Ike Hamill - The Vivisectionist

“No. Alright, fine,” said Stephen. He grabbed his stuff and headed over towards the ladder to the attic. “Let’s go then.”

“Excellent,” said Jack, picking up the taped rat from the floor. “It will just go in here.” he said to the baby rat as he dropped it into the sock. He paused before twisting the top of the sock again, looking at the squirming, confined, rats.

Stephen was halfway up the ladder and Jack jogged over to catch up.

“I’m going to have to use a fresh one,” said Jack.

By the time they got back to the panel, the baby stuck to the tape had died. Jack attached it to the end of the putter and attempted to use it, but nothing happened. He expected a battle from Stephen at the prospect of sacrificing another rat.

“Whatever,” Stephen surprised Jack.

Jack got a fresh piece of tape and pulled another rat from the sock to attach to the putter.

“Ow! Shit!” yelled Jack. “That thing bit me. I didn’t think they even had teeth.”

He worked on the rat and putter for a couple of minutes, getting everything perfect. “Okay, here we go,” he said. Jack lifted the putter and put the end with the squirming rat into the hole. “Ready?” Jack asked.

“Yeah, sure,” said Stephen. He backed up a half step and put his arms out to brace himself on the walls of the small passage.

Jack slid the putter slowly to the back of the hole and touched the live rat to the center of the panel. The instant the rat touched the surface of the switch, it activated. A loud noise erupted from their right and Jack nearly dropped the putter.

“Look!” Jack said with his eyes locked on the panel.

Stephen crept forward and saw that their fears about putting their hand to this panel were well justified. The plexiglass gates above and below the opening had snapped shut, encircling the putter with their razor-sharp edges. Further along, Stephen’s flashlight reflected off kitchen-sharp blades that had collapsed on the putter as well. The hole formed by these blades was only about two inches in diameter.

“That thing would have cut off your arm,” said Jack, elated. He was nearly shouting to be heard over the racket coming from behind the wall.

“Jesus! What’s that noise all about?” yelled Stephen. Halfway through his last word, the noise abruptly stopped, and his yell hung in the air.

“I think it’s like the first button, outside,” said Jack. “Like a barrier behind this wall just moved out of the way.” He pointed to the wall on his right, back a few feet.

“Well it was a whole lot louder than that first button,” said Stephen.

Jack was still holding the putter in place with his left hand. “Let’s see if we have to keep this here,” he said as he pulled back on the putter. When the rat broke contact with the switch, the plastic and metal gates withdrew, allowing Jack to pull out the putter and rat.

“Wow, look at that,” said Jack. About a foot from the end of the putter, Jack found a cut in the shaft of the club. “Must be where the blades hit it,” he said.

“If this is like the first button, wouldn’t you expect that whatever just moved out of the way is on a timer, and is going to shut again?” asked Stephen.

“Yeah, true,” said Jack. He set the putter down and started examining the wall where the noise had originated. “I know — turn your light off,” said Jack, picking up his light to switch it off as well. The darkness revealed nothing, so they turned the lights back on.

Jack sat down and braced his back against the wall. With this leverage, he kicked at the opposite wall. It sounded hollow, so he repeated his kicks. “Help me out,” he said to Stephen.

Stephen sat next to Jack and they timed kicks at the wall in rhythm. “It’s giving,” said Jack. “But it feels like it’s bouncing on something.”

“Maybe it opens inward?” said Stephen. He reached over and grabbed the roll of tape. Taking about a foot of tape, Stephen wound it sticky-side-out around his hand. He pressed his palm to the section of wall and pulled gently. Pivoting on some internal hinge, the section of plywood came with Stephen’s hand. Once they had an edge to grab, they both pulled and swung the door open. With almost no effort they rotated the the door until it stood completely open, opening to a new passage, but blocking the way they had come.

“Let me pull it back for a second,” said Stephen. “My backpack is back there.” He grabbed the edge of the door with the tips of his fingers and pulled, but it wouldn’t move.

“Shit,” said Stephen. “It won’t close again.”

In their zeal to open the door, they had trapped themselves in a very small area. Their retreat was now blocked by the door they had just opened and the passage ended with the switch they had just activated.

“Looks like our only way out.” Jack pointed to the hole in the wall.

They directed their lights into the new passage. It had the same dimensions, and led off perpendicular to their previous direction. As they looked and pondered their predicament, an unfamiliar noise broke the silence. A loud “clunk” sounded and a set of bars descended one inch from the ceiling in the new passage.

“What the hell is that?” said Stephen.

“It’s going to block the new tunnel,” said Jack.

A few seconds later the noise startled them again, and the bars dropped another inch.

“We better get going,” said Jack. “Unless you want to be stuck here.” He hastily pulled together his stuff and jammed some of the loose items back into his pack. The ceiling was low, and the bars lower, so he slid on his butt through the hole in the wall, past the descending gate.

“C’mon,” he called back to Stephen.

“This seems really stupid,” said Stephen as he shuffled after Jack. “Hey, hand me that putter.”

Jack handed back his dad’s putter, with the squeaking rat still attached. Stephen peeled the rat and the tape of the end and then wedged the putter between the floor and the descending bars. It was too long, so he had to prop it at an angle. The next time the bars descended an inch, they easily dislodged the putter and it clattered to the floor.

“Oh well — worth a shot,” said Stephen. He grabbed the club and they crawled on.

They followed the passage around two corners when Stephen suddenly got nervous — “Hey, how are we going to get out of here? And how do you know there aren’t any traps?”

“I don’t think there will be traps here. We got past the boss part, and it’s usually pretty trap-free after that,” said Jack.

“So you think this is a new level?” asked Stephen.

“Don’t you?” asked Jack.

“Yeah, which leads me back to my first question: got any ideas on how we’re going to get out of here?”

“I’m sure we’ll find something,” said Jack. “There’s a light up ahead.”

Stephen saw it too — ahead, the passage turned right and he saw the corner silhouetted. He felt naked without his backpack. When he reached the corner, Jack paused and furrowed his brow.

“What’s up?” asked Stephen.

Instead of replying, Jack turned the corner and moved out of view. The passage was barely tall enough to crawl through. When he reached the corner, Stephen saw that the plain plywood confines of the passage were colored up ahead. The walls were painted blue, and the floor was black with three parallel white lines drawn the length of the passage. Every few feet the lines were broken by arrows, pointing in the same direction they crawled.

Stephen followed silently. Just past Jack, he could see the source of the light — the passage opened up into the top-side of a drop ceiling. There was an intersection, with passages heading off to the right and left. The white lines painted on the floor split: the center one pointed ahead towards the top of the ceiling and the other two broke off left and right, down the side passages. Light leaked out from various holes and slits in the metal of the fixtures. Compared to their flashlights, it was a wealth of light.