The answer was a low groan, sounding farther away than before. Joan stepped in, hands stretched out ahead.
She hurried till her hands felt the rough serge of Chub’s coat—at least that was familiar. Nothing else was in this terrible, eerie place. Of course, having been in the tunnel before, she had some idea what it was like, though she could not see. This seemed to be a smaller part of it, for she could almost touch the stone wall on each side with hands outspread. Chub was crouching along, half stooped—he did not know how high the tunnel was. Joan was walking erect, when suddenly something banged into her forehead. Something hard and cold and without anything attached to it. It hit her whack in the middle of her forehead. The surprise as much as the shock quite stunned her for a second. She stumbled, uttered a cry as she fell to one side, landing on the hard cement floor of the tunnel, her arms grasping something—something solid and bulky. A leg! With stocking and shoe with dangling laces! Someone moaned.
“S’matter?”
Joan could tell from Chub’s voice that he was still ahead of her. In a voice weak with pain and fright, she called, “Ch-Chub-bb! Have I got ahold of your leg?”
“No.” His steps sounded on the stone as they came to her.
“T-then whose is it?” Was it part of the hospital equipment, an artificial leg abandoned here in this ghostly place? Or—was it a human leg, left from some horrible accident? Joan shivered and her whole body became icy cold. Just then, her worst doubts were eased, for the moan came again and the leg in her arms stirred of its own accord. She loosened her hold and let it drop, whereupon the owner gave another groan.
Chub was feeling with his hands where the body should be. “Yep, brass buttons all right. It’s a Boyville School kid, and not big enough for Charley. It’s Alex.” His hand had now reached Alex’ head on the floor. He lifted it up. “Are you hurt much, old scout?”
Another moan was the only answer.
“It’s Chub and Joan—from the Journal,” went on Chub. “Can’t you speak?”
Joan felt Alex’ hot breath upon her face as he struggled to answer. “That—that blamed Charley—he got away—”