They continued on, but nothing changed and nothing new appeared.
Then Michael heard the ghost again and his heart sank. The group stopped.
“Michael.” That whimpering whisper. “Michael.”
A breeze picked up, but this time it wasn’t something that passed by. This breeze didn’t stop. It came in bursts and changed directions, pulling on their clothes and hair. The sound of moaning filled the air, even louder than what they’d heard back in the hallway. Michael imagined a man curled up in a ball on a sweat-soaked bed as he groaned in agony.
“Michael Michael Michael,” came the words again, and then again, from everywhere at once as the moaning continued. Michael didn’t know what to think. The voice was definitely louder.
“Remind me to avoid haunted houses from now on,” Bryson said. “And why are they only picking on you?”
A new sound pierced the air—a woman’s scream, unnaturally long and shrill.
“I can’t take this anymore!” Sarah yelled, her hands over her ears. “Let’s get out of here!”
Michael thought that sounded like a very good idea. He grabbed her by the hand and started running in the direction they’d been going. Bryson was right beside him—their NetScreens bounced, and the light bobbed ahead of them. The awful noise only grew, and the breeze stiffened into a strong wind.
“Michael Michael Michael …”
Michael picked up the pace, dragging Sarah along with him. And as they ran, the ground below them suddenly turned soft—with every step Michael’s feet sank several inches until he stumbled and fell onto the shifting surface.
It was black sand. The wind picked up, whipping the grit against his skin. The moans had turned into howls now, and the words blended together to sound like some indecipherable language.
“None of this makes any sense!” Bryson yelled. Michael could barely hear him over the noise. He was on his knees, looking around in disbelief.
Sarah was just getting to her feet. “We need to keep—”
Her voice was cut off when the ground below them collapsed completely and they plummeted in a cloud of sand.
6
For a long moment, Michael’s heart seemed to float in his chest and he prepared himself for death. He was back at the Golden Gate Bridge with Tanya, falling to the sea. But relief came when he not so much landed but felt a hard, cool surface against his back. And he wasn’t falling anymore; he was sliding. His descent began to slow as the surface beneath him turned into stairs, and he tumbled, struggling to stop himself.
Grunting with each jarring impact, he braced his hands and feet and finally came to a halt, his chin resting against the hard edge of a step. He closed his eyes and took a breath. And then someone landed on top of him.
Michael screamed, letting out all the frustration he’d felt over the past several hours, and with one huge burst of adrenaline, he threw whoever it was off of him before he could stop himself. Just as he let go he saw that it was Sarah, and he watched, horrified, as she somersaulted before coming to a stop several steps below him.
“Sorry,” he muttered, embarrassed. Nothing like a good friend to toss you down a flight of stairs. “Lost it there for a sec.”
She looked up at him, a grimace twisting her features. She opened her mouth to speak and then seemed to think better of it. Michael noticed Bryson then, lying awkwardly on his back, his NetScreen hovering a few feet above him.
Michael curled his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. He could only imagine the bruises he’d have when he Lifted. The Coffin was expert at physical punishment.
“That hurt,” Bryson said. He was staring at some far-off point.
Michael looked around and saw nothing but the same endless darkness. “Yeah, it did,” he agreed. “And I’m pretty sure it should be impossible for Kaine to create such a complex place. How can he create a program like this that all three of us can barely penetrate and read? Much less manipulate?”
“I don’t know,” Bryson responded. “Maybe he had a lot of help. Or maybe there’s something about him that we just haven’t figured out yet. But it’s pretty crazy. I think you’re right that the only weaknesses we’re seeing are the ones he wants us to—so that we’ll be funneled along the Path according to his plan. I’m jealous of the rat.”
Sarah started whimpering, and when Michael looked he could see that her shoulders were shaking, her head buried in her arms. Whoa, he thought. Things had gotten really bad—he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Sarah cry. He moved to console her, and every inch of him complained. He gingerly made his way down each step until he was by her side, then reached out and rubbed her back.
She looked up and met his eyes. Tears streaked her face, but even in the dim light Michael could tell that she wasn’t angry. At least he was in the clear.
“You okay?” he asked, fully aware it was a stupid question but not sure what else to say.
“Hmm, let me think about it.… No, I’m not okay.” She made a poor attempt at a smile, then shifted to sit up next to him, wincing as she did. “What just happened?”
Bryson was the one with the answer. “Well, we were in a long hallway, then a black room, then walking on sand. Then we fell down a slide that turned into stairs. You’ve never done that before?”
“Can’t say that I have,” she answered weakly. “You guys are right about the code. And Kaine. It’s all really weird.”
Michael studied the staircase below them, trying to see where it ended. But just like the hallway, it disappeared into darkness.
He hated what he was about to say, but it was their only option. “We have to keep going. We gotta get out of this place.”
“Why?” Bryson asked bitterly. “The next one’s just going to be worse.”
Michael shrugged. “Right. And we’ll get through that one and then the next one. Go and go and go until we make it to the Hallowed Ravine and figure this all out.”
“Or die and go back home,” Sarah said softly.
“Or die and go back home,” Michael repeated. He was mad that all the time they’d spent in the Sleep didn’t seem nearly enough experience to get them through this massive firewall. Angry and hurting, he stood up and started walking down the stairs.
7
Nothing changed for two hours. Nothing except the sand that had fallen with them, which finally vanished from the steps the farther they pushed on. The endlessness continued. Steps and more steps. Down, down, down they walked in cool darkness, the glow of NetScreens lighting the way. Any attempt to find a shortcut or a way out in the programming just led them in circles—nothing made sense.