The Offices of M. Coopersmith

Chapter Four

Chris had only just picked himself off the ground and moved aside when M. Coopersmith tumbled onto the spot where the boy had landed.  Without a word to Chris, now standing a few yards away, or to Samantha, huddled in a far corner with her knees drawn up to her chin, M. Coopersmith sprang to his feet and pulled a short metal lever next to the hole in the earth through which all three of them had just arrived.  A steel door slammed down over the hole.

They were in a small room about eight by twelve feet in size.  The walls, ceiling, and floor were composed of cold, moist, black dirt.  There were no beams of support anywhere in sight, but neither Chris nor Samantha had noticed.

"There," said M. Coopersmith, slapping his hands together and admiring the now-closed entranceway.  "That ought to hold them for awhile."

He faced the two scared teenagers.

"Are you all right, children?  Forgive me for being a bit rough with you just a moment ago.  I only wanted us to move expeditiously.  Discussing the matter would have slowed things down."

“Snakes,” Samantha whimpered from her corner, “giant flying snakes…”

Chris, rubbing the back of his neck as he always did when under great stress, couldn't muster the ability to say anything yet.  But M. Coopersmith seemed happy to fill the void.

"They remind me more of eels," their host said.  "But, yes, something like that."

"What is this?" Chris finally managed.  His voice was low and hoarse.  "What's happening?"

"Well," M. Coopersmith began, obviously trying to choose his words with care, "you might say a problem has arisen."

"A problem," Chris repeated numbly, "has arisen."

Samantha got up, came over beside Chris.  "What kind of a problem?"

"A manageable problem," M. Coopersmith answered, "easily handled, as long as we keep our heads."

They heard a thud at the metal door.

"That's them, isn't it?" Samantha whispered.  "Those things..."

"I'm afraid so.  They know where to find us now, which means they've moved from search mode to pursuit.  But not to worry, children:  I have things completely under control."  M. Coopersmith walked to the opposite wall and began scraping dirt with his hands.  Another door soon appeared, about the size of a manhole cover. 

"I anticipated this day," M. Coopersmith said as he worked, "even if I wasn't sure it would ever come.  As much time has passed, I was actually starting to think it wouldn't.  But now it has.  So I'm glad I was ready."

The last clumps of dirt had been removed.  M. Coopersmith wrenched the door open and motioned for Chris and Samantha to climb through it.  "Don't worry.  You won't have to do this many more times."

The teenagers hesitated at first, but a second thud against the chute door spurred them on.  Saying no more, they dove through.

On the other side, the two found a long tunnel.  They knew it was long because as far as they could see—up until the tunnel started to bend—sat small, sporadically placed lights glowing softly blue in the darkness.  The bulbs were recessed within the walls, which, like the room they had just exited, were composed of damp dark earth.

"Caves," Chris mumbled as M. Coopersmith clambered through the aperture to join them.

"That's right," M. Coopersmith said, turning to close the door.  After pounding it shut, he faced Chris and Samantha again, said, "I'll bet you two didn't know there were caves on the Georgia coast."