Don't Look Down

Let's go," Peter Billionaire says. "I don't like standing here. Come on."

With that, the five-man squad starts to run. They all go by code names so their employers don't know that they regularly break the law. Youth Sonic, the point man, goes first. He's decked out in a blue Gore-Tex jacket and green cargo pants. Though he had long hair just a few weeks ago, it's now cropped high and tight. Everyone falls into formation, single file, behind him. PA Wolf — the veteran of the crew — is built like a track star and wears a backpack trimmed with reflective material. He has led expeditions like this from Colorado to Toronto to Minneapolis since 2002. Behind him is Gothstone, a short guy in a Dickies jumpsuit. Taking up the rear are Billionaire and KC Explorer, both in street clothes.

They're running away from their black Jetta, which they left in a parking lot near Bannister Mall. Each second means more time for some passer-by to question why a bunch of guys would be clad in survival gear in the middle of suburbia. As they trot down the winding, single-lane road, the whiz and roar from the intersection behind them disappears. Large trees and overgrown foliage line the roadside. Soon, the only sound is the hammering cadence of their bootsteps. These are the things they carry: three powerful headlamps, two flashlights, a GPS system, a few cell phones, a hydration pack and a camera. In case something breaks, Sonic shoulders a backpack stuffed with replacement gear.

Sonic spots a break in the overgrowth lining the road and motions toward it. They duck under the branches and slide past a chain-link fence that's been cut open and rolled back.

This follows a main tenet in urban exploring: They didn't cut the fence themselves; they can use it because it's already been severed. All five of them have sworn to uphold the sport's Boy Scout-like rules: Don't damage anything to enter buildings, don't take souvenirs, and leave no sign that you've been there.

Their code names are screen names from the Web site kcurbex.org, an urban-explorer networking site moderated by Sonic. The forum helps squads assemble to explore vacant buildings and unguarded construction sites. The site then details expeditions with photos and journals. They invited a Pitch reporter along, but the crew is adamant that the addresses of their explorations remain a secret and that they be identified only by their online monikers. "We try to keep a separation between who we are and what we do," Sonic says.

Beyond the open fence, the men hunker down and dash through a small clearing toward a rock wall. They spot a metal-framed doorway built into the face of a limestone cliff. The door leans ajar. Wordlessly, they slip inside. They click on their miner-style flashlights and survey the cave. Empty beer cans and a tipped-over shopping cart are visible on the dirt floor. Limestone walls rise on all sides like glacier faces. It's musty and barely lighted, like the inside of a tomb. They are in stealth mode. Being too loud can wake vagabonds, attract the attention of cops and security guards or, worse, cause cracked cave ceilings and walls to collapse.

Before the outing, Sonic researched the catacombs and discovered that they used to house an underground office park built in the 1980s. He says it once was home to various construction and craft companies. It was abandoned after a design flaw caused the cave to flood. Most access points were later dynamited to discourage looters and squatters.

To reach another room, the team squeezes through a hole in the limestone. They push back chicken wire that covers it and ignore the animal dung smeared on the opening. Inside the new room, the only light comes from the beams shot from their headlamps. Stagnant water has collected in what was once a traffic lane near a loading dock. It resembles a gaping Venetian thoroughfare. Past the water, the headlamps shine on a doorway. A few months ago, some team members crossed the river in an aluminum boat that someone had left down here. Now it's gone.

"Shit," someone mutters. The inflatable raft is back in the car.

Now they'll have to improvise. Sonic spots a pile of boards and cardboard boxes set up like a suspension bridge, the far end of which is underwater.

"Looks like someone tried to make a bridge," he says. He grabs a metal rod and plunges it into the water to measure the depth of the swill. It's groin height.

Explorer, the brashest of the crew, volunteers to go first. Without bothering to roll up the cuffs of his jeans, he steps straight onto the boards. They groan and creak. Halfway across, Explorer disappears into the darkness. That's when the rest of the team hears a splash.

"Whoo! Wow! That's what I call a spring morning shower! Oh, wow, that's cold!"