Page 60 of Tiger's Trek
Unable to get his lamp lit again, he decided to look for another exit or at least try to find some supplies to shed a little light on his surroundings. Reaching the bottom of the steps, he stretched out his arms and came upon the stone wall on either side of him very quickly. Keeping one hand on the right wall, he followed it all the way to one end, estimating it stretched the length of the house, then turned and began tracing its length back on the other side, hoping there was more to the place than just a long tunnel.
That’s when he found the little alcove. It’s also when he stumbled, stirring something that made a strange sound that sent chills through his body, though he couldn’t place the noise.Chink, chink. The sound was loud at first, and then soft, and then went still.
Nik guessed the room he’d found had once served as a root cellar or dugout. Many old houses had such spaces used to store items. His father had wanted one, but their land had proved far too rocky.
Wind chimes, he thought.That’s what it sounds like. But no, that doesn’t make sense. Who would put wind chimes in a place like this?
His foot brushed something, and he heard it again.Chink, chink.
He felt a cool kiss of air on the back of his neck and realized he was sweating profusely. Swiping his forehead and upper lip, he called out quietly, “Is anyone here?”
There was no answer but the sound of his hot breath as it peppered the viscous dark. “Of course no one’s here,” he said, forcing a meager chuckle that deflated too quickly. Groping for a shelf or a barrel, Nik came up with nothing. He slid his foot forward again, but something definitely blocked his path, likely the same thing that had caused him to stumble.Chink, chink, chink.
“What is that?” he said. “Glass bottles, perhaps? Maybe this was where they stored wine.”
Crouching down in the pitch black, he gingerly felt for the obstruction. His hand found the clanking chains first. A part of him was relieved to know the source of the sound, but then, when his fingers slipped through the ring, and he ran his fingertips up the chain to the place where it was embedded in the wall, a cold dread filled him. Nik knew what he’d find next. He didn’t want to be right, but he was well-versed enough in the depravity of men to trust his gut.
If he could have run, he would have. The last thing he wanted to do was confirm his suspicions. But he needed to know if there was a way out somewhere beyond this room. Steeling himself, he swallowed, the blackness feeling as thick to him as the borscht his mother had sometimes made.
He’d always despised that soup. His father never let her use meat or potatoes. He always demanded it be made the way his own mother had done it back in the old country. It was as sour as his disposition—full of vinegar and as red as his cheeks and neck when he was drunk and angry.
Nik’s hands brushed cloth, then a thin arm. He pulled back. The sound of weeping filled his ears. Closing his eyes, Nikolai licked his dry lips and stretched out his hand again. He took hold of the arm, wrapping his hand around it, feeling with his fingers. It was nothing but bone. Nikolai heard a snap, and a spark of light filled the tunnel behind him. It came from his forsaken and now broken lantern that lay near the bottom of the stairs.
Carefully, he made his way back, following the tiny, flickering flame. Picking up the lamp, he again tried to leave the way he’d entered but found it locked as before. His shoulders slumped. “Now that I know, you want me to see. Is that right, Mama?” he asked. “Very well. Show me what you will.”
Returning to the room, he lifted his little lantern high and gasped. In a small room, maybe twelve feet wide and twelve feet long, he saw more than a dozen skeletons all seated next to one another with arms stretched up over their heads. It looked as if the skulls shrunk in size from the right side of the room to the left.
“The man killed his own children,” Nik said. Sinking to his knees next to the smallest skeleton, he picked up a hand-carved horse on wheels. His eyes were hot. Burning with hate and rage, but there was nothing he could do about it. It was too late. These children were gone.
He heard the crying again. It was Mama.
“I’m so sorry, Mama,” Nik said as he sat in the hall of horrors. “I see what happened to all your deti. Was there no one to protect them from the monster?”
Suddenly, Nik couldn’t breathe. It was as if his own mother was crying, and she was asking Nik why he didn’t stay and protect her deti. Instead, he ran. He became the monster that killed them.
“Forgive me, Mama,” he begged. “I loved them too.” Nik clutched the toy horse to his chest and sobbed. “Please, Mama. Take me with you. I don’t want to be alone anymore. It’s too hard. Don’t make me see. Take them away.”
Just then he heard a voice from above, and it wasn’t his own mother or even the ghost mama. “Weren’t supposed ta see this,” a deep male voice said.
Nik froze, feeling the prick of a sword at his back.
“Technically, he wasn’t supposed to survive either,” another man said.
“Right, but he did. Can’t let him now, for sure. He’d spread word, wouldn’t he?”
“Not like you were plannin’ on it anyway.”
“Right. Was hoping the fall woulda killed ya and done the job for me, but seeing as how you’re still alive, I suppose we’re gonna have to take care of ya all proper like.”
The other man said, “House is lookin’ real nice though. Ya did good work, boy.”
“Shut up, Andrey!” the other man said. “Ya garrulous lout.”
“I’m just sayin’ since we’re keepin’ the house, the rubles, and killin’ ’im and whatnot, least we could do is honor ’is effort. Otherwise, we can’t expect ta mundify ourselves, can we? How we gonna hold our heads up in front of the townsfolk or at church? If we gonna do it, best do it proper like. Now do ya wanna prick him here, string him up, or chain him with these poor lost souls?”
Nik raised his hands in a show of surrender. “If you’re worried about your souls or holding your heads up among the townsfolk, then have no fear, for I am more worthy of death than most. As far as the coins or the money, I care nothing for it. You can have it. But if you are truly related to these poor children in any way, I beg you to lay them to rest in a proper fashion. Their mother mourns grievously for them. I’ll help you, if you wish, just... just restore this poor family. Redeem them. Please! Do what you will with me when it’s done.”
After a few seconds of silence, he heard the second man, Andrey, speak. “He’s right. These deti were the brothers and sisters of your dyedushka. We need to do right by them. Besides, I believe him. Look at the house. The old dom is beautiful! Clearly your prababushka ghost likes him. That must mean something. Da?”
