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EPISODE 49

A fiendish oratorio ensued in the tunnels beneath Waldo’s house... a porridge of splashings and barkings, of chains rattled, shouts and curses. A lantern rose briefly in the ochre chamber, but was just as quickly plunged into the mud.

As the noises separated, Howard lit a match. A huge, gaunt apparition in an old gray coat, topped by a peaked, black hat and foam-flecked beard... its arms weighed down by chains and lengths of drainpipes... loomed!

"Another slave... Jayhosephat, all yallers! Grab the woman an' the young 'un, Gus..."

"Wait!" Howard cried. "I'm free... I'm not a slave. I'm an insurance salesman. Just a moment... let me find my cards..."

"Arrgh!" the creature roared, "one of them Union scallywags. They're here!" He swabbed one nostril with a long, old bony finger, leered, and raised, out of the mess of metal, an old pistol caked with grease and mold and slime. "Well, I'm beholden to yer for the light to see yer to the grave..."

Howard dropped the match and dived for safety. The gun went off and roared a tongue of fire. All hell broke loose in the darkness for a space of twenty seconds. Then the thrashings and splashings died... a long, long silence followed.

Then, a series of growls which turned into frenzied barking from either direction.

"Spot?" Howard called. "Spot... Caiphas!"

Howard screamed and fell as an immense and angry projectile tumbled into him. Around them rose a sea of splashing mud and human screams and hot canine breath that loosed the salesman's bowels and senses.

His reason violently parted... scooting to the roof of the muddy tunnel, scuttling along the underside of the sewer grate.

Suddenly, the barking turned to squealing and a rapid, fading patter of scurrying paws. In the distance, all noise rose to a climax, then died out abruptly.

Howard's soul was sucked back into his wet thighs and aching ribs as sharply as if by the best vacuum cleaner offered at Wohl's, and he rose to one unsteady knee in the muddy tunnel. "Dog?" he whispered, hesitant to even speak the name of his attacker. "Dog? Betty..." he paused. An unspeakably vile taste lay on his tongue, and he brushed a few hairs from his lips. "Betty!" he cried out again.

"Here I come!" she answered. "Howard... here you are. We thought that you were shot!"

"Betty!" he repeated, for his tongue had frozen in the blizzard of relief and gratitude.

"He's not shot!" Timmy whooped. "I bet that the bad man shot himself!"

The running, splashing feet bowled Howard over once more, but it was with joy, this time, that he and Betty embraced in the tunnel mud. "We beat 'em," Timmy shouted proudly. Then, Spot jumped over the Slacks and barked, and shook a spray of dirty water over everyone.

Betty and Howard helped each other up.

"What happened to the slaves?" he asked.

"They ran away. A bounty hunter grabbed me, but I hit him with the shoe that I was carrying. I think I poked his eye out with my high heel."

"Wonderful!" Howard praised her.

"An' then Spot bit the other one," said Timmy, "and both of them ran off, cursing and shouting."

"But what happened to you?" Betty asked.

"Well, that wasn't very nice." Howard cleared his throat and raised a handful of the fetid water to rinse the even-more rancid taste from his mouth, suddenly grateful for the dark. "That shot missed, and that slave-trader and I were wrestling around in the dark until the dogs came, one from either direction, and something jumped on me. Caiphas, I think. And then, well it isn't very clear, but I think I remembered that funny old headline. You know... Man Bites Dog? Well... it worked! Hey don't hug..." he protested as Betty put her arms around him. "I'm dirty!"

"It doesn't matter," she said. "I'm dirty, too!"

"We're all dirty," Timmy said. "Uhhh... do you grownups want me to go around a corner or something?"

"No... listen," Howard said. In the distance, the mutterings of the defeated bounty hunters resonated.

"My eye! My eye!" they heard a distant Slaker brother groaning. "I've been put blind!"

"How do ye know?" the other answered roughly. "There's nought but darkness here, anyway, and the lantern's broke!"

"What did happen to that other bad man?" Betty wondered.

Spot barked... three times.

"Good dog!" said Timmy.

The muddy victors enjoyed one last, wet embrace. "Well, that's the end of it," said Howard and, sure enough, the slaves were coming back to them, sloshing and shouting their hallelujahs.

"Massa Howard... Massa Howard," cried Althea, "...dey all gone, de Slakers. Dey come by a runnin' an' a hollerin' down de tunnel, den dey's gone, n' Caiphas behind dem."

"You whup 'em, Massa Howard," said Elias.

Howard crossed his arms, wishing that they had remembered to bring the camera or, at least, that it wasn't so dark. "Well, I guess I did."

"It was as de ol' man Adams prophecy... he say dat one day dere will be a free mans, come to lead us out ob darkness..."

"Mr. McKee," Bett interrupted, "do you think that you could show us the way to that door?"

"It be a pleasure 'n an' honor," said the slave. "Massa Howard take us tr'u dat door like Moses part de Pharaoh's ribber..."

"I'll do what I can," said Howard. And, with that, they began to walk through the tunnel. Elias McKee directed them at the inevitable forks... right, left, right... with a sprightly certitude that inspired Howard to do mathematics in his head, and to conclude that the damp climate, meager food and unflagging gloom was a cause of immortality, or something near to it. "If we could put our customers down here," he thought, "they'd never die and have to pay their premiums forever." And he said, aloud, "...but they probably wouldn't like it, so we'd have to begin with the people nobody cares for... old people, sick people, different people..."

