“Follow me,” Bixby whispered and began his decline inside the earth, leading us astray.
Hatch Daily pulled away from me, and we did as the old tour guide instructed, allowing the ground to have us. Slowly and carefully we lumbered into the belly of the earth. Bixby first. Hatch second. And I brought up the rear.
Bixby’s flashlight offered very little light. Thank the gods of Hades that Hatch and I had the use of our cellphones, which illuminated the tight decline rather cordially, comfortingly. To my right and left were walls of cement blocks that constructed the foundation of the crypt. Two more declining steps turned into an underworld of Pennsylvania rock, mostly sandstone, and a narrow passageway that was approximately three feet wide and four feet high. Both Hatch and I hunched over
