Horacio Ashmont's Arc

Chapter 9 of 12

Horacio lit a fresh candle and stepped through the gap in the brickwork. The passage stretched ahead, narrow and low, forcing him to duck beneath the timber supports. His candle threw shadows that jumped with each step, making the walls seem closer than they were. He found the first ladder twenty paces in, rusted metal rungs bolted into the stone. The rungs bore handprints worn smooth through decades of use, the rust eaten away where palms had gripped. He climbed carefully, testing each step, and emerged into a wider tunnel with better air. The brass lantern waited at the top, still holding oil that caught when he touched his candle to the wick. Someone had left it here, ready. The tunnel ran straight for another hundred yards before it turned. He followed it up a gradual slope, the floor dry and solid underfoot. The passage ended at a wooden door set flush with brick. He pushed it open and found himself in a cellar thick with dust. Stone stairs led up to street level. Through a grimy window he saw the corner of a grand brick building, five stories tall with stone trim and a mansard roof. Horacio climbed the cellar stairs and tested the door at the top. Locked, but from the inside. He turned the bolt and stepped into an empty entrance hall. The building was abandoned but intact, far from the warehouse and Scrooge's reach. He walked back down to the cellar and memorized every turn of the tunnel behind him. His people had their escape route now, and he had something better than hope—he had proof that the old passages still led somewhere worth going.