The light grew steadily brighter; it both guided their way and kept their spirits bright. The slope began to level off and a relief swept through the three of them when they finally reached the bottom and saw the tunnel stretch out before them.
It wasn’t a dead end, not yet. It was a T-junction, with a tunnel branching in each direction, although their choice was a simple one because the light only came from one branch. They turned right without even stopping. They followed the light like Theseus followed the string through the labyrinth once the Minotaur was no more than a rotting pile meat behind him. Unlike the lighted gel bubble that had drawn Marcus and Helen from their room and brought them to Becky, this light seemed to be a genuine; a beam of sunlight, or at least electric lighting.
The tunnel widened as they left the stairs behind them, and the crude wooden floor that had been laid at the base of the ladder was exchanged for compact earth. He saw old, dead roots poking up through the ground, and a shudder went through him as he remembered the arms he saw reaching up out of the boiling vats of human fat. The skin, blackened circles surrounding raw red wounds that sparkled as if encrusted with tiny jewels, yellow blisters and thick clumps of wet skin hanging from their bones as they clawed and dragged themselves above the surface in a pointless attempt to escape. Marcus pushed the image out of his head and carried on after the girls, who had picked up speed since the ground leveled off.
“Do you smell that?” Becky called from up ahead. Her voice sounded loud and booming when in reality it was not much more than whisper. “Vanilla. Oh my God, I feel like I’m high again. I can taste it, right in my mouth.” She was panicked by her choice of words, and hoped that the others would ignore them.
Marcus heard, but thought nothing of it; his own head spun with overpowering sensations and it was all he could to not collapse onto his knees.
They all stopped and, yes, they could smell it. The aroma filled their noses and made their heads swim like alcohol. It attacked their bodies and made them reel.
“Bacon, I smell bacon,” Marcus said, his mouth dribbling as he spoke. His stomach began to cramp as the aroma travelled through his body, reaching his brain before being shot out through his entire frame like an air raid siren during the war. Incoming, Incoming. Brace yourself.
“Coffee. Oh God, it’s so strong,” Helen said quickly, her head spinning just as fast as Marcus’s, only her stomach wasn’t quite as strong and she began to retch. A white froth spewed from her mouth and Helen collapsed to her knees. Helen couldn’t help but laugh as she vomited once more. “It’s so strong, I can’t take it.” She giggled despite the sour taste that burned in the back of her throat and stung her eyes.
“Come on, why are you just standing there? Let’s go,” Becky asked. Turning, she resumed her high tempo walk and strode away from them without waiting.
Marcus bent down beside Helen, resting his arm over her shoulders, pulling her hair out of her face. “Are you okay?” he whispered, not wanting to speak too much for fear of throwing up himself. “Just count backwards from ten. It always works for me.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze and when Helen was ready he helped her back to her feet.
“We’d better follow her before she gets lost or forgets all about us.” Helen rolled her eyes in the direction Becky had taken.
Marcus and Helen soon caught up with Becky not half a mile further along the tunnel. The aromas had become so strong that Becky had been forced to stop. She stood like a sprinter at the end of a tough race. She was panting. Sweat dripped from her brow and the floor around her feet was sodden with vomit. Marcus had Helen stopped a few paces short of where Becky stood; they understood enough of who she was to know they didn’t need to get any closer. When Becky was ready, she looked over her shoulder at them, gave them a half smile, and once again they walked away as a group.
After a gentle dog leg to the left, the tunnel came to an abrupt and rather unexpected end. When they reached it nobody spoke. The large circular door filled the entire tunnel, leaving only enough space for the light to spill through around its circumference like a corona during a solar eclipse. The door itself was made of iron, solid iron, and engraved with all manner of symbols. They covered its every inch; swirling patterns, symmetrical designs and oriental looking characters. Marcus was the one to take them closer. They had come this far, and he knew that the way behind them was not only sealed but had begun to disappear like the corridor before, forcing their hand and putting them up against a very strict clock.
“What are they? Hieroglyphics or something?” Becky asked, knowing that they weren’t but unable to find a word suitable.
“No, they’re something else entirely.” Marcus exhaled as he spoke, a long, drawn out breath.
The aroma of fresh coffee and hot food was strong still; they could all smell cinnamon buns and fresh bread, vanilla and a great range of other aromas that created a kaleidoscope of patters inside their brain, like a psychedelic montage from the sixties and seventies. Their heads spun with the intoxicating mix, their stomachs cramped from the pain while their legs struggled to support them.
“We just need to find the key,” Marcus began. “Look around, there must be something, a lock or a button...something.” Marcus hoped they would find something as he was already lost in the designs of the wheel.
Marcus reached out and ran his hands over its surface. He was surprised to find it was cold and damp.
The three of them – the ladies joining in a little later, their hands trembling as they approached – searched every inch of the gateway that was within their reach. They found nothing. There were no buttons or hidden levers like all good rich people have built into their libraries. Marcus even traced the outline of the engravings to see it was like some sort of puzzle box with the engravings that needed to be turned in a certain way, forming completely new images that would in turn unlock the door and grant them passage into the next phase of the unknown. He found nothing. Everything was as it was supposed to be. Frustrated, tormented by the aromas and – possibly the greater factor of the three – exhausted, Marcus slammed his fist against the surface of the blockage with a flat wet slap. He grunted from the jarring shockwave that travelled through his wrist and up into his shoulder. Once the dull echo of his knock receded, the ground began to shudder. The door winched open as the sound of old machinery sprung into life.
“Of course, why didn’t we think of just knocking on the door?” Becky quipped. Helen and Marcus gave a short chuckle as they waited patiently to see what awaited them on the other side.