Dungeon Dreams

By Dennis Nord

Gel and her buddies find buried treasure from long ago that leads to modern mysteries in their town and all the way to Alaska and back! They fall into a secret life with treasures from long ago revealed in surprising twists and turns. What will people think of them in 100 years?

Local police, Canadian Mounties and the wilds of yesterday fall into the lives of these young sleuths looking to avoid the summer blues. A love story develops over improbable time frames with resolution in the present.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dennis Nord
• Release date: Jun 3, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476314310

Dennis Nord

Dennis is a naturalist and who resides on the mountain above Santa Barbara, CA. His love for sharing nature with children extends from guiding field trips to books. Profits from all book sales go to NatureTrack.org.

Book preview

Chapter 1

His shadow staggered across the walls as he lugged his burden away from the opening. Sand scooped in scallops across the floor between one dragging step and the next. One hand braced each leg as he bent forward gasping for air. Loosening his shoe, he watched the sand drain to the floor.

Dust hung in the candlelight. Holding his cap, he mopped his forehead and sized up the hole he needed. He pulled the fob of his pocket watch and turned it to the light.

The hole began to grow from his rapid shoveling. He covered in the hole and smoothed the surface all the way to the entrance.

Outside, he tossed the shovel in the bushes. What was there to come back to? He got that sick-in-the-gut feeling for an answer. No one makin’ me lonesome for home around here.

In the cover of darkness, he left, walking the back streets to Depot Avenue. When a pickup rolled by, he crouched behind a hedge. Closer to the stockyard he heard cattle bawl out plaintive calls for homes lost forever. He smelled the stockyard manure and heard heavy hooves stirring on stall floors as cattle jostled to feed.

Outside a bar, he had overheard cowboys tell of loading cattle after Thursday auctions. Trains left by next morning’s light. In a thicket of buck brush he watched the silhouetted stock cars. Cows bellowed and stomped the wooden floors. More complaining, low moans came from the slot-sided cars. An occasional kick reported discomfort and the fetid air was thick with urine and manure.

Well, another loada heifers ready ta go, one cowboy called out as doors slammed shut on the last cattle car. Alone in the dark, his shoulders sagged as knotted muscle let go. The beat-out pickup coughed to life and trembled and wheezed across a dirt lot and down the road. Cows, blowing and shifting their weight, filled the night air.

The stars shined above the western mountaintops. He mounted the ladder and threw his bag on top the car as he climbed aboard hoping to be far away by the morning light. He shivered as he shifted the satchel for stargazing. He tried to empty his mind while the car rocked with the random movement of the livestock and he thought he smelled their fear.

A locomotive steamed a line of boxcars down the siding to the clutch of cattle cars looming in the dark. The brakeman swung a lantern signaling the engineer to cut the speed and stop. Eight stock cars jolted in a series of chunks and jerks; animals staggered and bellowed. The livestock sounds muffled the metal-on-metal couplings slamming home, locking the train together. He watched the outline of the brakeman emerge from securing cars. The man walked up the line towards the locomotive. Steam and dark smoke obscured the stars and he watched the lights glide by his perch.

She wouldn’t approve, but she wasn’t here and he had to make a break for it. Nothing better would come his way if he didn’t. He shrugged and raised his gaze to look toward the front of the train where the steam chuffed and steel wheels clicked up the first grade.

Not much colder than sitting in the bushes, he thought. He shivered and hugged both arms around himself. His excitement helped push back the cold. With the handgrips he held steady as the train swayed around a curve. House lights receded to pinpoints as he watched the last bright hole disappear. Once over the top, the freight train built up speed and the cool breeze turned frigid. He dropped off the back of the car and stood on the steel rung ladder, pressing his face to the car for protection from the cold. Each rail ended in a click and a small jolt. The steel wheels and tracks washed past him in a scream.

