Speaker 1: My entire life is revolved around the infrastructure that lay
beneath our feet. My father and our generations before him
all bore the same responsibility maintaining the city's arteries. I
know the labyrinthine storm drain system that sits below us
better than my own home. It had rained heavily over
the last week, so when my phone buzzed in the morning,
I already knew what it was about. The council called
me in a panic about flooding in the industrial area,
admittedly less maintained than the residential systems, and begged me
to check it out. Their frantic tone was lost on
me because I was expecting this to happen another day
at the job. I grabbed my gear, which was well
maintained but worn out from years of use, and I
slipped a pack of Lucky Strikes into my pocket I'd
never been able to kick, and headed on my way.
Stepping out of my truck, I tied to my gloves,
secured my boots, and started trudging down the old path
toward the northeastern entrance. The opening to the drain was
a gaping hole in the earth, the city's very more
that seemed prepared to swallow just about anything whole. The
first glaring thing I noticed was the high water levels
in the tunnel, soaking my boots as I waded in.
I expected water, but I didn't expect a small fire
pit still smoldering slightly near the entrance. The thought of
homeless people in the drains crossed my mind, and it
wasn't a comforting thought. I'd seen this before. The vagabonds
that took refuge and drains in this area were notoriously nasty.
I grabbed my pack of Lucky Strikes and lit a
cigarette to calm myself off for a potential confrontation. As
I entered, I noticed just how deep the water went.
I grabbed my flood gage to measure the water level.
I had to know the exact number before making any
further assessments. Eleven inches above road level, five inches more
than what it should be. I grabbed my notebook and
jotted down the numbers. I compared it to my previous
measurements of this area, which was abnormal. I constantly kept
meticulous notes, so I checked further back to see if
there had been any incidents like this before. But this
was the first time it had reached these levels. No
minor issue would cause the water level to almost double
like this, so I knew I had to make my
way in and diagnose the situation immediately. Due to the flooding,
I had to ensure the air was breathable with potential
damage the systems. Leaks from the sewage could cause a
plethora of gases to build up, so I pulled out
my handheld gas detector and ventured a little further into
the tunnels, flashlight in hand. Further in the air was thick,
the scent of decay and mildew lingered. I scanned the
walls for any signs of a potential cause of the
over the top flooding, but I saw nothing apart from
some graffiti and moss along the walls. I grabbed my
multitol from my left side and tapped it on the
wall for a few brief moments. Sometimes water would leak
out between the tunnels, causing a slight shifting and misalignment
of the entire system, which alone caused the myriad of issues.
The walls sounded more hollow than they should, and I
briefly stepped out to grab my laser distance device. I
had to check for slight shifts in the path. The
results yielded what I had already done, a moderate shift
and a slight sag. But knowing the exact numbers could
help me find the root of the issues, so I
added another entry into my almost full note book. The
deeper I ventured, the more the sound of rain and
the city bustling faded. Now the most prominent sounds were
the slight rumblings from the industrial machines above. This was
just more proof of the state of the tunnel I
was in. I didn't remember them being this pronounced when
I was last here, and I figured the tunnel shift
course pockets for the walls to vibrate more. I used
chalk to mark the route I had taken. It was
already lined with previous marks made by me, and despite
feeling confident about knowing my way around, marking my way
was a habit my grandfather had drilled into me. I
found a nice fork in my path and figured I
was finally deep enough to check the gas levels. The
little handheld device beat to life. I had to be
aware of anything that could harm me if I went deeper.
Methane showed one fifty ppmv, fairly normal for being this
deep into a drain. Hydrogen sulfide registered at four PPMV,
which wouldn't affect me too much as long as I
didn't stick around too long. But the odd thing was
the high levels of carbon monoxide. This meant I had
to be careful with how much I exerted myself. I
wasn't quite sure why the levels were so high, but
I was at least confident I could explore more to
find out. I arrived at the red maintenance room door
and went to check the pressure gauges. The gauge readings
were all over the place, which either alluded to a
massive blockage or worse, a crack in the infrastructure. The
strangest readings were towards the north northwest, so now I
knew where I had to head. The path towards the
north northwest line proved my suspicions correct. The water level
fluctuated and the floe seemed to slow down, a telltale
sign of a blockage. The rumbling was getting louder. Now
I knew I was getting close to the source of
the problem. This was made more apparent by the shaking
of the cement around me. The infrastructure was weaker here
As I rounded the corner, I finally encountered the issue.
