The Rule of Four Read Online Free PDF Page A

grabs the neck of my shirt and pulls me back.
    “What the hell?” I snap, almost losing my balance.
    He runs the beam of his flashlight across a wooden plank bridging a deep trough in the tunnel. We’ve both crossed it in previous games.
    “What’s wrong?”
    He gingerly presses a foot down on the board.
    “It’s fine,” Charlie says, visibly relieved. “No water damage.”
    I wipe my forehead, finding it soaked with sweat.
    “Okay,” he says. “Let’s go.”
    Charlie walks across the plank in two great strides. It’s all I can do to keep my balance before landing safely on the other side.
    “Here.” Charlie hands me one of the water bottles. “Drink it.”
    I take a quick drink, then follow him deeper into the tunnels. We’re in an undertaker’s paradise, the same coffinlike view in every direction, dark walls tapering faintly toward a hazy point of convergence in the darkness.
    “Does this
whole
part of the tunnels look like a catacomb?” I ask. The hand radio seems to be buzzing patches of static between my thoughts.
    “Like a what?”
    “A catacomb. A tomb.”
    “Not really. The newer parts are in a huge corrugated pipe,” he says, moving his hands in an undulating pattern, like a wave, to suggest the surface. “It’s like walking on ribs. Makes you think you were swallowed by a whale. Sort of like . . .”
    He snaps his fingers, searching for a comparison. Something biblical. Something Melvillian, from English 151w.
    “Like Pinocchio.”
    Charlie looks back at me, fishing for a laugh.
    “It shouldn’t be much farther,” he says, when he doesn’t get one. Turning back, he pats the receiver on his chest. “Don’t worry. We’ll turn the corner, pop them a few times, and go home.”
    Just then, the radio crackles again. This time there’s no doubt: it’s Gil’s voice.
    Endgame, Charlie.
    I stop short. “What does that mean?”
    Charlie frowns. He waits for the message to repeat, but there’s no other sound.
    “I’m not falling for that,” he says.
    “Falling for what?”
    “
Endgame.
It means the game’s over.”
    “No shit, Charlie. Why?”
    “Because something’s wrong.”
    “Wrong?”
    But he raises a finger, silencing me. In the distance I can hear voices.
    “That’s them,” I say.
    He lifts his rifle. “Come on.”
     
    Charlie’s strides quickly get longer, and I have no choice but to follow. Only now, trying to keep up, do I appreciate how expertly he runs through the darkness. It’s all I can do to hold him in the ray of my flashlight.
    As we near a junction, he stops me. “Don’t turn the corner. Kill your flashlight. They’ll see us coming.”
    I wave him on, into the opening. The radio blasts again.
    Endgame, Charlie. We’re in the north-south corridor under Edwards Hall.
    Gil’s voice is much clearer now, much closer.
    I begin toward the intersection, but Charlie pushes me back. Two flashlight beams jerk in the opposite direction. Squinting in the darkness, I can make out silhouettes. They turn, hearing our approach. One of the beams falls into our sight line.
    “Damn!” Charlie barks, shielding his eyes. He points his rifle blindly toward the light and begins to press at its trigger. I can hear the mechanical bleating of a chest receiver.
    “Stop it!” Gil hisses.
    “What’s the problem?” Charlie calls out as we approach.
    Paul is behind Gil, motionless. The two of them are standing in a trickle of light coming through the gaps in a manhole cover overhead.
    Gil places a finger over his lips, then points up toward the manhole. I make out two figures standing above us in front of Edwards Hall.
    “Bill’s trying to call me,” Paul says, holding his pager toward the light. He’s clearly agitated. “I have to get out of here.”
    Charlie gives Paul a puzzled look, then gestures for him and Gil to step away from the light.
    “He won’t move,” Gil says under his breath.
    Paul is directly beneath the metal lid, staring at the face of his pager