the small passage. He had the blade of the putter lined up with the hand drawn on the switch.
“Do it,” said Stephen.
Jack stifled a yawn and pressed the putter to the sensor.
Nothing happened.
“Damn it,” said Jack. He pulled out the putter and dropped it on the floor. He slumped back against the wall. “I’m tired, and it’s the middle of the night, and we can’t even get past this stupid thing.”
“We could go back to the pole,” said Stephen, reminding Jack of the other passage they had dismissed as too dangerous.
“We don’t know how we’ll get out if we go that way,” said Jack.
“We could try putting our hand in this thing and then wedge it open so it won’t close,” suggested Stephen.
“Are you going to try that?” said Jack. “I’m not.”
“Well this thing doesn’t respond to something conductive,” said Stephen. “We know that.”
Jack frowned and bent his head, grasping it with both hands. Stephen sat down and leaned against the opposite wall. Jack had set his flashlight down on the floor. Now it lit his face from underneath and produced a frightening visage.
“Why don’t we go dig up a body and cut off the arm?” asked Stephen. He had intended to break the foul mood with humor, but succeeded only in giving himself goosebumps.
“Nah,” said Jack. “Wouldn’t work.”
Stephen wondered if Jack was seriously considering his joke as an option.
“I think maybe it’s heat,” said Jack. “Maybe whatever touches it has to be conductive and at body temperature.”
“We could go experiment with the other panel,” offered Stephen. “The one in the white room.”
“Hey, that’s a good idea,” said Jack, brightening at last. “C’mon.”
Jack led the way back through the ducts, up the stairs from the spiral room, and through the attic. As usual with the white room they had to approach slowly — it was so bright that it took a while for their eyes to adjust. They knew from experience that if they rushed into the white room they would be squinting back headaches for several minutes.
Stephen was about to follow Jack down the ladder when he heard a faint squeaking noise from the corner of the attic. “Hey, Jack,” he called.
Following his light, Stephen approached the corner of the room. Jack joined him as he discovered a mess of shredded paper and gypsum concealing a dozen pink baby rats.
“Gross,” said Stephen.
“That gives me an idea,” said Jack. “Do you have that old sock?”
“Yeah — why?” asked Stephen.
“Just give it,” said Jack.
Taking the sock from Stephen, Jack turned it inside out and put his hand inside. He reached into the nest and grabbed three of the tiny animals. Jack pulled back his hand quickly and turned the sock inside-out, creating a bag of rats.
“What the hell are you doing?” asked Stephen.
“I’m thinking the switch needs something conductive and warm,” said Jack. “Maybe even living.”
“That is seriously twisted,” said Stephen.
“We’ll see,” said Jack picking up his flashlight and bag. “What if it works?”
Jack put the end of the sock between his teeth to free up his hand for climbing down the ladder.
“Dude. That’s sick,” said Stephen. Still at the top of the ladder, Stephen looked down at Jack with a sock full of rats in his mouth. He pretended to wretch.
Jack remained serious. “Just bring that putter down here,” he said.
When Stephen joined him in the white room, Jack sat down on the floor and laid out his supplies. He started by tearing off a long hunk of duck tape and sticking it to the blade of the putter. Then, Jack carefully shook one of the baby rats from the sock and twisted the end of the sock again so the others would stay put. The baby rat wiggled around on the floor and squeaked. It was about as big as Jack’s thumb.
Without picking up the rat, Jack rolled it towards the duck tape. Soon, the rat was stuck to the tape which was stuck to the putter. Jack pulled the tape around until the rat was in contact with the metal of the putter and he wrapped the tape to make it secure.
“See?” said Jack. “Rat on a stick. Cool, huh?”
“I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and just count this as sleep-deprivation. There is
“Relax,” said Jack, “it’s just a rat, and I’m sure it will be fine.”
Jack stood up and carried his dad’s putter over to the panel in the wall. He glanced at the struggling rat, and then carefully inserted it into the hole. When the rat touched the switch, the plastic gates closed and the trap ladder started to descend at the end of the tripwire hall.
“Yes!” said Jack. He beamed at Stephen.
“Well that’s something you don’t see every day,” said Stephen. “Hey, how do you know it’s the rat that tripped the switch? What if this switch could have worked with just metal?”
“Oh, that’s true!” said Jack, still elated. “We have to try without.”
When he pulled the putter and rat from the hole, the plastic gates withdrew and the sound ceased.
Kneeling, Jack peeled the tape from the end of the golf club. The tape came off the metal easily, but the rat stuck to the tape. Jack grabbed the ends of the piece of tape and pulled them apart. The fragile skin of baby rat began to tear as Jack attempted to pull off the tape.
“Oops,” said Jack. “That’s not good.” He sat down with the injured rat and tried to remove the tape without hurting it further.
“Forget it,” said Stephen. “You can’t get that tape off. He’s going to die.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” said Jack. He put set the rat aside and grabbed the putter again.
“You’re just going to leave it there?” Stephen was amazed.
“I’ll put it back in the nest when we go back up,” said Jack.
“Oh, like that will help?” asked Stephen.
“Well, what else can I do?” Jack returned to the switch and tried to activate it with just the putter. “Nope, doesn’t work with just metal,” he said.
Stephen took another look at the pitiful rat and then walked over to the switch with Jack. “Let me try something.” Stephen took the putter from Jack. Instead of trying to use the putter to activate the switch, Stephen turned it around and put the handle between the two plexiglass plates that would collapse to trap the wrist of the person pressing the panel.
“If we can just stop the things from closing, we won’t get hurt,” said Stephen. He held the putter with his right hand and reached past with his left to touch the switch. When he touched the panel the gates attempted to close, but were thwarted by the handle.
“See?” asked Stephen. “We can just block the things so we don’t get cut.” He removed his hand and the gates withdrew again.
“No — it didn’t work,” said Jack. “Do it again.”
“Why?” asked Stephen.
“Just check it out,” Jack reached past and put his own hand on the switch, the gates were again blocked by the putter handle. “No noise,” said Jack.
“What noise?”
Jack pointed with his free hand — “We should be hearing the ladder dropping. I don’t hear anything.”
“Oh, so you think that the thing isn’t actually activated unless the plastic gates close together?” asked Stephen.
“Yup — exactly,” said Jack. Keeping his hand on the switch, Jack pulled the putter from between the gates, allowing them to close. As soon as they touched, Jack and Stephen heard the ladder in the hall start to descend. “So there’s no choice. It has to be warm and conductive and the plastic gates have to close.”
“Assuming the switches are the same,” said Stephen.
