More Twisted

agony, his legs cramping, Ron now made slower progress. Still, he could see that—not surprisingly—Langley had been wrong. The drain walls were solid and in no danger of collapse.
    Tunnel Asshole  . . .
    Ron kept going, checking his progress by looking through the access holes that opened into basements and the old delivery tunnels. Finally he arrived at the narrow one that, he recalled from the map, led to a wooden door opening into the tunnel where Tonya Gilbert was. He put his ear to the opening and listened.
    “Help me,” the girl’s muted voice rasped. “Please help me . . .” She was probably no more than thirty feet from him.
    The opening into this side tunnel was small, but byworking a few old bricks out of the wall with the tire iron he was able to create enough space to crawl through. He climbed onto the dry earth of the tunnel and, standing, shone his light around. Yes, it was the one right next to the girl’s.
    He’d done it! He gotten to Tunnel Girl first.
    Then he heard a noise:
    Thud . . . thud  . . .
    What was it? Was the girl signaling?
    No, the sound was coming from a different place.
    Thud  . . .
    Ron suddenly realized what it was. Greg Langley had arrived. He was at the far wall of the tunnel, breaking his way through another old door, which connected this shaft to the deserted basement next door. The sound of breaking wood told Ron that Langley would be inside in three or four minutes. Then the pounding stopped, and Ron heard the man’s muffled voice. Ron shut the light out, alarmed. What if Langley wasn’t alone? He walked quietly to the door the rescue specialist had been breaking through and listened. He heard the man say, “I’ll call you back.”
    So, he was only on his phone. But who was he talking to? And what had he been saying? Had someone found out Ron was coming and was a threat to getting the reward?
    Thud  . . .
    Langley had resumed breaking through the wooden door. Ron flattened himself against the wall beside the wooden door. Suddenly there was a loud crack and several boards fell inward, creating about a two-by-two-footopening. Light from Langley’s lantern shone into the dim tunnel. Ron pressed hard against the wall, breathing shallowly, not moving.
    Finally something emerged from the opening, a wicked-looking pickax. It seemed more like a weapon than a tool. Then a beam from another flashlight—a powerful one—shot throughout the tunnel and swung from side to side. It narrowly missed catching Ron in its circle of light. He squinted and leaned back against the wall as hard as he could, rubbing his eyes to get them used to the brilliance.
    There was a pause and then finally he could make out Langley’s head emerging through the opening. He got halfway through, then once again started to play the flashlight around the tunnel.
    Just before the illumination hit Ron’s legs, the graphic designer lifted the tire iron and swung it hard into the back of Langley’s head, just below the hard hat. It struck him solidly and the man grunted and collapsed onto his belly.
    Once I’ve decided what I want to do, nothing’s going to stop me.  . . .
    As quietly as he could, Ron gathered rocks and bricks from the floor and began piling them onto the unconscious Greg Langley, creating what he felt was a very realistic scene of a man caught by a surprise cave-in.

    Two days later Ron Badgett and his wife were standing near the podium in front of City College, awaiting the start of the press conference. A hundred people milled about. Behind the lectern was a blow-up from a localnewspaper, mounted to a curtain that rippled in the wind. The headline read: TUNNEL GIRL SAVED!
    Sandra had her arm hooked through her husband’s. He enjoyed her proximity and the flowery smell of her perfume. She had a smile on her face. The atmosphere among the crowd was festive, giddy even. There’s nothing like rescuing trapped children to supercharge community spirit.
    Waving and smiling, Chief Knoblock, Tonya Gilbert and her parents walked through the crowd and up to the podium. After a lengthy round of cheers and applause, the chief quieted the onlookers like a conductor in front of an orchestra and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, could I have your attention please? . . . Thank you. I’m delighted to present to you Tonya Gilbert. She was just released from Memorial Hospital this morning. I know she wants to say a word to you.”
    More wild clapping and shouts.
    The pretty