No! No! Aaagg! Screaming into the night he knew his left foot slid off the rung while he drowsed. Terrorizing wakefulness screamed through his brain. He jolted, barely stopping a disastrous drop to the rails. With bulging eyes, he stared at ties flashing between the speeding cars. Fear paralyzed his grip. A bloody video of himself, slammed and diced, played to shrieking wheels and tracks. His ears were full of the roar and squeal, punctuated by clicks, like hammer to anvil. Every blood vessel bulged full capacity, drowning out all thinking.

He stared at the car wall until the spasmodic shaking slowed. For one instant a huge cow eye caught enough light to be seen through the slats. He brought his left foot back to the rung where it took up rhythmic shake of fear. With grim determination, he gained enough control to push to the next rung and the next until he stretched his chest out prone on top the stock car. Jerking breaths of air sobbed through his lungs.

The cold twice more forced him down that ladder, shaking each time. Two and half hours later the train slowed on the Joe Town grade. He swung down, looking for a place to step off. Below his feet was the passing roadbed. Gravel, then wood tie, gravel, wood tie, gravel, tie, again and again. The cloudless night sucked any reserve heat from his body just as it drained the land. He hung on the ladder willing his feet to take flight on solid ground. The satchel swung as he jumped. His feet tripped before he had a chance to run. Falling and rolling, losing himself to pain and panic, his life went into a spin. Getting up, he saw blood dribble where a rock tore his pants and pierced his skin. He smeared it and dusted his clothes.

Beyond the receding train, he squinted at the rail yard looking for inspectors or guard dogs. He held up the bag. Traveler, it said. Dusting it too, he shrugged. He stood gathering himself; shoulders slumped and knees curved in a slouch. With a wince, he turned and started walking straight and tall even though the rash on his butt would hurt for weeks.

He pulled out scribbled directions to find The Courier distributor. The recommended deliveryman liked to talk and would take a working passenger for company. Finding the Hotel Foley was easy; town sprawled along the one straight street. At the front desk the attendant handed him a phone and connected him to Room 32 on the switchboard.

Sure, meet me at the train depot at midnight. You can help.

Good! He looked at the phone as he hung up. He’d be many miles further along before the next dawn, he figured. A smile crossed his face momentarily. It was a good move, first the train, now a truck. Before drawing attention to his thoughts, he picked up his bag and strode out of the lobby.

His plan was to look for rides and work. He knew looking presentable and friendly was important for his plan to work. No one wanted a bum around. He could do this, stick to the plan and he would get there. He still had some decent clothes she bought him. He looked years older than his age and that would help.

He had a cup of coffee and a donut at the Sacagawea Coffee Shop beside the Foley. His little money needed to go a long way. He counted out the coins and paid the woman. He saw himself in the mirror behind the counter and left a little tip.

Not wanting to be seen, he waited out the day under a rail bridge. With a stub of pencil, he sketched the stream, bugs and plants to while away the time. In the afternoon he dozed in the warm sun. When evening drew down, he stood and turned to look back along the railway. His shoulders sagged and kicked a rock into the creek.

Chapter 2

A tiny, metallic clink alerted Gel as Julie stepped on the grate. Gel was always attuned to the unexpected. That sound was never there in dozens of walks over the bridge. Her head cocked, she dropped to her knees, and slipped her fingers between the iron bars and pulled. It lifted a little and she dragged it away from the drain hole. Still kneeling, she grinned and without word, dropped through the opening.

