The Tunnel
As Chrissie Marston zipped up her Under Armour backpack, she tried not to look at the plush koala bear that was sitting on her pillow sham. She had gotten the stuffed animal when she was in the third grade, a get-well gift from her grandmother when she had her tonsils removed. The freckle-faced, redhaired teenager knew if she looked at any of her childhood treasures, her determination to run away from home might fade. When she felt her cell phone vibrate in the pocket of her jeans, she quickly grabbed her jacket out of the closet. Then she opened her bedroom door and peeked into the hall. The coast was clear.
This is it, she thought, her heart beating rapidly. It's now or never.
Thankfully, she made it to the front door undetected. As her hand went to the knob, her heart felt like it would burst. She feared that any moment she would hear her mother call to her, but there was only silence. She carefully turned the knob, tiptoed out the door and briefly stood on the stoop, dazed at the enormity of the step she was about to take.
Her hand trembled as she took out her phone and texted Jeremy. His answer was immediate. He was waiting for her at The Quill and Dagger.
With each step she took, the teenager felt the weight of uncertainty press down upon her. Was she doing the right thing? No doubt her mother would be heartbroken and overcome with worry when she noticed her daughter was missing.
Stop it! You've already made your decision.
Chrissie forced herself to think about Jeremy and the life they would have together. They would run away to Boston, and after they found jobs and a place to live, they would get married. Only then, would she reach out to her mother.
With renewed determination, the love-smitten sixteen-year-old quickened her step. In ten minutes' time, she turned the corner onto Essex Street and hurried toward The Quill and Dagger. When she arrived at the bookstore, she saw Jeremy at the coffee bar and felt the familiar flutter in her stomach whenever she saw his handsome face. He turned in her direction and smiled, and all thoughts of her home and former life vanished.
"You want a smoothie?" he asked, as she sat down beside him.
She shook her head; she was too nervous to eat or drink anything.
"Are you ready?" she asked.
"In a minute. I wanna finish my drink first."
The young girl fidgeted in her seat, unable to sit still.
"Relax," Jeremy laughed. "I'm sure your mother doesn't have the bloodhounds on our trail yet."
Chrissie smiled, willing to let him take the reins and trusting that he would steer her through the days and years ahead of them.
* * *
When the redheaded runaway got off the bus at South Station, she expected to walk out the terminal and onto the streets of Boston, so when Jeremy headed toward a group of people waiting on line to board another bus, she was taken by surprise.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"I decided it's best if we go on to New York instead."
As the last person on line boarded the Greyhound, Jeremy gently tugged on his girlfriend's arm and hurried her along. Chrissie had no opportunity to protest, as he reached into his pocket, took out two one-way tickets and handed them to the driver. It was only when they took their seats that she questioned her boyfriend.
"You said we were going to stay with your friends in Boston. Why the change in plans?"
Jeremy looked annoyed, as though he were forced to deal with an over-inquisitive toddler.
"Boston is the first place the police will look for us. It'll be much easier to disappear in New York."
The young man's choice of words sent a shiver down Chrissie's spine. How many young people simply disappeared, never to be seen or heard from again? She felt a certain amount of safety in Boston, given its proximity to Puritan Falls, but New York would be an alien world to her.
"Do you know anyone there?" she asked.
Jeremy rolled his eyes with impatience.
"We'll be fine. Just leave the decisions to me. Okay?"
The moment the bus crossed the Connecticut state line, Chrissie's cell phone rang.
"Don't answer that," Jeremy instructed her.
"I only want to see who's calling."
"You know it's your mother."
Jeremy took the phone and glanced at the number.
"I told you so. Maybe you should toss the phone in the garbage."
"No! Please. I can't be without my phone."
"You're afraid to let go. Don't be. I'm not going to let anything happen to you," he assured her.
It was his captivating smile rather than his promise that gained the girl's confidence and quelled her worst fears.
* * *
After getting a cheeseburger off the dollar menu at McDonalds, the young couple set off to explore the city. The cost of a room was more than either of them had expected. It would bankrupt their savings in under a week.
"We'll spend the night at the bus station," Jeremy decided.
Chrissie frowned. She did not want to sleep on a hard bench; it would be a poor substitute for her comfortable canopy bed. Thankfully, a chance meeting with two fellow runaways saved her from such unpleasant sleeping arrangements.
"We've got a place where you can crash," Joni, a seventeen-year-old from Pennsylvania, offered.
"You've got your own apartment?" the redhead asked with surprise.
"Hell, no! We don't even have jobs," Kyle, Joni's male companion, laughed.
"Then where ...?"
"In the tunnel," Joni replied, as though the two newcomers knew which tunnel she meant.
