39
Going Underground
It was like I’d been shrunk to the size of a bug and got lost in someone’s poo tubes.
Aside from the skin-crawling sounds of rats scuttling unseen across my path, there were the myriad smells of gas, diesel, urine and s**t to contend with. Not to mention pitch-black darkness, uneven flooring and slimy surprises every time I reached out and touched a wall. Some parts of the tunnel were narrow. Others, head-bumpingly low. One section, a wide-open cave with a loud, gushing waterfall and a square of light breaking from a grid high above.
After an hour or so of stumbling round, I felt the tunnel rise below my feet. There was a low, vibrating sound coming through the walls. And not like the periodic rumble from U-Bahn trams. It was a throbbing, beating sound. Like a nigh