A sizeable amount of rubble was in the way, creating
a makeshift dam and a hole in the wall. I
noted more information before approaching the scene. The wall seemed
to have been blown out by force. Pressure built up
from somewhere on the other side of the wall and
blew inwards. There was no other way for the rubble
to end up inside the tunnel in the manner that
it did. I approached the hole in the wall itself
and shine my flashlight through. It was bigger than if
the concrete had just crumbled. It was damn near half
my size. I expected to see a pocket of dirt,
possibly a gap from the tunnel shift in which caused
pressure to blow inwards. What I didn't expect was an
entirely different tunnel system. This hidden tunnel seemed to be
entirely walled with compressed dirt rather than concrete, which showed
that it wasn't just another symmetrical tunnel or an older
abandoned one. I took my notebook out and read through
the things I had already written down, wondering if I
might have information on this by all means I could
have just made my way out planned with my team
and the city council and worked through this more prepared.
But those damn assholes would make me far countless reports
on this before I even stepped foot back in. It
would take weeks just to get the repair schedule, and
this would come after countless days of surveying from the
gases to the numbers and the pressure gages and the
shift in the tunnel's layout. It wasn't ridiculous to say
that everything could get worse fast without proper intervention or
at least finding the underlying issues as soon as possible.
And even if the repairs got underway promptly, undoubtedly our
city's cheap bureaucracy would do no more than seal up
the hole, only to have it break again or worse
in the future. Ultimately, I decided I would go inside
the hole, if only briefly. My idea was to poke
around to get enough evidence, which should hopefully convince the
higher ups that the repairs of the tunnel shouldn't just
be superficial. This way, they couldn't just declare the hole
to be patched up and pretend and nothing else was wrong.
I braced myself, then crawled inside. The first thing that
hit me was the smell. The air was thicker, with
a faint earthly scent and something metallic. I ran my
hand along the walls of the dirt tunnel. I glanced
over my shoulder, and the dim light from the hole
barely penetrated the darkness around me. So I clicked my
flashlight on and looked around. There were jagged marks left
by whatever tools had been used that gouged out. This
wasn't the work of modern machinery. These tunnels had an
older feeling, like they had been dug out by pickaxes
or something more archaic. Then the rumbling came again in here, however,
surrounded by dirt, the sound was more muffled, but the
impact of the shaking was much more present. The earth
around me sh shock, causing little bits and pieces to
fall off the ceiling, but the tunnel held. Whatever machinery
was being used in the industrial area above must have
been heavy duty for it to be felt, and the
soft dirt of the tunnel. Getting a good sense of
my surroundings, I moved deeper into the tunnel. With each step,
the tunnel sloped gently downward. The floor was uneven and
littered with loose dirt and small stones. I started mentally
mapping the path I was taking. So far, it was
following perpendicular to the storm drain, but I wasn't sure
how long there would be the case for, and I
sure as hell wasn't about to get myself lost. I
periodically paused to mark the walls using my multi tool.
It took more effort than expected. The earth had been
packed so hard that immense pressure must have been used
while digging this tunnel out. At least that meant the
tunnel had some structural integrity, seeing as there weren't any
support beams left after its construction. As I ventured further,
I noticed the tunnel's dimensions were strangely irregular. They sometimes
narrowed and other times they widened. I grabbed my distance measurer,
and the numbers confirmed my suspicions. This was not a
professionally dug out or well planned tunnel. This raised more
questions on top of the many that were already piling on. Next,
I flicked the gas detector on The numbers showed higher
levels of methane and significantly lower levels of carbon monoxide.
I grabbed my notebook once more and started writing the
numbers down. But then in the middle of my writing,
the rumbles started again. This time it was different. It
was no longer just a muffled reverberation. I could feel
it more in my feet, and now it was rhythmic. Thump, thump, thump.
