Madness and How Charles Hamilton Got There
CHAPTER ONE
Tuesday 2:53 AM
The thought of death occurred to me as I sat in wait for the tube. The Underground was dark and deserted with the exception of the few homeless trying to sleep with newspapers as blankets and posts for pillows. There was a young couple on the end of the way trying to "familiarize" themselves with one another. Then there was me.
Cold, dark, and slightly lonely. It was late and I had just gotten off from work. I felt an overwhelming sense of dread and ache as the lights flickered above me. Oh, how I long to get back to my flat in East London. No. Of course I can't go, yet. The tube isn't here, you idiot.
3:04 AM
Sigh. An old man with a very long white beard and an equally crooked nose, sits down next to me. He smiles, and I catch a twinkle in his eye. He turns to me and says, "Tawny weather we 'aven." His cockney accent is very apparent. "'Ink tar might be 'o storm?" The old man queried.
I shake my head. "It'll rain, but I do not think that there will be a tempest. Too humid." I adjusted my messenger bag to pull out a cheese sandwich. I offer the old man half, but he refused. Can't say I didn't try to be polite.
3:09 AM
Five minutes. Five minutes we have sat in silence. Awkwardness ensues.
The old man takes in a long, deep breath and says, "'Ese tunnels 'ave been 'ere fer quite sometime." I nod. "Thar a lot o' stories in 'ese 'ere tunnels."
I turn and ask, "Stories? What do you mean?" I was taught a little in school about industry and why the Underground was built, but I fell asleep rather often when it came to History. This was the first time I had heard about there being "stories" about the Underground.
The old man took a long pause and nodded, "'Orror stories. 'Ink back in the mid- ate- teen 'undreds. All this was just dirt and creepy crawlies. Somtin new ta build. Working men sweating and even more putrid smelling. 'Ey'd work fer hours on end." He leaned in close to me and I leaned forward to hear him, "Sometimes 'ey would find dead rats 'at were the size o' a full grown man's leg. And 'ey would bring 'em 'ome and use 'em as pillows fer the family." I flinched at the compulsion to vomit. "Nasty 'ings 'appened back then."
The lights above flickered intensely bright. I rubbed at my eyes, for I could have sworn that just at that moment I saw a man in work ware covered in dirt and an eye that seemed desperate and aged. He had an enormous rat in one of his hands. The second time I looked over he was gone in a flicker.
The old man took a sigh and said, "Charles Hamilton 'ad the worst o' 'em all, I'za 'ink." Charles Hamilton? That was my great-great grand-dad's name! I gave a start, but the old man just went on not perceiving me as even there. "'E waz a good worker. Never missed a day o' work. 'E 'ad a nice enough family. Wife and son. 'Ey lived as contently as one could back then. But 'ese tunnels……" The old man stopped.
My eyes flickered back and forth as I said fitfully, "'These tunnels'? What? What do these tunnels do? Go on?!?" The old man's lips parted into a smile. All I knew about my great-great grand-dad was that he left my great-great gran and her son broke. No one had ever really told me about our family's past. If this was the same man, I would get to learn more about my own history.
A draft blew at the wisps of the long whiskers on the old man's chin as his cracked lips parted, "'Ese tunnels. 'Ey made good ol' Charlie go mad."
CHAPTER TWO
3:20 AM
My eyes widened, the walls creaked, and the air stood still.
Okay, I'm being a little overdramatic, but honestly, I was starting to freak out! This rather eerie senior citizen was talking to me about men (who could very well be my ancestor) in the nineteenth century , building the Underground. All the while in the dark, cold, and deserted Underground. I got the shivers. Can I hardly be blamed?
The old man leaned his elbows against his knees and spoke downward, as if he were telling the story to an invisible child."It waz winter. One o' the coldest London's seen, yet. Cold enough ta drive any man mad. 'Course that wazn't what mad 'im mad." The old man gave a chuckle, of which I was disgruntled by. The old man continued, "Back then everybody waz looking' fer work. And it wazn't too 'ard ta find. The Empire waz doin' well fer itz self and Industrialism waz boomin' all over this 'ere world." Slap! On that note, without missing a beat, he startled me by slapping his knee.
I chuckled to ease my tension, "It was a good time for everyone, eh?" Again, 'History' wasn't my best suit. I quite literally know almost nothing about that time.