"It's an old train tunnel built before the Civil War," Kyle explained. "It hasn't been used in over a century."
"And you sleep down there?"
Chrissie could not hide the distaste in her voice.
"You've gotta see it!" Joni gushed. "It's furnished, and one of the guys found a way to hook up an electric outlet down there."
"How many people live in the tunnel?"
"There used to be six of us," Kyle replied, "but three of the kids went back home. Now there's just me and Joni."
The girl from Puritan Falls quickly did the math.
"What about the other one?"
"Nico," Kyle said. "I heard he got into trouble with the police, but I don't know that for sure."
"We've been in the city for three months now, and we know our way around," Joni assured the newcomers. "We'll show you how to survive in the Big Apple without money."
"Sounds great," Jeremy declared.
Chrissie, on the other hand, was not nearly as optimistic as her boyfriend.
* * *
"This place is amazing!" Jeremy exclaimed when he climbed down the rickety metal ladder and got his first glimpse of the interior of the tunnel.
"Where does it go?" Chrissie asked, staring uneasily at the wall of darkness only a few feet away from the beam of a tarnished brass lamp that sat atop a deeply gouged wooden dining table.
"Nowhere. The tunnel is sealed at both ends. The only means of entrance and exit is that ladder."
Jeremy, meanwhile, was acting like a little boy who had found the ideal tree house. He tried the sofa and one of the cots, and pronounced them both comfortable.
"This is going to be fun, something we can tell our grandkids about when we're old and gray," he said, playfully throwing his arms around his girlfriend who did not share his sense of adventure.
"What about rats? and roaches? and ...?" she asked.
Jeremy's playful mood abruptly changed to one of sullenness.
"Why do you have to be such a kill-joy? Maybe it would be better if you got on the bus and went back to Puritan Falls."
Chrissie's instincts told her to do just that, but the thought of never seeing Jeremy again was more than she could bear.
"I'm sorry," she apologized, hugging him tightly.
"Okay, you two, enough with the Hallmark moment," Kyle joked as he grabbed a handful of plastic grocery bags. "It's time to go get something to eat."
"Listen," Jeremy said sheepishly, "I've only got three hundred ...."
"You don't need money, silly," Joni giggled.
"Then where ...?"
"Dumpster diving, buddy. You wouldn't believe the food some of these restaurants throw away. Last week we hit the jackpot: half a prime rib and a whole baked potato."
"You forgot the best part: the cheesecake," Joni added. "Of course, we had to scrape most of the top off because some jerk emptied an ashtray onto the plate."
Chrissie's stomach turned at the image of an ash-topped slice of cheesecake in a dumpster full of rotting garbage, and she lost her appetite.
* * *
The runaway teenager from Puritan Falls woke to the sound of fire sirens blaring above her. She felt grimy and wished she could jump into a shower. She had always taken modern conveniences such as bathroom facilities, kitchen appliances, television and a bed with clean sheets for granted, and now she sorely missed them.
It was not just the lack of creature comforts that tore at her heart. She took out her phone and checked the list of missed calls—all from her mother. As she pressed the delete key, she noticed there were three bars in the power charge. Suddenly, she realized she had left her charger home on her dresser.
"We've got breakfast," Jonie announced when she and Kyle returned from an early morning scavenging expedition. "We hit the dumpster in back of Dunkin Donuts."
Chrissie immediately noticed the outfit Joni was wearing.
"That's my blouse."
"I didn't think you'd mind if I borrowed it."
Actually, she did mind, but she believed it was in her best interest to get along with the other people who lived in the tunnel.
"I don't care," she lied. "But it would be nice if you'd asked me first."
"I'll remember to ask next time. Anyway, why don't you and I go get something new to wear?"
"Sorry, I don't steal," Chrissie said, drawing the line at breaking the law.
"It's not like we're going to go shoplifting. We're just going to the lost and found boxes around town and the Salvation Army drop-off bins."
The young redhead's spirits plummeted. Was this to be her future: living in a hole in the ground, eating from garbage bins and wearing other people's cast off and lost clothing?
* * *
The next day, Chrissie splurged and bought herself a bottle of shampoo at a neighborhood dollar store. Then she washed her hair and bathed with paper towels and hand soap in the ladies' room of an Exxon gas station. Finally, she washed her clothes in the sink and rang them out as best she could before putting the wet garments in a plastic Walmart bag.
On impulse, she took out her phone, her only link with home. To her dismay, there were no missed calls. Apparently, her mother had stopped phoning.
Has she given up on me so soon?
The two remaining bars seemed to mock her, as though proof that her prior life was slipping away along with the charge on her phone.