A flash of Alice and the white rabbit zinged through Julie’s head while watching. No rabbit, but she was looking down a hole. Her mouth was a perfect o. Gel was impulsive, but this was so sudden, Julie was unprepared for what took place. What might pass for a wrinkle in a few more years, creased her forehead. She thought about when she first met Evangeline, AKA Gel, when she moved to town. She thought Gel was a snob as she was always taking notes and trying to figure out what she called mysteries.

~~~

The river meanders the valley collecting fast-running streams out of the mountains. Where glaciers contributed in the distant past, annual snow packs melt now, creating spring runoff. The river flows away from sight until it enters town and rolls through the park. Safely in its banks for twelve out of fifteen years, it floods the roadway a hundred feet to the east. Logs and flotsam from a thousand miles of headwaters lined the edge of the bank and spilled out over the municipal park flooding it street to street, filling playgrounds, picnic areas and walkways in between. A debris ring at the high water mark littered the road bank. Kids explored the detritus for treasures but found none. The smell turned vile with rotting carcasses lying bloated in the sun ending the happy explorers except for mongrel dogs. In the last phase, the maintenance crew hauled the leftovers to the dump.

The city engineer tried forcing The McHenry River back under the bridge. Every flood year he had failed. He proposed a new bridge after the third flood. Give the river what it wants, he told the city council. We can’t afford the damages and clean up. One of these years it’s going to completely tear out the road where it wants to flow. The engineer pointed to where the river breached the roadway in his diagram. The first flood washed out a meandering curve in the river, he pointed, and the riverbed leading to our bridge. The river is abandoning it.

After more maps, and diagrams, the engineer presented a cost sheet showing a new bridge to be cheaper than re-channeling the riverbed. Soon after the new bridge served the river where it wanted to flow. Over the years people forgot when the river flowed under the abandoned bridge and no one gave thought to what might be down below.

Chapter 3

Do you think anyone saw me last time? Gel’s hand came up to her bottom lip.

Julie recalled worrying Gel couldn’t get out. She didn’t think of anything else. Now she shifted her feet, looked up at the sky in an attempt to recapture an elusive memory. For the past three days they talked about the bridge and the hole. Maybe there was something they could do with it. Maybe it needed more exploring. Now they were back to look again.

Nope! I don’t think there was anyone.

Gel assumed that was correct as no one stopped to ask what they were doing. Gel mobilized Julie into action and they arranged their supplies on the bridge rail where they hoped it would avoid raising suspicions.

Julie asked, Should we both go? I mean; can we close it and get out, from inside? That shuffle step on the street was repeated and she looked at the grate beside her shoes.

Gel was reassuring and she offered to stay above to help should Julie be unable to get out. Gel’s eager smile suggested certain success. Julie continued the gentle sway.

You go. I, I’m not brave enough. Julie hugged her package to her chest.

Ok, said Gel. After looking up and down the street, Gel gasped, Now!

They turned and pulled up the grate and slid it open. Two bundles went through the hole. Gel slipped in and Julie slid the grate back. It was only a few seconds from open to close. Julie turned her head looking for traffic. She breathed in relief and leaned her back to the rail as she looked toward the river up the street.

Remember to step back and act normal. You know what to say if anyone asks?

Julie almost whispered though no one was in earshot, Yeah, I’m good here, get moving! She arched her back and inspected the overhead cloud.

In the darkness Gel fumbled in her bag looking for her flashlight.

Shoulda gotten it out before jumping, she grumbled to herself.

With her light, she saw the bridge arched ceiling to floor, like the top half of a large pipe. The flat bottom was filled with sand leaving six to seven feet open. It tapered to the edges. It seemed much further, grate to grate, than walking across the street. Her slow walk in the dark was deliberate for safety. With her elbows pulled in, she held her light and strained to see. She startled at the few rocks in the floor, but found it generally flat. When the river flowed it wasn’t flat. Gel reasoned the abandoned water channel was buried in sand so there were few exposed rocks. She reached the back wall and found it blocked just as she saw the other end with a grate. They had tried this grate from above, but found it tight. Narrow shafts of light cut through the grate, piercing the dark and lighting the floor. The floor sloped up so she could reach the grate when she lifted her arms. She pushed on it and then harder; still no movement.