It was louder now, and it echoed a pulsing thrum
that vibrated through the dirt. The ground beneath my boots
felt unstable, as if the very earth could shift at
any moment. And it wasn't just getting louder, no, it
was getting closer behind me. I didn't want to waste
time turning around. Instinct took over, screaming at me to
get away. I dropped my notebook and made a run
for it. The tunnel, already constricting at the scenes, seemed
to grow even smaller as I tore through the darkness.
The beam of my flashlight flung around wildly as the
thudding behind me grew louder. The thing behind me was
matching my pace. The tunnel wasn't just vibrating now, it
was shaking, as if whatever was behind me threatened to
collapse it entirely. I slid and skid in a loose dirt,
almost losing my foot in I thought to keep my
breath consistent in the dense tunnel air. My heart beat
loudly in my ears, drowning out everything but the thing's
relentless approach. I reached the fork in the tunnel and
did not hesitate for a moment. With no time to lose,
I instantly veered left the narrow passage, forcing me to
dug slightly. The rumbling behind me grew distant for the
slightest of moment, as if it had miscalculated the turn.
It gave me an inkling of hope, but I knew
I wasn't out of it yet. I needed an exit,
and I kneaded it fast. I had put some distance
between me and whatever was behind me, but I was
also further away from the only exit I knew of.
The tunnel twisted and turned. Now no longer straight and coordinated,
it was now serpentine in nature. Its pace kept up
with me on long straits the earth ground as whatever
it was worked its way down corridors. However, it slowed
down on turns. Knowing this, I darted to the side
every chance I got, and eventually the distance widened so
much that I could barely hear it. The only downside
was that I was almost entirely lost. Sure, I prided
myself and tracking my turns perfectly in the storm drained
tunnels it was borderline mandatory for the job. But in
the rush, I did not have the luxury to take
detailed mental notes in my directions. My only saving grace
was that I had a general idea of the cardinal
direction i'd moved, so my only option was the head
back in one general direction and hope no turns deviated
me too much. I calmly backtracked. Without the urgency of escape,
I had time to think on the situation. Whatever it
chased me must have been a machine I'd never seen before.
Without the sporadic nature of the tunnels it left behind,
it was too asymmetrical and erratic to be a new
storm train system. The nature of these tunnels was just
as confusing as when I'd found them. Despite this, I
couldn't be mad at the person operating the machine, regardless
of my opinions and the mess they were making here.
It was my fault that I'd stumbled into a live
construction site. However, I could be mad that they had
carelessly damaged the storm train system that neighbored their project.
My priority was the make contact with whoever was working
these new tunnels to stop current operations for me to
get out safely. I followed imprints of my running footprints
back as well as I could, and made educated guesses.
For times that I lost my tracks, I would always
seem to circle back to my tracks, which made me
thankful for the sense of direction drilled into me by
my grandfather. As I made progress, I heard a low rumble.
It sounded like an idle engine, though it was rhythmic,
not a static hum. It was a slight deviation from
my path, but to ensure my safety, I detoured towards it,
hoping to make contact, to tell them to cease operations
while I made my way out, and to secretly get
the name of the company that was going to be
my new nemesis. As soon as I got out, I
reached the fork, the hum reverberating from the right, so
I called out loudly in case the engine drowned out
my cries. I heard nothing back, so for my safety,
I slowed my pace to a crawl, calling out incessantly
to no avail. The worker must have been ignorant to
a passing vagrant in the tunnels, which part of me
couldn't blame him for, as the situation was very bizarre
but frustrated me to no end. As I peeked my
head around the corner, I slowly brought my arm around
to try flash my light into the cabin of the machine.
If they couldn't hear me, there was no way they
could miss my light. Fur. Instead of a luminescent paint
job and hardened steel, I saw disheveled fur legs poking
out with long, concaved claws, perfect for digging, perfect for tunneling.
It shuffled more, its breathing hums rumbling more erratically as
it knew I was near to my amazing lock. I
saw no head. I was behind it, and whatever this
creature was, it had no way to turn around or reverse.
Its frustration was projected from its increased breathing and grunting.
