*
IT WAS THE LONGEST FEW MINUTES of my life, but I made it back to the tunnels. Wriggling through the drain pipe, I’d almost convinced myself that something was behind me and sharp claws would close around my ankles, dragging me back. Mercifully, that didn’t happen, and I leaned against the wall, gasping in short, frantic breaths until my heart stopped racing around my rib cage.
In the tunnel, I couldn’t see my hand before my face, and no amount of waiting would help my eyes adjust to the pitch blackness. Digging in my pocket, I brought out the lighter, clicking a tiny flame to life. It barely illuminated the ground at my feet, but it was better than nothing.
With the flickering light held up before me, I started down the tunnels.
Strange how a few short hours could change your view of the world. The once familiar tunnels were menacing now, the darkness a living thing, pressing in on all sides, suffocating me. My footsteps seemed too loud in the quiet, and several times I held my breath, listening for phantom noises I was certain I’d heard over my quiet panting.
The tunnels went on, and despite all my fears and imaginings, nothing leaped out at me. I was nearly home, just another turn and a few hundred yards to the ladder that led topside, when a splash echoed in the darkness.
It wasn’t loud, and in the daylight hours, with sunlight slanting in through the grates, I might’ve blamed a rat or something similar. But in the looming silence and blackness, my heart nearly stopped, and my blood turned to ice. I doused my flame and ducked into a corner, holding my breath, straining my ears to listen. I didn’t have to wait long.
In the darkness of the tunnel ahead, a single flashlight beam flickered over the ground, and low, guttural voices echoed off the walls.
“…what’ve we got here?” a voice wheezed, as I pressed myself into the wall. “A rat? A big rat, come creeping out of the darkness. You sure picked the wrong night to go wandering the undercity, friend.”
Holding my breath, I risked a quick peek around the corner. Four men blocked the exit of the tunnel, thin and ragged, in filthy clothes and unkempt hair. They stood slightly hunched over, their shoulders bent and crooked, as if they spent all their lives in small cramped spaces and weren’t used to standing up straight. They clutched jagged, rusty blades in their hands and grinned maniacally at a lone figure in the center of the tunnel, their eyes gleaming with anticipation and something darker.
I ducked behind the corner again, heart pounding. You’ve got to be kidding, I mused, sinking farther into the concealing shadows, hoping they didn’t hear me. This just isn’t my night. Deer, rabids, and now freaking mole men in the tunnels. No one is going to believe this. I shook my head and huddled lower, clutching the handle of my knife. Now all I need is a vampire to come sauntering through and it’ll be perfect.
The mole men chuckled, and I heard them ease forward, probably surrounding the poor bastard who’d walked into their ambush. Run, you idiot, I thought, wondering what he thought he was doing, why I didn’t hear footsteps pounding frantically away. Don’t you know what they’ll do to you? If you don’t want to be on a stick over the fire, you’d better run.
“I want no trouble,” said a low voice, calm and collected. And even though I couldn’t see him, didn’t dare peek around the corner again, it sent shivers up my spine. “Let me pass, and I’ll be on my way. You don’t want to do this.”
“Oh,” one mole man purred, and I imagined him sidling forward, grinning, “I think we d—”
His voice abruptly changed to a startled gurgle, followed by a wet splat, and the faint, coppery stench of blood filled the air. Enraged cries rang out, the sound of a scuffle, blades cutting through flesh, agonized screams. I crouched in my shadowy corner and held my breath, until the final shriek died away, until the last body fell and silence crept into the tunnels once more.
I counted thirty seconds of quiet. Sixty seconds. A minute and a half. Two. The tunnel remained silent. No footsteps, no shifting movements, no breathing. It was as still as the dead.
Warily, I peered around the corner and bit my lip.
The four mole men lay in heaps, weapons scattered about, the flashlight shining weakly against a wall. Its beam pointed to a vivid splash of red, trickling down the cement to a motionless body. I scanned the tunnel again, looking for a fifth heap, but there were only the mole men, lying dead in the pale flashlight beam. The dark stranger had disappeared.