Probably the way they’re supposed to be. Wonder why the other was loose?

She realized how quiet and cautious she was being and let out a sigh and relaxed. She estimated the river had been three or four feet lower and the water line must be covered. The workers filled in the floor before closing the bridge, though she couldn’t fathom why.

She turned and walked back and her gut sank at the sight of the grate filling the hole. She knew she agreed to this and still she felt a flutter as she approached. Her first visit, she managed to scramble out, but she didn’t know if she could push the grate out. What if Julie were gone? She listened. She didn’t want to yell if someone else was there. Nothing. She heard no cars.

Julie, safe to open the grate? Gel whispered.

Yeah, come on out. Julie watched the wind blow the tree across the street.

Pushing up, Gel lifted one side of the grate and began sliding it. Then she lined up her body and pushed it the rest of the way. She looked up at Julie looking down at her.

What’d you see? whispered Julie with excitement.

Come on down! It’s like spelunking, but way more room. I saw those guys on TV crawl around in caves. They find all kinds of weird animals and stuff!

Julie didn’t hesitate. Even the mention of weird animals didn’t stop her. She slipped through the hole in an instant and landed beside Gel.

Gel instructed her as she pulled the grate in place. They heard a couple of cars roll over the bridge. The Doppler sound of tires on pavement grew louder and then fainter.

I’ve never been run over by a car before, said Gel. They laughed.

It’s funny idea, said Julie. At least there’re no scary animals. Not even many spiders. She looked around at the ceiling and walls.

They lit candles to save their batteries. With no wind, the candles offered steady light and a pleasant glow in all directions, better than the flashlight.

Look at all the cool shadows we make! Julie made finger puppets on the wall. Old childhood memories flashed back and they tried the popular figures. Julie stared at her candle flame, enjoying the glow against the dark. Far in the back of her brain was a primal tickle, familiar. On the street above they heard footsteps. Someone walked by their grate on the road. They turned towards the hole and held their breath while the walker passed. The sunlight dimmed and returned, then the footsteps receded. It was somehow intimate and they giggled, enjoying their invisibility.

Julie said, We could probably freak someone out, especially at night, by talking to them as they go by. Might work best by the grate that’s stuck. If they tried it and couldn’t get it up, they’d think it was a ghost!

It might be fun but the risk involved was higher than the pleasure of scaring someone. It might be them that were trapped and more vulnerable.

Makes a great hideout, said Gel.

Yeah, like a tree house, without trees, replied Julie, I think we just got a clubhouse!

That might be fun, and we didn’t have to risk our necks hanging out in a tree. We could bring in some stuff and kick back. Our own place! said Gel.

They experimented with the candles as they saw black, smoky soot rising from the flame. Gel held one to the ceiling and found it left a sooty blob. Next she moved it around and drew a smiley face. Julie laughed and held up her candle and wrote, G & J’s clubhouse, on the ceiling next to the smiley face. The writing was a series of connected soot circles, each an inch and a half. The soot moved with the tiny breeze making irregular orbs. They noticed no graffiti or writing except chalk numbers from construction. They surmised no one else had been in the cavern since the river moved. Apparently no one thought to try the grate.

Yeah, that makes it a real secret. We need to be really careful so people don’t see us come and go. Said Julie. Did you see footprints your first time?

They didn’t find any other than theirs. They concluded there would be no buried treasure, but the idea was too enticing to give up that easily and they began a slow inspection of the floor that came to a fruitless end.

I guess that’s just a dumb idea from too many movies, concluded Gel. But it’s a great cave. It’s dry even after the rain a couple days ago. It doesn’t smell too bad. Plus, it’s cool and I doubt it changes temperature much since it’s all below ground.

There’ no mice or rats, that’s what I was afraid of, said Julie. No power for electronics though. She tried her cell phone. Nope, no cell either. She continued looking at the light in the cell phone window. All the cement and steel in the bridge blocked the nearby cell tower. Julie tried remembering about transmission through solid materials and decided she would need to look it up.

Would they invite anyone to share the club? They wanted to be careful since they would lose access if any adult noticed them coming or going. What could they do here? It was one thing to discover a hidden, unused space, but then what? They considered, playing games, escaping bad weather and not having to stay home. No parties as that would blow their secrecy, but it was hard having a secret if no one knew about it. The open-ended opportunity challenged their creativity.