When she stepped outside the ladies' room, Jeremy was waiting for her, his hair also wet from being washed.
"Have you been crying? What's wrong?" he asked, noting the red eyes and the morose expression on her pretty face.
"Nothing," she lied. "I got shampoo in my eyes. I'm not used to washing my hair in a bathroom sink."
"I have a surprise that will cheer you up," he announced, holding out a brown paper bag.
"You bought me something? I thought you were trying to hold on to our money."
"It didn't cost much. Besides, I gave some well-dressed, middle-aged couple a sob story about not having bus fair to get home to Jersey, and the man handed me a five-dollar bill."
Chrissie opened the bag. Inside was a double pack of Reese's peanut butter cups. Her eyes filled with tears.
"Thank you."
"I figured we deserved a special treat. After all, we've been eating out of dumpsters all week long."
The sixteen-year-old did not dare tell her boyfriend that the tears she shed were not ones of joy, and that the simple chocolate-covered peanut butter candy brought back heart-rending memories of home.
* * *
That evening the four runaways were feasting on a pepperoni pizza Kyle had earned by washing the windows of a neighborhood pizzeria, when they heard footsteps ringing on the metal ladder.
"Nico!" Kyle cried. "We heard you got into trouble with the police."
"No. I'm staying with my aunt who lives on Staten Island. I came back to pick up my things. They're still here, aren't they?"
"Sure, they are," Joni said. "Everything is in your duffel bag, underneath the cot over there."
"So, what made you go running off to Staten Island?" Kyle asked.
Nico looked uneasy.
He hesitated a moment and then blurted out, "I was afraid to stay here any longer. There's something down here."
"You've seen one too many horror films," Kyle laughed.
"All right, don't believe me."
Anxious to escape the foreboding environment, Nico grabbed his duffel and headed toward the metal ladder.
"But if you're smart," he called over his shoulder, "you'll get the hell out of here, too."
His warning was met by laughter from Jeremy, Joni and Kyle. Chrissie, on the other hand, followed him up the ladder and out onto the street.
"Wait a minute," she cried.
"What do you want?" he snapped at her defensively.
"I want to know what you've seen down there."
Nico knew from the look of fear in the girl's eyes that she was not mocking him, that she was as frightened as he was.
"I didn't actually see anything, but I felt something down there in the darkness, just beyond my field of vision."
"I know what you mean. I've felt something down there, too," she admitted.
"I went to the library and did some research on this place," Nico informed her. "Construction on the tunnel began in 1844. Then it stopped six months later and didn't continue for more than a year."
"So?"
"The work was stopped because one of the construction workers, a poor Irish immigrant, died down there. Some of his coworkers claim he was killed by a British-born supervisor, who later buried him in the wall of the tunnel."
"Didn't anyone look for the body?"
"Yeah, but they didn't find one."
Despite the warmth of the evening, Chrissie shivered.
"Finally, around 1861 the railroad decided to discontinue the use of the tunnel, but instead of filling it in, they only sealed the exits."
"So, if the story is true, then the body may still be down there."
Nico nodded his head.
"Don't listen to what the others say," he warned. "Get out before something happens to you."
As Nico walked away, Chrissie took out her cell phone. Again, there were no messages from her mother. Worse, there was only one bar left. If she did not call her mother now, she might never get the opportunity again. But no sooner did she open her contact list than she heard Jeremy call her name.
"Where are you?" he shouted from the opening of the tunnel.
Chrissie quickly pocketed her cell phone.
"I'm right here," she yelled.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing. I just wanted to talk to Nico about something."
"Well, come on back down before your pizza gets cold."
* * *
After dinner, Joni suggested they all go to a movie. Jeremy vetoed the idea.
"We can't afford it."
"We don't pay to get in. The theater down the block has a broken lock on the fire exit. Kyle and I sneaked in that way dozens of times."
"A free movie? I'm all for that," Jeremy agreed. "You coming, Chris?"
"No," his girlfriend replied. "I think I'll pass. I wish you'd stay here, too, because I want to talk to you."
"About what?"
She took a deep breath to steady her nerves.
"I want to go back to Puritan Falls."
"What? You can't mean that!"
"I hate living in this tunnel. I want to go home where I can sleep in a real bed, take hot showers, eat home-cooked meals, wear clean clothes and watch television at night."
"Why do you want to talk to me then? It sounds like you've already made up your mind."
"I want you to come with me."
"No way. I'm not moving back to that little town. I wanna stay in the city."
"And what about us?" Chrissie asked with a shaky voice.
"If you go back home, there'll be no us anymore. So, are you coming to the movies with me or not?"