"We old, but we got plenty left, yassir, because we is yo' people now, Massa Howard," Elias promised, hastily, misinterpreting his soliloquy. "Dem what save us f'um Slakers is our massas forever. We work hard for you..."

"I'll think about it," Howard lied. There was already a wealth of change to occupy his mind.

The fugitives directed him down the middle fork of a three-pronged junction and, presently, Howard's stick encountered the door. "Here we are," he said. "And this might not be so hard, after all. We'll just have Timmy use his scouting knife, the way he did on Waldo's bedroom door.

An embarrassed silence filled the tunnel. "I can't," said Timmy, miserably. "I lost it... back at the fight, Mr. Slack."

Howard was undaunted. "Then we'll just have to batter it down."

So, in the darkness, came a swell of blows and groanings. Over time, the blows diminished in force. The groanings increased.

"Enough," said Howard. "I haven't felt so sore since high school football practice! Gee, I wish Wayne was here, but..."

"It's too bad about the dampness," Betty said, quickly. "Otherwise, we could burn down the door."

"Preacher Adams say de free mans lead us out ob darkness," Elias added, grimly. "But maybe dis ol' Adams lyin'..."

"Well, that's that," said Howard. "I reckon we've got a choice; we could go back to that grate. If Mr. McKee stands on my shoulders and Betty stands on his and if Althea stands on hers and Timmy on top of us all, maybe he can shout for help till someone comes to dig us out. Otherwise, we could somehow persuade the bounty hunters to help break the door down... that is, if they've improved their attitude..."

"Why don't I try the key?" asked Timmy.

"What key?" Betty said.

"The key I found back there... back with the diary and bear traps. The one I'm gonna bring to Show and Tell."

"Oh," said Howard, somewhat crestfallen. "That key."

All was silence, then, save for a rustling at the heavy old wood door. Then, there came a long, slow creaking.

"Light a match!" cried Betty. "It might show the way out."

"You know, we only have two left," Howard objected weakly, but he was far too anxious, himself, to protest seriously. The match was lit and briefly revealed the open door, and more of the same of the tunnel... a limitless expanse of rocks and mud. A gust of wind blew out the match.

"Well, at least there's some way out but, thanks to you, we're in a pickle," he scolded. "What if there's another fork... or lots of them? We could be wandering for days! Well, we have one chance... it's that Canadian insurance policy. I can light it up, and, for a little while, we'll have a torch."

Spot began to bark.

Betty hesitated, then spoke up. "I don't think that's wise. What about your career? Waldo wouldn't like it if you burned insurance, even if it is Canadian. Don't we look down on people who cancel their policies? Well, I think that burning them is worse! Of course you have to do what you think best... I'm just your wife..."

Howard shuffled defensively.

"Well, it will burn a long time," he explained, "if I fold it lengthwise, like a cigar. Like a... wait a minute!... Timmy, close that door! I still have one of your father's Santa Marta Sixes."

Then came the flash of the match, quickly gone, and a weak but distinct blue glow. Howard blew a smoke ring, and a luminous blue cloud revealed the outlines of the tunnel. On they went, the little blue glow bobbing up and down with Howard's footsteps.

By and by it revealed a fork. "Days," moaned Howard.

"OK Spot," said Timmy resolutely, "...which way?"

Spot's barking directed them to the left... a few more muddy steps were taken.

"Good dog, Spot!" said Howard, who had taken the lead with Waldo's blue cigar. "The breeze is getting stronger!"

"Don't you think it's getting lighter?" Betty added.

"Hey... the ground is different. It's going up," said Timmy.

"Lawdy... dere's a hole!" Althea shouted.

A fist-sized black and jagged hole had come into view, easily attained by crawling up a ramp of rocks and mud. Spot raced up the ramp and began to dig at the earth, barking joyously. The hole began to widen.

"It's the end, the end!" cried Timmy as spot punched through the earth and disappeared. He raced past the Slacks.

"Hallelujah! Canada!" the slaves rejoiced. They scrambled after Timmy and were gone.

"Betty, let me help you up," said Howard. "You know, I haven't the heart to tell them that they're still a long, long ways from Canada. I just hope they do alright," he added, as her shoulders, hips and ankles disappeared. Then she was gone, leaving him alone in the tunnel. The light from the hole was glowing wispy orange.

"De light! De light!" he heard the slaves cavorting. "An' here dey come... de Angels of de realm an' Glory!"

Howard heard fire sirens, sighed, and blew a final ring of glowing, indigo smoke.

"It is," he said and leaned against the all, gazing back into the vastness of the tunnel. "The light. It's not moonlight, so it must be the fire. And that would mean, with all our twists and turnings, we have been wandering in circles. Yes, I can say it now... what a night this has been! Well, all that I have remaining to do, now, is to climb out, walk Betty back to the car, and then it's over.

"Or, I could go back down there and stay in this tunnel, and live forever," he said, and gave the matter consideration... blowing a few smoke rings and taking a few deep breaths. Then he gave a harsh laugh, snubbed the cigar out against a rock and, after an agreeable pause, hoisted himself up out of the dark.

"Howard... no!..." came Betty's voice, above him. "You're standing in a, in... oh my God!"

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