tunnel, Ben could see seriousness on the man’s face and froze.
“That’s all right, boy,” he said. “We all lie from time to time. To impress someone or…Look, I hope you’ll understand what I’m going to tell you. It’s important. First—you’ve never seen me, understand? If someone asks you about me—soldiers, police—you never saw me in your life. Understood?
“Second, you have to take me to your home, to your dad. You’ll tell your dad that someone has something very important to talk about with him. I’ll stay outside until he comes out. Understood? Now, we go back to my truck and drive to your parents’ house. If your dad’s not at home, tell your mother I’ll be waiting for your dad. I’ll talk to her until your dad comes back home. Now, let’s move.”
Ben was unsure of what to do, though plenty frightened by the seriousness in the man’s voice. Still, he could not leave his father’s bicycle in the tunnel, someone would steal it. He told that to the soldier, and the man didn’t seem too bothered.
“We’ll take your bike with us, in my truck. Go get it,” he told him.
Ben half ran to his bike, pulled it away from the wall and pushed it toward the soldier now waiting for him.
“Let’s go,” the man said. Moments later, they were out of the darkness, into the sunshine. The very bright sun was surrounded by a few tiny clouds. He could hear birds twitter all over. He felt almost as weak as he felt after his last cold, after it was finally gone. His mother had measured his temperature every few seconds, and he thought he was burning alive and had very bad dreams every night.
As they walked out, Ben saw an old, dusty, grey army truck parked to the left of them at the mouth of the tunnel. They walked to it, the soldier now leading and when they reached it, he heaved the baggage up into the back of the truck, then turned and lifted Ben’s bike and placed it on top of it.
“Good,” he said, looking down at Ben, “now, let’s go, friend. You tell me where to drive,” he added, smiling.
Once they were seated in the truck’s cab, the smell of gasoline strong, overpowering, the man turned to him again. “Look,” he said, “I’m now AWOL. You know what AWOL means? It means I abandoned my unit, I’m a deserter. Means they can shoot me on sight if they ketch me. It’s war time.”
As Ben looked at him, he saw that the man was blond, like his own family. And he looked young, though not as young as his brother Tom was, while he was still alive and kicking, before he died of TB.
“What’s in those bags you’ve found?” he asked the man.
The soldier half turned to him, now smiling mischievously, “Huh?…Just gold, just gold…nothing really,” he said. Ben felt his face go red-hot because the man was obviously trying to make a fool of him. ‘Yeah, just gold,’ he thought to himself. ‘More like brand new shiny, oily pistols and ammo, but he won’t tell me…bastard.’
“I’m Andris, what’s your name…friend?” The man asked him.
“Bens…well, Bendiks actually, but they all call me Ben,” he told the AWOL soldier and whatever else he was. All of a sudden, he felt very uncomfortable sitting next to him. Especially, in the soldiers’ truck.
“Bendiks, ha…but Ben,” the man muttered without smiling.
All that happened during the last days of war.
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Text: Steven Nedelton
Publication Date: 02-10-2012

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