The homesick teenager shook her head, her throat too constricted to speak.
* * *
Alone in the tunnel, Chrissie felt her uneasiness grow. She looked at the darkness, which seemed to be more menacing than usual.
I can't stay here anymore. I'm going home, even if it means losing Jeremy.
As the weeping girl began gathering her belongings and stuffing them into her backpack, she was unaware that on the street above, the driver of a tractor trailer fell asleep at the wheel and slammed his rig into a telephone pole. The power line went down, and the darkness in the tunnel that had been held at bay by the tarnished brass lamp engulfed her.
Chrissie's shrieks of terror were drowned out by the wail of sirens above. Eventually, the frightened girl stopped screaming.
I've got to get out of here.
She sought the only link she had with home: her cell phone. Her fingers raced over the buttons of the keypad. A moment later, she heard her mother's voice.
"Chrissie? Is that you? Oh, baby, are you all right? Where are ...?"
The display went dark. The phone had lost what was left of its charge.
The frightened teenager fell to the floor, curled into a fetal position and wept.
"Hush, little girl. Things can't be that bad."
The voice, just inches from her face, startled her.
"W-who are you?" she cried.
"My name's Sean," he replied.
His lyrical Irish brogue had a calming effect on the girl.
"Where did you come from?"
"The other end of the tunnel," he replied.
"You've been living down here, too?"
"Enough questions. Let's get you out of here and back to your mother."
"How did you know ...?"
"I'm Irish," he laughed, "and we Irish have a keen second sight."
"Do you know the way out of the tunnel?"
"Sure. Simply follow my voice."
Chrissie put her hand out to grab hold of the young man's arm, but there was no one there.
"Here I am. Come this way."
She inched her way across the floor of the tunnel, holding her hands out in front of her.
"I can't see," she whimpered.
"You're doing fine; just a wee bit farther."
Soon her fingertips brushed against the wall of the tunnel, and tears of joy rolled down her cheek.
"The ladder is only about ten feet away," Sean said.
With one hand sliding along the wall and the other extended in front of her, Chrissie walked forward. Her hand felt the cold medal rung of the ladder, and her knees went weak with relief.
"Go on up, little lady," Sean urged her. "Take it one step at a time, and you'll be safe."
The Irish brogue faded away, and the gruff voice of a New York City policeman sounded from above.
"What the hell are you doing down there?" he asked.
"I was staying here with my boyfriend."
"Well, both of you come up right now."
"My boyfriend's not here, but Sean is."
The policeman shined his flashlight down the ladder, and called, "Come on out."
No one appeared.
"What was his name?" the cop asked.
"Sean," the girl replied.
"Sean. This is Officer Valente from the NYPD. I'm telling you to come up from the tunnel."
There was no response, only silence.
Meanwhile, the officer's partner escorted Chrissie to the squad car for questioning.
* * *
After a tearful reunion, Mrs. Marston took her daughter to a Manhattan hotel. They would remain in the city overnight and make the drive back to Massachusetts in the morning. The girl luxuriated in a hot bubble bath as her mother watched the late-night news.
When Chrissie walked out of the bathroom, towel-drying her hair, she was amazed to see the entrance of the tunnel on the television screen.
"Mom, can you please turn up the volume? I want to hear this."
"... found the remains while they were searching for homeless teenagers who have been living in the tunnel. It is estimated that the body was buried in the wall at the time construction began in 1844. Police have tentatively identified the man, based on papers found on the body, as Sean O'Bannion, believed to have been a laborer with the company that built the tunnel. A police spokesman said that the body showed signs of foul play. However, given the age of the crime, no investigation will be conducted."
"Is that the tunnel you were living in?" Mrs. Marston asked.
Her eyes staring at the television screen, Chrissie silently nodded her head.
"And the young man who helped you, didn't you say his name was Sean?"
The girl turned to her mother and replied, "Yes, and when the police helped me out of the tunnel, Officer Valente went down to look for Sean. But there was no one there."
"At least no one he could see," Mrs. Marston said.
Then, unwilling to dwell on the supernatural occurrence, she picked up the television remote control and pressed the power button. Moments later, the screen went dark.
"Let's get some sleep, honey. We have a long drive ahead of us tomorrow."
As Chrissie closed her eyes, she said a silent prayer, thanking God for her safe return and asking that Sean O'Bannion's spirit rest in peace.
This story was inspired by the Cobb Hill Tunnel (Atlantic Avenue Tunnel) in Brooklyn. It was built in 1844-5, and its ends were sealed in 1861. Long abandoned, it was rediscovered in 1980.
Salem once ran away from home. (It wasn't hard to find him.)