The old man just sat and smiled at me as he said, "Good ol' Charlie waz offered a fair position az one o' the diggerz. Much like miners though, 'ey 'ave ta be capful ta not 'ave the tunnels cave in on 'em and what-not." I nodded understandingly. "Now, Charlie worked 'ard. Az 'ard az any one man could. But, sometimes it just wazn't enough. 'Is son 'ad been growin' inta a full man, and 'e would get inta argyaments, ya see? Charlie would tell 'im that 'e needs ta go ta school ta study and make som-tin o' him self. And the son wanted ta work ta 'elp the family." The old man took a breath and said with a heavy heart, "Then 'e waz 'avenue troubles with 'is wife. All she wanted waz more time with 'im. But with 'is work schedule it wazn't possible."
3:30 AM
Screech!!!!!! The tube came to a grinding halt in front of us.
"I believe this iz our ride." He gestured towards the tracks as he stood up roughly.
Still sitting, I tugged on his coat and looked up at him like a wide eyed child, and asked, "Will you continue telling me the story, though?"
He just smiled at me and took me by the hand, and pulled me up. Th put his arm around my shoulder as we walked to the open door. Being pressed so closely to him I could feel that he wasn't as frail as I thought he had been. Unlike most elderly people I know, he felt as though he were fit to run a marathon. He was strong and protective. Safe.
We sat down by one another, now more comfortable than before. As he spoke, I listened attentively. "Charlie, 'e didn't just 'ave troubles at 'ome. 'Ere were some other workers that would 'arass 'im. And on a particularly bad day one o' the crudest workers made a snide remark about 'is wife." The old man took a pause. "Charlie, 'e took 'is shovel in hand and hit the bloke over the 'ead. Now, Charlie wazn't known fer 'is temper, but 'e waz az ragin' az Queen Eliza on hot coals. 'E 'ad a temper alright. It wazn't until the man waz dead that the other workers were able ta pry 'im off."
The old man took a long pause, and I waited patiently for him to start again. His eyes looked far off, almost as if he were else where. "After the diggers realized what 'e 'ad done, 'ey were filled with the sense o' vengeance. 'Ey took 'im out with 'is own shovel, and dragged 'im inta the depths o' the tunnels. There waz a deep, dank 'ole in the side o' the tunnel. It was just big enough for 'im ta fit. So, 'ey left 'im lying there. 'Ead bleeding, unconscious, and buried alive."
CHAPTER THREE
4:01 AM
The rest of the way home we sat in silence. When we got off the tube I followed him up out of the Underground. I kept ask if he wanted help, even though he carried nothing. He refused. He had returned to the image of a frail old man. No longer was he someone who was fit to fight a bear.
When we reached my flat, for the old man had really been following me, I thanked him for keeping me company and telling me the story.
When he spoke this time there was no smile or twinkle in his eye, he only said plainly, "Ya know it izn't just a story, don't ya?"
I took a step back in discomfort, but then I settled and nodded my head. The old man patted my shoulder in approval. Then he turned to walk away.
It took me a moment to realize he was leaving, so I called out to him, "Wait!" I caught up to him and grabbed at his sleeve, "What's your name?" I asked, breathless.
This time he smiled a sad smile and replied, "James." And then he was gone.
James. Another familiar name. Actually, it was a family name. It was my dad's name, and my dad's dad's name, and my great grand-dad's name. Even my name, Jamie.
I went home to sleep.
Wednesday 2:38 AM
Back here again. Like clockwork. Waiting for the tube. They must have fixed the light, cause it wasn't flickering anymore. Even less people down here than before. Unbelievable. I wonder if James will be here again?
2:41 AM
The light starts to flicker again. I tousle my hair in frustration and look to the side. Again, I see the man covered in dirt with a rat in his hand. This time I don't blink. I get up and go towards him. He moves down into the tunnels of the Underground. I can't help but go down there and follow.
I jump down onto the tracks, and I follow his silhouette for a ways. I must have tried calling out to him a dozen times, but he gives no notice.
I lose sight of him. Am I lost? I make a turn and come upon an area that has been "closed off" for renovations. I enter thinking maybe the man is in here. I hear dirt fall from the walls. It feels as though someone or something is behind me, watching me. I make a sharp turn around. There is nothing there but a dirt wall.
Unknowingly I start to dig at the wall, unconscious of what I am doing. The rubble falls away. Dirt and bugs are crawling up under my fingernails as I claw my way through. I stop. The dirt collapse on its own. A mass of decomposed skeleton falls to the ground.
I cover my mouth in disgust and and make for a start. I turn around quickly. The man is right there hovering behind me. He frightens me immensely. I back away towards the dirt wall. He is coming to me, dead rat in hand. I am against the wall, and he is so close that I can feel all the heat from my body fade away. Then everything goes black.
2:52 AM
DEAD.