The Drowned Life Read Online Free Page B

a face as if he were admonishing himself.
    Hatch smiled. “How long have you been looking for her?”
    â€œYears,” said Munro, placing his teacup on the table.
    â€œI’m trying to get back. My wife, Rose, is coming for me in the car.”
    â€œYes, your old neighbor Bob Gordon told me you might be looking for an out,” said the older man. “I was on the prowl for you when we encountered that cutpurse leviathan.”
    â€œYou know Bob?”
    â€œHe does some legwork for me from time to time.”
    â€œI saw him at the grocery today.”
    â€œHe has a bizarre fascination with that lobster tank. In any event, your wife won’t make it through, I’m sorry to say. Not with a car.”
    â€œHow can I get out?” asked Hatch. “I can’t offer you a lot of money, but something else perhaps.”
    â€œPerish the thought,” said Munro, waving a hand in the air. “I have an escape hatch back to the surface in case of emergencies. You’re welcome to use it if you’ll just observe some cautionary measures.”
    â€œAbsolutely,” said Hatch and moved to the edge of his chair.
    â€œI take it you’d like to leave immediately?”
    Both men stood and Hatch followed Munro along a hallway lined with framed photographs that opened into a large space, like an old ballroom, with peeling flowered wallpaper. Crossing the warped wooden floor scratched and littered with, of all things, old leaves and pages of a newspaper, they came to a door. When Munro turned around, Hatch noticed that the older man was holding one of the photos from the hallway wall.
    â€œHere she is,” said Isaac. “This is Rotzy.”
    Hatch leaned down for a better look at the portrait. He gave only the slightest grunt of surprise and hoped his host hadn’t noticed, but Rotzy was the woman he’d last seen at the phone booth, the half-faced horror who’d been mishandled by Madame Mutandis.
    â€œYou haven’t seen her, have you?” asked Munro.
    Hatch knew he should try to help the old man, but he thought only of escape and didn’t want to complicate things. He sensed the door in front of him was his portal back. “No,” he said.
    Munro nodded resignedly and then reached into the side pocket of his jacket and retrieved an old-fashioned key. He held it in the air, but did not place it in Hatch’s outstretched palm. “Listen carefully,” he said. “You will pass through a series of rooms. Upon entering each room, you must lock the door behind you with this key before opening the next door to exit into the following room. Once you’ve started you can’t turn back. The key works only to open doors forward and lock doors backward. A new door cannot be opened without the previous door being locked. Do you understand?”
    â€œYes.”
    Munro placed the key in Hatch’s hand. “Then be on your way and Godspeed. Kiss the sky for me when you arrive.”
    â€œI will.”
    Munro opened the door and Hatch stepped through. The door closed and he locked it behind him. He crossed the room in a hurry, unlocked the next door and then, passing through, locked it behind him. This process went on for twenty minutes before Hatch noticed that it took fewer and fewer steps to traverse each succeeding room to the next door. One of the rooms had a window, and he paused to look out on some watery side street falling into night. The loneliness of the scene spurred him forward. In the following room he had to duck down so as not to skin his head against the ceiling. He locked its door and moved forward into a room where he had to duck even lower.
    Eventually, he was forced to crawl from room to room, and there wasn’t much space for turning around to lock the door behind him. As each door swept open before him, he thought he might see the sky or feel a breeze in his face. There was always another door, but there was also