Ghost Bandits
Chapter 1: The Underworld
July 6, 1882 - Chicago, IL
|
Jeremy waved his hands and bent his wiry body like a carnival barker trying to entice anyone with a nickel into a tent show. "Look, I'll go first and you follow. This is important, and I need help carrying this stuff." "I don't know about this," Madeline argued doubtfully, looking down at the dark, damp hole and swinging her blond ponytail back over her shoulder. "Why on earth would you want to drag bundles of old clothes down a manhole?" Jeremy sighed, brushing back the lock of black hair that always found a way to flop down and curl its way over one of his eyes. He tried not to anger his friend. "I told you-you'll have to see for yourself." The two fifteen-year-olds were standing in an alley behind a fire station near the upscale Chicago neighborhood where they both lived. The late afternoon sun glinted brightly off the tin rooftops nearby. Though concealed from the street, Jeremy feared someone might walk by at any moment. One of the Suffolk draft horses used to pull the heavy pump wagon whinnied loudly, causing Jeremy to spin on his heels. "We have to hurry! But if you're too scared..." Madeline placed her hands on her narrow hips. Her lightly freckled cheeks turned suddenly pink. "Don't try that old trick on me, Jeremy! You'll recall that I got the apples from the tree in the graveyard when everyone else was scared to climb the fence." Her green eyes squeezed into a glare. Jeremy held up his hands, palms out. "Don't get mad. It's just that this is important. You'll see why if you help me." They stood toe-to-toe for a minute before Madeline's stance relaxed and the smile returned to her face. "All right, I'll help, but remember-you owe me big!" Jeremy smiled; she could never stay mad long! Before she changed her mind, Jeremy grabbed one of the bulky bundles at his feet and extracted a worn pair of bib overalls. "Here, pull these on," Jeremy said, turning around and facing the other way. Madeline's mother was determined to raise a refined young lady. But dresses and petticoats were useless for playing stickball or climbing apple trees. Jeremy often provided Madeline with overalls and as he had hoped, she wasted no time pulling them on over her dress. Moments later, they were climbing carefully down rusty rungs into the manhole. Madeline wrinkled her nose. "Now what?" "You don't want to know. . ." Jeremy said as the sickening smell assaulted him. "Follow me." The light filtering in from street drains was just enough to turn the tunnel from black to gray. They cautiously traveled a hundred yards down the narrow passage before coming to a crosscut tunnel. "This way," Jeremy said, turning to the right. This tunnel had no drains above it to let in light. It would have been black as tar except for a glow coming from the other end that shone like a full moon in a starless sky. As Jeremy stepped into the passage, something scampered across his foot. "Squeak!" Madeline nearly jumped on Jeremy's back. "What was that?" "Relax, it's only a little old mouse." He could almost hear Madeline's eyes rolling around like marbles in her head. She was no chicken, but she was no fan of vermin, either. "Mouse, my foot! I know a rat when I hear one," she mumbled under her breath. Jeremy knew he had better hurry. Her patience would soon run out! They exited the far side of the tunnel into a chamber about the size of a root cellar. The moon glow came from a single candle that had probably been stolen from the nearby Catholic Church. Except for the candle, the room was empty, but Jeremy knew the presence of the candle meant they were expected. "My mother would switch me good if she knew I was wandering around in the old Underworld," Madeline said. "I think it's time you told me what this is all about." Madeline's use of the term "Underworld" made Jeremy tingle with memories of other times he had spent in Chicago's dark underground: a shadowy labyrinth of old ruins and partially collapsed passages that stretched for blocks beneath the oldest parts of the city. Most of downtown Chicago sat on the wetlands that surrounded the Chicago River's entrance into Lake Michigan. That meant that even small amounts of rain produced large amounts of mud. Eliminating this quagmire required the city to raise the level of many Chicago streets. Raising the streets made it necessary to raise the foundations of the buildings. In some areas, this massive project resulted in the creation of underground passages between streets, and earthen rooms beneath buildings. Since the Great Fire in 1870 eleven years ago, much of the underground had been abandoned, left to the secretive workings of the thieves, pickpockets, and muggers who frequented the saloons above. Madeline tapped her foot. "Well? I'm waiting," she prodded. "He thinks he's doing us a favor." The disembodied voice echoed from a tunnel on the far side of the chamber. Madeline jumped. "I brought you some clean clothes," Jeremy called out. The voice materialized as a filthy boy dressed in torn dungarees and a flannel shirt. His orange hair flew off in every direction like a fireworks display gone wrong. He looked about Jeremy's age, fourteen. A young boy of about seven or eight trailed timidly behind him, clutching his pant leg. "So who asked you?" the older boy replied. "If you think your handouts will get us to go back to the workhouse, you can forget it." "I know a better place...one run by a preacher." "Preachers are worse than overseers. At least an overseer don't pretend he cares about you." Madeline stooped down, careful to keep her knee off the damp floor. She fixed an inviting smile on the youngster. "My name is Madeline. What's yours?" Madeline's smiles rarely failed to garner a smile in return. The child ducked behind the older boy's leg for safety. "His name is Dewey and what's it to ya." Madeline stood up and placed her hands on her hips. "And what do you they call you? Not charming, I'm sure." Dewey peeked out and said with a slight lisp, "He's Ned." "Dewey, do you live down here?" Madeline asked, concern weighing down her words. Taking a step from behind the older boy, Dewey answered, "Just since we run'ed away from the workhouse." Jeremy cut in. "That's what I've come to tell you. You don't have to stay down here, and you don't have to go back to the workhouse. Reverend Bentley over at the Methodist Church on Huron Street has a place for you at the New Hope Boys' Home." Beneath layers of dirt, Dewey's face brightened. "Can we go, Ned? I'm scared of the ghosts." Ned grabbed Dewey's arm. "We ain't going nowhere. I'd sooner face the ghosts." Ghosts? Jeremy studied the boy's faces. They weren't joking! He tossed the bundle of clothes to Ned and said, "There's some food in there as well." Turning to Madeline, he said, "Let's go." Jeremy knew there was no use in pressing the matter. He could even bring Reverend Bentley down to the Underworld, but if Ned didn't want to be found, there would be no finding him. She hesitated, and then reached out to Dewey. He placed a small, dirty hand in hers. "Nice meeting you, Dewey." The boy giggled. Madeline then fixed her gaze on Ned. She started to speak, but must have decided that there was no use arguing with hardheaded boys. Spinning on her heel, she marched off with Jeremy hurrying to catch up. "So what do you think about their story? About the ghosts?" Jeremy said musingly. Madeline stopped and turned around, her voice betraying her stance on the matter. "You don't believe in ghosts, do you?" "Of course not," Jeremy said smiling. "But I'd sure like to know what's got Ned and Dewey so scared." "Let's leave that for another day," Madeline suggested, starting forward as she brushed aside a curtain of cobwebs with her bare hand. Jeremy grinned and nodded. "Sounds good to me!" |