When a Hitman Gets Haunted by a Ghost
Chapter 75: Worst Crawl Space Ever

Chapter 75: Worst Crawl Space Ever

Gabriel drove his car to the cult, the headlights trembling as they made it through the bumpy road to the riverside.

Thinking himself smart and resourceful, he parked where Kant’s escape car had been the last time, and even hid the key on top of the rear wheel. Just in case.

Steeling himself, he followed Hale. Surely, the evil spirit wouldn’t put his life in danger... Probably. Hopefully.

Thanks to the snow, the forest was bright. The night sky, a muddled gray-brown, cast just enough of light to see without a flashlight.

When they had crossed about half of the forest, Hale stopped by thick, snow-weighted undergrowth, urging him to go in.

"Go in where? There? Into the bushes? Why? Did you see any guards?"

Hale shook his head. "Worry not. No one goes here."

Gabriel was lost. "Then why are you trying to shove me into a bush? Is this your revenge for how long it took me to come here?"

Despite his complaints, Gabriel took a step forward, then another, pushing past a wall of tangled branches.

The undergrowth was a thick mass of thorny shrubs, skeletal and weighed down by snow. Branches snagged at his coat like grasping fingers, a high one scratching against his cheek.

"Ow! This sucks. Why am I going through here again?"

Gabriel could barely see Hale ahead, just a pale figure slipping through the thicket with ease. He gritted his teeth, shoving his way through the last steps to get it over with.

"Careful! Don’t rush!" Hale cautioned.

The warning had been just in time, because the ground sloped downward beneath Gabriel’s boots. His foot caught on something solid. Stone?

He steadied himself and pulled out the small flashlight he’d brought along. Snowflakes swirled in the glare.

They were in a tiny clearing, nearly swallowed by the wild. There, half-buried in the frost-bitten earth, was a slab of concrete, angled and jagged, its edges crumbled like a cookie.

A bunker. And he’d nearly fallen straight into it.

"Woah." His own voice echoed back to him. "How deep is that?"

"It’s a path leading to the basements below Lazarus Blessing. I would say it’s about two to three meters underground."

Gabriel tilted his head, staring into the abyss below. "Basements?"

The entrance gaped before him, its frame rimmed with ice and withered vines that clung stubbornly to the concrete. Snow had formed an obedient line at the threshold, as if even winter didn’t dare to cross.

Gabriel swallowed hard, tightening his grip on the flashlight. His pulse thundered in his ears. "You want me to go in there? Are you sure it’s safe?"

Hale turned, the light from below casting eerie shadows over his face. "Fear not," he coaxed, voice like silk over steel. "I will guide your every step."

"Yeah, thanks. That doesn’t sound creepy at all," Gabriel murmured, glancing back at the thick bushes. Well, he had come this far, might as well do something adventurous.

With one last breath of icy air, he stepped inside.

The tunnel led lower and lower, growing tighter and tighter, until they reached a door that could only be meant for gnomes.

Gabriel grimaced, already regretting it. But Hale just flicked his wrist and the door popped open like the lid of an unsightly time capsule.

"Get down."

Gabriel tried not to cry as he stared into the depths of the cursed version of play tunnel. "You want me to crawl in there?" His voice wavered. "Hale, that’s..."

It was barely high enough for a child to squeeze through, let alone a grown man. The air that leaked from within was stale, thick with something he didn’t want to name. Not to mention the concrete edges were rough, and the ground was lined with damp rot.

"...disgusting."

The evil spirit only stared at him, waiting surprisingly patiently—if ogling in silence counted as patience. He must have finally grasped that forcing Gabriel to do anything was counterproductive.

Pressured by his debt to Hale, Gabriel exhaled sharply. "If I get stuck, I swear to God—"

"Nonsense. You are slim enough." Hale’s lips curled, amused. "It’s completely safe."

"Not sure about the ’completely’ part, but alright."

Gabriel fumbled with the flashlight, trying to figure out where to put it. Failing to come up with a better option, he bit down on it and dropped to his knees.

His fingers tingled with disgust as his gloves pressed into the damp, slippery ground. Thanking himself for choosing leather gloves before coming here, he crawled inside.

The further he went, the more the tunnel seemed to close in with its slimy walls brushing past his shoulders. Why was everything so wet?

"Ew, ew—this is so—ugh," Gabriel mumbled around the flashlight, biting down harder. If he dropped it on this nasty ground, there was no way he was putting it back in his mouth.

Behind him, Hale followed effortlessly, legs walking as if on solid ground while his torso phased through the ceiling. Perks of being an evil spirit. Even his white robe stayed pristine while Gabriel was starting to resemble a pig in the mud.

Still, a part of him was amazed. When he was a ghost, he’d squeezed through the cult’s walls to explore the rooms and spaces, but he had never thought of squeezing through the ground to see if there was anything under.

Just ahead, the passage finally came to an end.

Another door. Made of old, half-rotten wood.

Gabriel pushed at it, but it wouldn’t open. "Hey, a little help here?"

Hale crouched, frowning at the muffled question. "What? Hell? Child, if you dare curse at me—"

"No, the door," Gabriel tried to say, but it came out more like "No, de dooh."

Hale squinted at him, then nodded and gestured impatiently. "Move back a little."

"Back?" Gabriel scrambled backwards as much as the tunnel allowed.

"Now get down lower."

Gabriel spat the flashlight into his hand, getting annoyed. "Lower how? Do you want me to lie down?"

"Yes," Hale replied, perfectly serious. "Lie down and cover your head. It’s for your own safety."

After an exasperated sigh and a muttered protest, Gabriel got down. He wished he’d at least thought of bringing a spare set of clothing. Or that Hale would have warned him before they came here.