The Parting Glass. Emilie RichardsЧитать онлайн книгу.
been heard in the distance, and shouting somewhere down the block.
She explained quickly what Rooney had found and what they planned to do. Jon and Casey had organized people into small groups. One was tearing towels into makeshift bandages to supplement the small first aid kit. Another had stationed themselves as close to the front as possible to yell for help. Another was washing and doctoring cuts and bruises. One group was making attempts to comfort and entertain the children.
Barry the bartender kept a crowbar behind the bar for security. He gave it to Winston, who headed straight for the kitchen. The other kids followed with whatever they were handed. Megan pulled a toolkit and more flashlights out of the storeroom, Greta gave Josh a mallet she used for pounding round steak. Peggy, trying to manage a struggling Kieran, volunteered to go upstairs and look in the apartment for more flashlights, but that effort was vetoed as too dangerous.
Megan promised she would come back with news the minute she knew if the tunnels existed and if they led to safety.
“They exist.” Deirdre grabbed her arm as she was heading back into the kitchen. “Your father’s not imagining this.”
“Do you know where they lead?”
Deirdre shook her head. “We weren’t supposed to know. I think my father’s generation was afraid we’d find a way to get inside and someone would get hurt. Do you want me to go down and help?”
“Stay here and help Peggy with Kieran, will you?” Megan could hear her nephew wailing. The crowd, the noise and the confusion were bad enough for a normal child.
She left Casey and Jon in charge, confident they could keep chaos at bay. Downstairs, she saw the boys at work and marveled. The tornado had nothing on the Brick kids for destruction.
Someone had wanted the tunnels sealed for all time. Five minutes into the pounding and prying, that someone was thwarted.
“Step back,” Niccolo commanded, and the kids did so without argument. He kicked away the last remnants of the paneling and shined his flashlight inside.
“What do you see?”
“I’m going to have to go inside to find out.”
She didn’t want him to go. Even if the tunnels had been safe at one time, they had been sealed off for decades. But what choice did they have? The saloon wasn’t safe, either, with a quarter of the roof on the floor and gas seeping from God knew where.
“I’m coming, too,” she said. “Two lights are better than one.”
“Please don’t,” Niccolo said. “Not until I’ve checked it out a little.”
“I’m coming.”
He knew better than to argue, especially in front of the young men, who seemed entranced at the possibility of marital discord so soon after the wedding. “Okay, but step carefully.”
“Really? I thought we could do an Irish jig or two on the way through.” She winked at Josh. Now that the fun part was over, the kids were beginning to look uneasy. “We’ll be right back,” she promised. “One of you run upstairs and see if anybody’s had any luck calling the fire department.”
Nobody moved. “Or not,” she said. She watched Niccolo step through the ersatz doorway into the tunnel. Rooney, who had stayed to watch the demolition, stepped in after him.
“Rooney,” she called. “Please don’t do that.” Her plea was ignored. She followed, stepping into the space and shining her light all around. Niccolo and Rooney were just ahead.
She hadn’t had time to think about what they might find in the little time that had passed since they found Rooney beating on the cellar wall. She’d formed a fuzzy mental image of a narrow dirt passageway filled with debris, bats and cobwebs. She had not expected a tunnel wide enough for three people to walk abreast. She hadn’t expected massive, roughly-hewn ceiling beams or dirty plastered walls. She caught up to her husband and father.
“Look at this.” Niccolo aimed his light to the right.
She followed the beam and saw a storage cellar similar to the one they’d just left. It was piled with boxes, and the shelves lining it held old glass canning jars, some of which were still filled with garden produce.
She whistled softly. “I had no idea. Look at this place.”
“Let’s keep moving.”
“Where do you think it comes out?”
“It goes down from here. There are steps ahead.” Niccolo shined his flashlight.
“When they built the Shoreway, they must have buried the entrance,” Megan said. “We’re going to find a dead end.”
“No,” Rooney said.
She had new respect for Rooney’s grasp of their situation. She followed, trailing her flashlight along the walls.
The steps were steep, ten of them, each so narrow they had to walk single file, and the ceiling grew lower until she was stooping. They halted abruptly at a small flagstone-surfaced platform. Stones layered the wall, too. Her heart sank. Then Rooney stooped and began to jiggle a stone near the top.
She saw light.
“Nick?”
But Niccolo was already helping his father-in-law move the stone. With every inch, more light streamed into the tunnel. “Get the kids,” he told her. “Then go upstairs. If the fire department isn’t on its way, bring everyone down here. Tell them to be careful. But this is our way out, Megan, and we’d be fools not to take it.”
chapter 5
The tunnel opened onto the hillside overlooking the Shoreway. Niccolo supposed at one time it had extended farther, but the Shoreway construction had destroyed the rest of it. Most of the entrance was walled in by dirt and even a grove of small willow trees. But there was a hole hidden by the trees that was just large enough to escape through.
“Lived here,” Rooney told him after Megan disappeared back through the tunnel. “In the bad years.”
At first Niccolo didn’t understand; then everything fell into place, and he realized what the old man was saying. Rooney had disappeared from his daughters’ lives for more than a decade. At some point in time he had probably lived in this tunnel close to the people he loved but hidden from their view. It was probably due to Rooney that the entrance had been uncovered, then sealed with stone. They could thank Rooney for this escape route.
“I saw you the night of the carjacking. Do you remember that? And you disappeared down the hill. I thought you crossed the Shoreway. Were you living in the tunnel then, too?” Niccolo asked.
He didn’t really expect an answer, and he didn’t get one. Rooney’s grasp of time was uneven. There were still days when he believed his wife was alive, days when he seemed surprised to find that his daughters were fully grown. Two years ago Niccolo had tracked the old man to a makeshift “den” on Whiskey Island, but now he knew where Rooney had stayed on the coldest days of that winter. He supposed that at the height of Rooney’s illness it was possible he had found places to live all over the city, places where he could escape and feel secure. Niccolo just hoped those days were over.
He and Rooney worked at moving the rock out of the way until they were joined by Josh, Winston and Tarek. Megan had asked the other kids to help her bring people downstairs and through the tunnel. The boys were on an adrenaline high. This was a day they would talk about for the rest of their lives.
With the help of more strong arms, the rock rolled away easily. They worked at another, widening the space until Niccolo could squeeze through. Outside, a fine rain fell, and the skies were still dark. But the wind had died down, and the air felt fresh and clean. There was no traffic on the Shoreway, which was only yards down the hill. He motioned for Winston to join him. Winston squeezed out the hole and gazed around.
“Well this