My shark held me as I looked it over, and
despite how much I racked my brain over the many
animals I knew of, nothing in the world came close
to whatever this was. It was huge, leaving almost no
space around it. The tunnel was a perfect fit around it,
tailor made for it to move through, and seeing the
size of the tunnel, I was astonished that a creature
so big could exist. While I was looking over its
strange tail, it suddenly darted off. Despite its size, it
moved fast, its claws digging deep with a recognizable thump
each time, and pulling it forward at a surprising pace.
It veared left and shuffled away. This wasn't the reprise
I was hoping for, as I heard it turn, then
turn again, and soon I heard it getting louder. But
from my left it was circling around, and I did
not want to hang around long enough to see its
front end. Its behavior told me that seeing it up
close would be a death sentence, so adrenaline took over
as I turned and ran. I tried to line back
up to where I had been back tracking before, but
in the rush, I did not have the luxury of
studying the ground for footprints like before. It gained on
me in the straits, and I created distance on the turns,
but each turn twisted my sense of direction until I
was utterly turned round. Just rushing through the dark to
find safety, but I found something else instead. I had
created a good distance between the creature, but not enough
for it to lose its chase, and in front of
me was a wall of dirt, a dead end. The
scraping told me it had tunneled up to this point
and stopped, and the concrete behind some gashes told me
it had reached the storm trained tunnels and couldn't get through.
All that went through my mind was as if I
could make it to the last turn I made to
continue this game of cat and mouse. I turned to
run back and try, but I stumbled and slipped on
loose dirt, barely catch myself before I fell. The beam
of my flashlight flickered on and off, casting shadows on
the wall. I paused for a moment to steady my hand.
That small bit of wasted time was all it took.
I was too I heard it approaching the turn ahead,
and with its pace, there was no way for me
to return to the crossroads on time. The strait was
too far for me to beat it to the turn,
and even if I did, I would be on another
strait with it just meet us behind me, too close
to beat it until the next turn. It was over.
I could die in vain, or I could go out
on my own terms, and a wash of serenity came
over me surprisingly quickly as I just accepted the situation.
I slumped down on a mound of loose dirt, got comfortable,
and pulled out the lucky stripes I slashed in my
front pocket. Smoking in a tunnel was forbidden for obvious reasons,
but my final act was the stick it to the
rules and do something I'd always wanted to do. I
lit the flame of the lighter, briefly illuminating the tunnel
in which I now sat. The first drag was harsh,
the smoke caught in my throat and scratched relentlessly, but
the buzz was the best mental reprieve from the incoming doom,
A final moment of bliss before the end. The rumbling approached,
nearing the final corner before the long straight to my
dead end. The air thickened with the smoke as I
rushed another hit, trying to see if I could at
least finish it before it reached me. It seemed I
was allowed to extra time as it slowed. Either it
was saving the moment, or it knew I was in
a dead end. Either way, I was fortunate in an
unfortunate way, so I continued to savor my final act.
To prepare myself, I just focused on the cigarette, staring
at the red embers that lit up as I drew
it in, trying to push the thoughts of a violent
death to the back of my mind, never gone but
far enough away to try find some last second piece.
As the red reached the tip of the butt, I
felt a nauseating sense of finality. I had associated the
end of the cigarette with the end of my life,
but as I slowly came to back in the moment,
I was holding the smoldering remains of the cigarette in
silence smoke blogged the beam of the light from my flashlight,
one of the many reasons when not allowed to smoke
while on the job. The stale air was replaced by
the strong smell of nicotine, and my vision barely passed
a few feet. This was typically in still a sense
of claustrophobia, but all I could think about was the
creature unmoving just out of vision. Having somewhat accepted my piece,
I took a few paces forward away from the dead
end to see if it was still there and as
I approached, shuffling mirrored my movement. It groaned as it
shuffled away in the same direction I was heading. I
walked more, emerging from the cloud I had created, and
there it was. My light didn't penetrate far enough to
see it in its entirety, but it illuminated enough to
see two pin prick eyes, like a cat caught in
head lights in the dead of night. Growls rumbled as
it dared, approaching slowly. In the high of the moment,
I pieced together what was happening. I pulled out another cigarette,
lit it up, and blew the smoke around. I lost
sight of it, but I could hear it defiantly moving back.
