Note -- all the characters in this story are over 18. It is an obvious fantasy. Do not read this if descriptions of sex offend you.
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I hadn't been a student at Garfield College for very long when I first heard about the tunnels. The campus, they said, was once heated by steam. Huge tunnels carried the steam from the main boiler to all of the buildings. Most of the buildings on campus were still connected by these tunnels, which were no longer maintained or used. The entrances had been sealed. No one was allowed in the tunnels any more, and they were rumored to be falling apart. With my interest in archeology and the catacombs under Rome, I was fascinated by these tunnels, and often asked questions, but it seemed that no one really knew any answers.
Garfield College was a small privately owned Liberal Arts college. It nestled in the small town of Castle Rock, Ohio. The campus resembled an old world abbey more than a modern University. The buildings were close together and made of stone. The town had grown up around the campus, and at least a third of the people in the town were students, faculty, or support staff. Nothing interesting ever seemed to happen, and that was the way the administration liked it. Lots of wealthy parents sent their spoiled little brats to school there because they felt that they were safe. Of course the school had its share of poor kids like me that had to work for our education, but the rich kids pretty much managed to ignore us. They had their own issues. Most of them didn't want to be stuck in the middle of nowhere.
Not long after I arrived, four sorority girls ran away. Their note said they hated the school, and were going to New York. It was a brief scandal, but it faded from everyone's mind relatively quickly. I probably wouldn't have even remembered that they ran away except that one of the girls was in my Intro to Archeology class. She used to sit three seats forward of me and two to the right. Even when she was bored in class, she had a way of holding her body so exquisitely that it made my blood boil. Every curve would transfer to the outside of her expensive designer clothes. Archeology got a lot more boring when she wasn't there to watch any more -- but I probably got a better grade because she left.
I probably would never have learned anything about those tunnels if it hadn't been for my Sophomore year campus job. As I mentioned, I was poor and had to work. I got hired in the wood shop in the basement of the student center. For just over minimum wage, I built teaching tools for professors, display cases for departments, and Greek knick-knacks for Fraternities and Sororities. I was good at it, and would often finish my work early. At first, I would just stand around until quitting time -- but that was really boring. No one paid any attention to me, so I began to explore the basement where I worked. That was how I stumbled on the entrance to the steam tunnel. It opened into the mechanical room behind the new HVAC equipment. It was covered by a heavy steel door, and locked with a large hasp and padlock. As if this were not enough, a faded "Danger - do not enter" sign hung crookedly on the center of the door. I had found the portal to another world, and I knew instantly that I would have to explore it.
More than just the mystery, there was something that seemed out of place. If the tunnels were rotting, why was the lock on the door bright and shiny? Over the next several weeks, I returned to the door again and again. Sometimes, the lock was slipped into the hasp from the left, and sometimes it was slipped in from the right. Someone was using that door, and I aimed to find out who it was, and why. I sprinkled fine sawdust down in front of the door. The next morning, there were faint footprints in the sawdust, both coming and going.
Archeology may have been my passion, but I wasn't bad at science, either. The next Friday, I sprinkled fluorescent dye powder in front of the door. The following Monday, I turned off the lights and used a black light. Two sets of glowing footprints led across the room to an old cabinet, and then faded as they headed out the door. Two days, and two sets of footprints. Interesting! I turned on the lights, and searched the cabinet. Near the back, I found the key to the padlock. Whoever was going in and out had to be doing it at night, or he would be caught. I didn't want to tip them off that I was on to them, so I left everything the way it was and started to plan.
The next morning, I swung by the craft shop and got the key. I skipped Economics class, and had the key copied at the local Ace hardware. Then I slipped the original back in its hiding spot in time for Composition. The teacher droned on and on about writing a five paragraph essay, but I didn't hear a word she said. I was planning my expedition into the tunnels.
There were several things I had to plan for. First of all, I couldn't get caught. That would surely lead to trouble -- possibly even expulsion. I didn't have rich parents to fall back on, so that would not be good. I also needed to make sure I didn't get lost. I'd have to lay out the classic string as I went in. Finally, I'd better plan to be gone for some time. I'd need supplies.
When Friday evening rolled around again, I was ready. I waited until almost quitting time. Then I went to the office, and punched out. Instead of leaving, I slipped into the maintenance room and hid in the opposite corner. It seemed like forever before I heard the last person leave the building. I opened my cell phone, and using its dim light, I made my way to the door. It unlocked easily, and opened on remarkably silent hinges. The air behind it was a little musty, but the tunnel was round and remarkably clean. I could almost stand up in it. I took a few steps inward, and the door slowly closed behind me. I whirled around, and scrambled back into the familiar maintenance room, surprised at the volume of my hammering heart. I locked the door, and then headed home for the night. The building doors clicked shut and locked behind me as I left.
Back home, I couldn't sleep. I couldn't enter the tunnel during the day, because someone might see the unlocked door and investigate. Entry at night was problematic, because whoever was entering and leaving might discover me. I was at a loss as to how to investigate, but never entering the tunnels again was not a realistic option for me. Surely the other guy had some secret. He was either leaving the lock open when he went in, or he had made some modification to allow him to exit with the door locked. It had to be the hasp.
The next morning, I went in to work again even though I was not on the schedule. I slipped into the maintenance room, and locked the door behind me. Then I opened the tunnel door. The hasp was quite secure, but it was held to the wall by through bolts, and the nuts were only finger tight on the other side. That's how the tricky little bastard was doing it!
It took me 30 minutes to go back to my apartment and gather my supplies from before. On a hunch, I also grabbed the black light. Then I headed back.
Inside the maintenance room, I slipped into the tunnel entrance and loosened the nuts securing the hasp. The whole hasp fell loose from the wall, and I locked it back in place on the door. I set my supplies inside, and then I gently shut the door, feeding the bolts that secured the hasp back into place. With the door shut behind me, I replaced the nuts that held the hasp in place, and then I knew I was in.
In the light of my LED flashlight, the tunnel stretched off into blackness. I walked in silence. In only a few hundred feet, it joined a wider tunnel -- this one tall enough I could stand in easily. I visualized the campus above me, and turned towards the old boiler building. This tunnel quickly joined another and another, and soon I was completely lost. I had forgotten to lay out the string. I tried to retrace my steps, but everything looked the same. I tried passage after passage, but none of the metal doors I found had the two hand tight nuts on the side to release the hasp. I could feel myself begin to panic. I was in real trouble.
Luckily, my parents didn't raise a fool. I knew that panic would get me nowhere. I forced myself to calm down and take stock. My LED light would soon be out of batteries. No problem, I still had a phone and a black light. A black light? Wouldn't that show the other guy's footprints if he walked through that powdered dye?
