place where several hammers had been left.
That night they ate what might be their last meal for a long time, perhaps forever. Then they waited. They did not talk.
There was nothing to talk about, and they could not afford to attract attention.
When he judged that the snoring around them had achieved its usual fullness and rhythm, Akitada began passing rags and rope bits to Haseo. They wrapped the fabric carefully around their chains to muffle them.
When the moment came, it was Haseo who gave the signal and Haseo who moved first. Akitada had wanted to get to the guard himself to silence him because he feared that Haseo would simply kill the man. But it was too late to worry about it.
Too much-their lives-hung in the balance, and this guard was one of the more cruel Ezo males.
Akitada crept toward the tools, felt for two hammers and a second chisel, and tucked them into his belt. Then he crept back to the tunnel opening. By now his heart was pounding so violently that it interfered with his hearing. Where was Haseo?
At one point Akitada put his hand on a sleeper’s leg and froze, but the man merely mumbled and turned over. He was still crouching there, trying to remember the layout of the room, when Haseo’s hand fell on his shoulder. He heard him breathe,
“Follow me,” and took his hand.
Moving soundlessly, they came to the guard, now unconscious or dead, and, feeling their way, stepped over his body.
The room behind them remained quiet. Holding their breaths, they shuffled up the dark tunnel as quickly and silently as they could. Akitada expected to hear an outcry at any moment, but nothing happened.
When they reached the boarded-up tunnel, he passed one of the hammers to Haseo, whispering, “What did you do to the guard?”
Haseo must have rescued his chisel, for he was already loosening the boards. “What do you think?” he hissed as something creaked and splintered.
“Careful,” whispered Akitada. “Someone might hear.” He reached for his own chisel and felt along the edge of the top board. Haseo had loosened it so that it could be pulled outward.
Other boards were nailed to it. “Can we just shift it enough to creep through and close it behind us? It would give us time when they start searching.”
Instead of answering, Haseo bent to loosen the lower edge while Akitada pulled. Working by touch alone was difficult. Akitada had forgotten to bring a light, and had had no opportunity to steal a flint anyway. The thought of creeping into an unfamiliar tunnel in utter darkness momentarily made his stomach heave. He reminded himself that showing a light would have been too dangerous anyway.
The makeshift doorway eventually gaped far enough to let them slip through. They pulled it back into place after them, hoping that their prying chisels had not left noticeable scars.
Starting forward slowly, they felt their way by moving along one of the walls with one hand stretched out in front to keep from running into sudden projections. They had progressed for some distance along the winding tunnel when Haseo stopped.
Akitada heard the sound of a flint, and then the rough tunnel walls lit up around them.
Taking a deep breath of relief, Akitada said, “Thank heaven for that. How did you manage both lamp and flint?” But Haseo was already moving on. “Took them off the guard, of course. It’ll make it harder for them to get out in the morning.”
Seeing their surroundings was not reassuring, however.
Cracked timber supports and large chunks of rock fallen from above marked this as a dangerously unstable section, and when the tunnel eventually widened and the ceiling rose so that they could walk upright, they found numerous branch tunnels, some of which they explored until they ran out. The air remained fresh and sweet, however. They spoke little, and then tersely and in low voices about their desperate undertaking.
“There are too many tunnels,” Akitada said after a while.
“We cannot waste time with all of them, and how do we know we’re in the right one?”
“Don’t know. Have to follow the air current.” Some tunnels were too small to consider. With the rest they checked the air flow, but could not always be certain, and in the end, they chose to stay in the largest tunnel.
“How far have we come?” Haseo asked at one point.
Akitada had attempted to count steps, short ones since their chains still hobbled them. He told Haseo, who muttered, “Got to move faster. Damn these chains,” and took such a large step forward that he fell flat on his face. The oil lamp flew from his hand and broke with a small clatter. Instant darkness enveloped them. Haseo cursed. When Akitada had helped him up, he said,
“Well, we’ll have to feel our way like blind men. But let’s take off these chains.”
“We have no light. It will be time enough when we get out.” Haseo protested, “But we need to get to the outside while it’s still dark and then run like demons. I tell you, this place’ll swarm with guards and soldiers as soon as it’s daylight.”
“What did you do to the guard?” Akitada asked again.
“Hit him with a piece of rock.”
“Did you kill him?”
“Maybe.”
They continued. The tunnel climbed upward, making several turns but still promising escape. It was nerve- racking work in the utter darkness. They groped their way, taking turns at going first, feet testing the ground, and hands stretched out to meet obstacles. Their inability to see seemed to magnify sounds, and small rocks kicked by their feet made them stop to listen, reminded of the constant danger of rock falls. The darkness raised vivid images of being crushed or, worse, becoming walled in alive. Each caught in his own nightmare, they stopped talking.
And then the tunnel ended.
Akitada had been in front for a while, moving more quickly in his impatience. He suddenly stubbed his toe, stumbled, and fell forward onto a pile of rocks.
“What are you doing?” Haseo asked. He came up and felt for Akitada.
“It’s a rock pile,” muttered Akitada, scrambling up it with some difficulty, because the rubble kept shifting under his feet and he kept slipping back down, causing small rock slides.
“Move aside.” Haseo passed him, having better luck.
“How much is there, do you think?” Akitada asked from below. He jumped aside when a low rumble announced another rock slide. When it stopped, he said, “Be careful or you’ll bring the whole mountain down on us.”
Haseo did not answer. Akitada could hear him sliding all the way down. “It’s the end,” Haseo said tonelessly, stopping beside him. “It goes all the way to the ceiling. If this tunnel ever led to the outside, the rock fall has filled it. Maybe that’s why they stopped working it.”
Akitada sat down next to him. He was very tired. “We must think,” he said.
Haseo gave a bark of bitter laughter. “You’re a fool. I told you so last night. We’ll die here.”
“We won’t die here. And if you thought it was so foolish, why did you come?”
Haseo did not answer that. Instead he said, “You’re right.
Let’s think.”
“We could go back and try the other tunnels. One or two seemed promising.”
But they did not have the heart for it. They had been so sure. Perhaps an hour passed while they rested, dozed, tried to gather their strength for the next attempt. Akitada was the first to stand up.
“Come on. There’s not much time. We must try another way.” Haseo staggered to his feet. “All right.” He started back, but Akitada caught his sleeve.
“Wait,” he said. “Do you hear something?” Haseo listened. “No. Nothing. Just the air.”
“Yes, the air. The current is still there. And it makes a whistling sound we did not hear before. Like the sound a flute makes when you blow it. Do you know what that means?”
“Forget it! You can’t go by air flow. See where it got us.”