On a practical vein, they considered hazards. The bridge would stand up like it always has. There was no fire hazard as there was nothing to burn, no pipes, no wires. They checked off all the usual safety concerns. There hadn’t been any evidence of animals and the air was good. They considered being trapped and realized that was a real danger, though it seemed remote. Unless someone sealed the grate, they could open it, so the best a foe could do, would be to block it. Besides they could always yell for help. Getting away from people, mostly parents, made the risk acceptable. No one could know where they were or what they were doing when they entered the cave.

They moved from danger to decorating. They needed a few things. The opportunity of ownership leads people to make space their own. A carpet would be good, to sit on as chairs weren’t going to fit down the hole. They mentally tried out ideas and rejected objects too large for the hole. Maybe they could dig out shelves and seats.

They looked at their writing on the ceiling before leaving and blew out the candles beneath the grate. In the dark, Gel got an idea. It’s a Dungeon. It’s certainly no tree house!

Dungeon? Hmmm, isn’t that a castle prison? I don’t want to get trapped, that’s for sure!

Oh, come on, it fits! It’s under ground; it’s dark, especially without candles or flashlights. Maybe it’s not Goth, but it’s got character, like a dungeon.

Well, Goth, that might be interesting. We aren’t Goth, but that’s better than a prison, more like part of the castle, maybe the castle keep, dungeon keep? Yeah, dungeon for short. I feel like we own something, that’s cool.

Gel wasn’t sure what Julie was getting at, but it seemed she wasn’t opposed to the dungeon idea and that was good enough. Maybe she would look the word up to see what it really meant.

Chapter 4

They called back and forth or texted about the Dungeon. The size of the grate was a constant concern along with moving things in without being seen. Even getting stuff to the park without arousing suspicion was difficult.

Julie described a discarded carpet set out for the charity truck. She hid the carpet in the bushes between their house and the neighbor’s. The truck took the refrigerator and her mom assumed the carpet went too.

The carpet is pretty big so we’ll have a good clean space we can sit on in the dungeon Julie said. It was much too large and heavy to lug to the park.

Gel said, It sounds great, but what are people going to think of two girls carrying a carpet across town?

I’ll come up with something, Julie replied. At home, Julie sat, looking out the window of her room. She watched the sunset colors fade.

Gel described the wooden boxes and boards she found for shelves and sitting. I’m out in the garage, looking at stuff. This one box might not go through the hole Shoulda measured the hole when we were there. She paused, I saw a water jug, a big one we can use for water. I’m sure it’ll go down. We probably both have posters we don’t put up at home. In the Dungeon we won’t have to explain them to parents. Putting up posters and graphics would be challenging due to the curve and the hard cement the walls were made of. Creativity would be required.

They brought all the candles they could bring without them being missed at home. The thrift store was a source they could afford. As they talked about candles, Julie had the idea that candle wax might hold posters on the rough texture of the Dungeon concrete walls.

Gel said, At least there’s nothing to burn so we don’t have to worry about starting a fire. It’s all concrete and sand.

Hey, let’s take some games. On a rainy day we could play games!

That’s good. I never get to play Monopoly; everyone’s too busy. That’d be fun! As an only child, Gel rarely played games. Her professional parents were busy preparing for work or taking her places. As she got older Gel wanted more time for herself and friends. The Dungeon fit that need too.

Gel said, I talked to Allie and she wants to be in the Club. I know she can keep a secret and she can help us with the carpet when we’re ready.

Good, we’re ready. Have her come see the Dungeon soon.

They concluded that they would not invite anyone else. It seemed like a good idea to keep the group small.

Julie’s sister’s had a truck that could deliver the carpet. Julie hatched a plan to get Jackie’s help. She would load the carpet in the truck and ask Jackie to drop her on her way to work. I’ll be at her truck when she’s ready to leave, said Julie.

That next morning Julie stuffed the carpet into Jackie’s pickup box and was standing by the hood when she came out.

What’s up, squirt? asked the big sister.

I need a ride, Jack. Can you drop me at the park? It’s on your way.

Yep, hop in.

Jackie didn’t even see the carpet. Julie knew she was a zoner in the morning. When they drew near the park, Jackie said, Here we are.

Just a little further please, over there by the first bridge. Julie told Jackie to hold for a minute while she