Charlie stood at the bottom of the highway, staring at it, terrified it might collapse at any moment. Charlie had made a run to the grocery store before he had left. He wasn't that stupid to leave unprepared. He mainly had been in the camping section, getting a very nice back-pack, a rope, shoe-laces, a water bottle, medicine, a bag of cheesy popcorn, an Exact-O-Knife (made for cutting cardboard, not stabbing), and most importantly a flashlight.
Charlie made sure the helmet to his suit was screwed on tightly before he gingerly tapped his foot onto the highway. It didn't make a sound or a move, so he pressed his weight down. Still nothing, so he slowly stepped onto it fully, and when he was sure it seemed safe, he began to slowly walk up the road.
About 45 minutes passed by until he reached his problem. There was a section of the highway that had broken off, leaving about a five foot gap between this part of the highway and the next. Charlie bit his lip. "I think I can jump," he reassured himself, backing up. He took off with a running start and leaped across, slamming into the next part of the highway, causing the elevated road to shake just a bit. "Holy crap," he whispered, terrified. But, the bridge-like highway quickly stilled, sending him carefully on his way.
An hour or so later, Charlie saw a sign saying the exit was just up ahead, the second one he had seen that day. He quickly crossed over into the exiting lane and walked down the ramp that curved down onto a road. The road stretched out past his line of sight, along it a few fast food places, restaurants, and gas stations, but mainly houses. It seemed like a ghost town- no one was there. Charlie stopped and crossed his arms. It wasn't like he had expected a big sign reading "CATACOMBS HERE, CHARLIE!", but a the old Loonie could have been more specific. Grumpily, he began making his way down the street, for he had come too far to turn back, plus the fact he was terrified of the highway.
Charlie wasn't very far down the road when he noticed a house that looked like it had just recently been broken into, for the lights were on in one of the rooms. Charlie got a horrible feeling that this was his "CATACOMBS HERE, CHARLIE!" sign. He bit his lip, conflicted. He could go in, listen to the man who was possibly insane, or run back to the grocery store. He hated to even think it was possible, but what if the guy was sane and he really was trying to save Charlie?
"Darn it, Charlie," he cursed himself as he headed onto the porch of the house. Very quietly, he grabbed the handle of the door, which he found was unlocked, and turned it, giving the door a gentle nudge that made a squeaking sound. He bit his lip. If anyone was in the house, Charlie was pretty much dead. But, no one attacked him, so he curiously looked around. It looked like whoever had robbed the house wasn't after supplies, because when he searched the kitchen pantries were full of food. But, Charlie was, so he stuffed a bag of cookies, some almonds, and some honey into his bag. He pulled out a fork and a butterknife from the drawer for self defense, but he still rather had the Exact-O-Knife for a weapon than those, so he put them back. Then, a bright idea hit him as he quietly tiptoed upstairs into the master bedroom. He searched the room, desperately, but his searched turned up empty. There were no guns in the house and he was almost sure of it. Why would there be? The family living here would have taken it, if not the looters.
Before Charlie went downstairs, he nabbed some deodorant, shampoo, and body wash from the bathroom. He couldn't remember the last time he was able to take a shower, so if he found some way to relieve himself of stench, he would willingly.
Hurrying back downstairs, his search for some sort of catacombs a failure, he was about to leave. He was walking down the hallway to the door, when he tripped on a loose floor board. On further observation, the board was downright out of place, overlapping another. He wedged his fingers under the loose board and pulled, a small hole in the floor revealed to him. It was pitch black, so Charlie pulled out his new flashlight and shone it down into the dark, revealing it was about a six foot drop. He gulped. The catacombs were real. He had been praying they weren't, but here they were. Charlie remembered the tales of catacombs in the ancient city Paris, skulls hung everywhere like they were decorations. They were practically homes for the dead. And if any child believes in monsters in their closets and under their beds, this would have been their worst nightmare.
"You're an idiot," he told himself, about two seconds before he leaped down into the hole, crashing into the darkness.