Into The Tunnels
1141 Words
POV: Phoenix Kade
Night falls, and with it comes the cold. And death.
We approach the ruins in the darkness, our torches cutting weak circles of light through the black. A giant rat scurries past us, its beady red eyes reflecting the flames before it disappears into the shadows. The area around us is filled with ditches of stagnant water, deep green and thick with rot. Corpses of unknown animals float in the foul liquid, bloated and decomposing.
Some kind of algae grows in patches across the ground, giving off a dim, sickly fluorescent glow that makes the darkness feel even more oppressive. The light isn't enough to see by. It only makes the shadows deeper, more menacing.
The rat stops at the entrance to an enormous tunnel. Maybe it was a transportation hub from the First World, or an entrance to some ancient building. Or maybe it's something from one of the invading worlds the old man used to talk about. By now, it doesn't matter. All that matters is that something's down there, something dangerous.
The rat hesitates, then darts into the tunnel. A few seconds later, a chilling screech echoes from the depths. The sound grows fainter, like something's dragging the rat deeper and deeper. Then the screaming stops, replaced by ripping, gnashing, chewing sounds.
My stomach turns.
"You sure this is it?" Mad Dog asks, staring at the tunnel entrance.
Slyfox lights a cigarette, the match flaring briefly in the darkness. "The layout here is extremely complicated. Supposedly, those bastards are pretty sly. It'll be dangerous if we try to force our way in, and we'll also set off the alarms. It'll be hard for us to wipe'm all out."
Mad Dog frowns. "Then what should we do?"
"Why do you think I brought so many pawns?" Slyfox looks at him like he's an i***t, then tosses his half-smoked cigarette to the ground. "Rookies, send in the bait!"
The mercenaries walk over to us. "Y'all deaf? Slyfox told you to move it!"
We're all shaking from cold and fear. The tunnel yawns before us like the mouth of hell itself. Even the stupidest among us can see what we are now. Bait. Nothing more. They're sending us in to draw out whatever's down there.
But do we have a choice? Only if we can outrun a bullet. Otherwise, Slyfox's pistol will cut us down before we take three steps.
We shuffle into the tunnel, torches held high with trembling hands. The darkness swallows us whole.
"Be careful in there, rookies," Slyfox calls after us, lighting another cigarette. "Take things slow. Let the pawns stay up ahead of you."
The tunnel is cold and damp, reeking of rot and decay. Ancient tools lie scattered across the ground, covered in algae. Mosquitoes buzz in thick clouds, and I can hear things moving in the darkness. Things that aren't human.
Terror fills me, but so does something else. A strange sensation, like something's calling to me from deep within these tunnels. I've never felt anything like it before. It's subtle, peculiar, impossible to describe.
What secrets are hidden here? And what do these excavators really want?
We walk for twenty or thirty minutes, winding deeper and deeper. The tunnel branches off in multiple directions, and soon I've lost all sense of where we are. The ground is littered with more than just ancient relics. There are tattered bits of cloth, animal carcasses, congealed pools of blood.
Then I hear it. A shrill, scraping sound, like nails dragging across metal. It comes from somewhere ahead, or maybe behind, or maybe all around us. I can't tell. The sound rises and falls, loud then soft, echoing through the tunnels.
The darkness brings out the most primal fears. The fear of the unknown multiplies everything a hundredfold.
We stop moving, frozen with terror. Sweat drips down my face despite the cold. I don't know if we should go forward or turn back. Rustling sounds fill the darkness around us, and my nerves are stretched so tight I feel like they're about to snap.
"AHHH!!" One of the scavengers screams, a sound of pure horror.
I turn and see something that will haunt me for the rest of my life. We're surrounded by bugs. Thousands of them. Beetles, centipedes, things I don't have names for. They're on the walls, on the ground, crawling up our bodies. The entire tunnel is filled with them.
I frantically brush at my clothes, my legs, my stomach, my back. I didn't feel them before, but now I can see them everywhere. Some have already burrowed into my flesh. I grab my torch and press the flames against my own body. Burns are better than letting these things eat me from the inside out.
Bugs everywhere. A living wave of them, clustered so thick they look like a single writhing mass.
The scavengers at the outside of our group notice them too late. By the time they tear their clothes open, their bodies are already unrecognizable masses of blood and flesh, with bulging lumps moving beneath their skin.
"NO!"
"AHHH!"
Several scavengers collapse, and the bugs swarm over them immediately. They burrow through every opening, and when they can't find one, they make their own with their teeth.
"RUN!"
The word ignites our terror like a spark in gunpowder. We all scream and scatter in different directions, our fear burning away whatever rationality we had left.
Some of us escape the bug-infested area. Before we can even catch our breath, the ones at the front stumble into a trap. A bucket tips over above them, pouring green acid across their faces and bodies. The acid eats through them instantly, dissolving flesh and hair, leaving b****y blisters and exposed bone.
"AHHHHHHHH!"
A scavenger runs toward me, clawing at his own face. His fingers scrape away chunks of melted flesh, revealing the skull beneath. The flesh on his hands has withered to nothing but bone, but he doesn't notice. He just screams and screams.
These are traps. Carefully prepared traps set by intelligent beings.
A spear shoots out of the darkness and pins the screaming man to the wall. A steel hook catches another scavenger, ripping half the flesh from his stomach. He runs for several meters before he realizes his intestines are dragging behind him. Then he falls.
This is s*******r. This is butchery.
"Don't be afraid. It's all a trap. If we just..."
A long knife comes chopping through the darkness. It's not particularly sharp, but the wielder is terrifyingly strong. The blade cuts through the scavenger from right shoulder to left hip, splitting him in half. Blood sprays everywhere. His organs flop onto the ground, still pulsing.
He doesn't die right away. He just screams, a sound so inhuman it feels like it's hammering directly into my soul.
- Writer