I edged forward step by step, creating a cloud around me,
and I heard it bump into the wall of the
turn and scram to the side. As soon as it
reared the bend, it shuffled forward and sped away. Everything
that had transpired left me confused. So many questions swelled
around my mind, but I had to focus on the
one absolute truth about the situation. I was given a
chance to escape, and I had to take it. I
moved through the tunnels, lit cigarette in hand, I tried
not to smoke it too much, as each puff left
me blinded for a short period, and I had a
finite amount of cigarettes. But any time I heard the
thumping nearby, I'd let out a few exhales of smoke
and it would edge away, always near, but never approaching.
With the downtime, I was able to find the remnants
of some of my stumped footprints, and I used the
indent of my sprinting heeling prints to slowly track back
to where I was. Eventually I saw something that stood
out of the dirt, just sticking out by a corner,
and a bit torn My notebook, which seemed to have
been scratched up, but otherwise intact. I was ecstatic. I
hadn't dropped it too far from the exit, which was
important to me, so I snatched it up, getting my
bearings on the last distance to the exit. But then
another sensation hit me. The space between my fingers burned
ever so slightly as the cigarette came to its end. Then,
as if on cue, thump, thump, thump, the rumbling thumping reappeared,
this time hurried angry either it was frustrated and being
teased by its food, always moving away or it knew
I was nearing the exit. The walls around me shook
and debris landed all around me. I ran like hell.
Everything reached the crescendo. The creature shook the earth as
it pummeled through the tunnel toward me, and I could
tell it was gaining ground fast, but I was just
fast enough. I cut my back up, diving through the hole,
just making it through as something sharp swiped at where
I was. The pain was dulled by the rush of
adrenaline that fueled my last dash for freedom. I could
hear the concrete get scraped away and the wall reverberated
with a harsh sound of it trying to get through.
I was soaked on the floor, landing on the flooding
and rubble on the other side. I grabbed some debris
and threw it at the hole, desperate to either hit
it or block it up as best I could, but
I knew it was a job too much for one man.
Once the smell of dampness wore off, I smelled something
I knew smoke. At first, I thought it was my clothing,
probably stained from the smell of cigarettes I had just
gone through, but it was strong and smelled distinct mora
than it coincided with my walk out. Following the route
I took and hearing the rain from outside, I made
my way to the exit and my eyes watered, not
from relief, but from the smoke being blasted towards me.
I had to cover my face with my sleeve as
I went down the final straight, and when I could
finally see again, I saw what was causing all the smoke.
The barrel at the front, which I thought was just
the fire for the homeless, was lit with a fresh flame,
a mix of dry wood for fuel and wet leaves
for smoke. It wafted through the storm. I drained tunnels
with fervor from the strong winds. Once outside, I felt
a new sense of urgency, a feeling to relish my freedom,
but also to take action. I ran back to my
truck and dialed the city council. I made arrangements for repairs,
making no mention of the tunnels I had found. I explained,
I found a hole with that the gases from the
earth were leaking through that way, the people who go
in won't need to enter the other side, and would
wear enough protection to obscure their vision. The less curiosity
the better. Over the coming weeks, in preparation, I kept
the fire lit like clockwork. I've never crossed paths with
whoever has been lighting it before or when I was
in there, but they exist. Some days I go to
light it only to see some one has beaten me
to it. Whoever it was seemed to know about the
creature before me, and seemed to appreciate my joining their efforts,
once leaving a thank you note on the barrel for me.
When the time came for repairs, I waited for the
boys to go inside the tunnels, watching them glance at
the fire as they went past. They tried to kick
up a fuss about it obviously being a hazard for
them to work in the tunnels, but A managed to
spit enough jargon about the necessity of it. They knew
about construction, but I knew enough buzzwords about storm drain infrastructure,
the bold face lie about the need for the fire.
They never knew that it was my only hope of
keeping whatever was inside far away from them. The entire
time they made those repairs, I stood outside diligently keeping
the fire ablaze, and once they walked out, I lied
that I would set it out once they left. I've
been in the tunnel since the incident. I checked and
saw I was still solid, but while doing my inspections,
I sometimes still hear it. I no longer think it's
the machines from the industrial area above I recognize as
movement patterns all too well. Now we're safe from it
breaking through the solid concrete for now, but I still
go by every so often and keep the fire lit
just in case it ever gets through again.