Something about the ceiling caught his attention. Not a particular feature — the ceiling was smooth and white, except for the big hole around where the pole came through — but it stood much higher in here than in the other rooms or the hall. He poked his head back in the hall, saw only the dead guy, and looked up at the ceiling. The ceiling was definitely lower in the hall. He shut the door to the pole room and tried the rest of the doors. They were all locked.
He checked back in the closet. The ceiling was definitely lower, and it was a drop-ceiling, a grid of acoustic tiles. He wondered what he would find above those tiles.
He closed the door behind himself and went to the far end of the closet. The neatly stacked bottles didn’t go quite all the way to the wall. He set the knife down on a shelf, put his foot up on the second shelf, and carefully tested how much weight it would hold. It didn’t budge under his full weight so he climbed up the shelves until he reached the tiles. Stephen paused for a second to consider his options. He could go back down the hallway towards the dead guy, but Jack might have woken up, and Jack had a gun.
With no more deliberation, Stephen pushed against one of the half-tiles near the wall and slid it to the side. The drywall continued above the ceiling for another six inches or so and then ended. There he found at least three feet of space above the ceiling, filled with dust, pipes, beams, and cables. He grabbed one of the beams and climbed, putting all his weight on the big supports. Once he pulled his feet through, he balanced with one hand while he slid the tile back into place. It was dark, but enough light came through the top of the ceiling fixtures so that his eyes quickly adjusted.
Immediately in front of him, the top of a stud wall rose to meet the beams he clung to. He figured it was the back wall of the closet. Just past this wall, he could see another drop ceiling, but there didn’t appear to be any light down in this room. He saw the top of an unlit fixture ahead. He wished that he had stopped to steal a flashlight from Jack before leaving the examination room.
Stephen debated pulling a tile from this room’s ceiling to see what was below him, but then decided to keep moving. It was impossible for him to move laterally — the beams that he gripped were bolstered with a sine wave of iron bars, too close-packed to squeeze between.
He struggled down the length of the room before finding another stud wall. He moved one hand or foot at a time, and only a few inches. Maneuvering around the wires that held up the lights took extra patience. Twice, he thought he might fall when traversing a set of conduits that ran perpendicular to the beams. Sweat dripped from his nose by the time he found the next stud wall. His muscles ached and strained.
On the other side of this wall, he found the tops of more lights. These were switched on, and with the light coming through he spotted the next wall only a short distance ahead. He figured this must be another hallway — the walls stood too close together for a room. Encouraged, he climbed quickly over to the next wall. On the other side he found thick insulation beneath him. It continued for several feet before the next wall and another section of drop-ceiling. Here he caught a glimpse of the room below.
One of the tiles below had a damaged corner, and Stephen could see down into a small closet with a folding door. A high shelf sat only a couple of feet below him. His arms and back shaked with exertion, so Stephen decided to try a descent. He pulled the ragged corner of the tile and slid it to the side. He didn't want to reveal himself, but realized that if he didn’t climb down now, he might soon fall.
Stephen tested his weight on the shelf and then lowered himself into the closet. He couldn’t get low enough to replace the tile above him, so he left it and climbed carefully down to the floor. He peeked between a gap in the folding doors. In one direction he saw a long wall with a bureau, topped with a television. In the other direction he saw a door with a peephole and emergency fire evacuation diagram. A “Do Not Disturb” sign hung on the doorknob. Behind him, on the closet rod, the hangers had solid loops instead of hooks.
He couldn’t see around the corner to the bed, or the other direction to the bathroom, so he listened closely for almost a minute. Detecting nothing, he decided to make his move. If this was the room that he and Jack had entered before, he knew he would find a hole behind he dresser that would lead to the secret passage. Stephen folded the doors and moved into the room; he closed the doors, trying to get them positioned just as they had been.
On the balls of his feet he started to creep towards the bed and then changed his mind. He moved backwards towards the bathroom. The lights were on and he looked up to see that the ceiling in here was solid — not tiles like the rest of the room. Something caught his eye: he saw a painting on the bathroom mirror. He felt a chill tingle up his back. A sinister bull’s face looked back at him. Stephen shuddered and crept back to the living space.
This looked just like the room that he and Jack had found. More than the look though, he had that feeling again, like he shared space with where a monster — a murderer of children — had lived. He'd spent weeks in this building, but only this room had a lasting effect on him.
Stephen poked his head behind the heavy bureau and verified the hole to the secret passage. He could pull it away from the wall enough to fit behind, but he was compelled to put it back once he had crawled through the hole, and this turned out to be extremely difficult on his own. Stephen grunted and tugged to get the bureau back to its proper location.
He slunk through the passage, arms outstretched. The ambient light from the hole faded quickly as he rounded the first corner, but he had a couple of rays of light from holes in the passage walls. Once he rounded the next corner, he found only darkness.
Stephen struggled to remember if there was another corner before the vending room. He felt his way along. He turned a corner. After groping for several minutes he reached a dead end. It made sense, once he pieced it together — the hole in the vending wall led to a passage that ended quickly in one direction and continued on in the other. He must have passed the vending room, and the lights must be off in there as well.
Backing up, Stephen crouched to find the hole. After just a few steps, his left hand waved into space. He turned towards the hole and felt around its outline. On the other side of it stood the heavy machine. Someone had moved the machine back to the wall.
Stephen laid both hands on the back of the machine and pushed. It slid forward just a couple of inches before turning slightly and jamming against the neighboring machines. He got the machine unstuck.
Suddenly, a disabling hopelessness washed over him in the dark. He was alone, far from home, and had nobody to trust. His faith in Jack had eroded, now it had nearly vanished. Stephen wondered if Jack had really tried to fool The Management. It was possible, he figured, but seemed unlikely. But he couldn’t think of another reason why Jack would have apologized and untied him.
Digging in, still laboring in complete darkness, Stephen pushed at the heavy soda machine and moved it a couple more inches. He paused for minutes between each attempt. Listening for any sounds, he waited until he caught his breath and then pushed again. The machine suddenly slid much more easily and he fell to the floor. He moved between the soda machine and the wall. This gave him a huge advantage — he braced his feet against the wall and pushed much more efficiently.
In a few good thrusts, he had the soda machine pushed all the way out. Stephen squeezed through the gap between the soda machine and the ice machine to his right. On this side, the lights from the machines lit up the room enough so he could find the light switch and the door. He flicked on the switch and exhaled with relief as the lights came on.