So the underground network had been crime ridden almost from the beginning. As the system was used less and less, maintenance was discontinued. Finally, decades after they were built, the underground areas had turned into a veritable no-man’s land where criminals, Night Creeps, and other low-lifes roamed unchecked.
“And,” Nikki told us as we ignored the warning signs and turned down the short street leading to one of the few unsealed Catacombs entrances, “rumor has it that the catacombs have even been expanded to accommodate those living in them.”
“Rumor? Doesn’t anyone know,” Jake asked.
“Those who found out whether the rumors were true or not never lived long enough to tell about it,” Nikki answered.
“Don’t ever tell me any bed-time stories,” I said.
“Don’t worry.”
Shot down in flames.
Nikki turned on the van’s headlights as we left the sunlit street and started down the dark ramp that led to the Catacombs. It suddenly felt colder in the van and a chill climbed my spine.
“Jake, have your needle rifle ready. Looks like we could be needing it on the way in.”
“Already have it out.”
I picked up the Colt assault rifle I’d picked up from the Pukers and draped it across my lap, being careful to keep the muzzle pointed in a safe direction. If Nikki had been trying to scare us, she’d succeeded.
The headlights of our van showed various junked vehicles which were covered with dust.
Most of the glass had been broken from them leaving jagged teeth in all their openings. Empty cans and trash littered the area as far as the headlights poked light into the darkness before us. We passed through a screen of dense, black smoke which seeped into the van; someone was burning rubber tires. Fortunately we soon escaped from the thick swirling screen and broke into relatively clear—if dusty—air.
As we journeyed down the cave-like corridor of gray concrete, more and more rusted-out vehicles littered either side of the narrow ramp. Nikki made a turn and we passed a large area where great chunks of concrete had been blasted from the walls and lay along the road. Another turn led us out of the rubble and down an undamaged section.
Now we occasionally saw vehicles with their windows intact; the glass was painted or stained so that whatever was inside them was obscured.
“There’re lights inside some of those cars,” Nikki said.
“You suppose people live in those?” Jake asked, peeking through the curtain.
“Maybe.” I wondered what kind of person would give up the light of day to live in the trash and darkness.
“We turn left here,” Nikki said. We slowed and started down another passageway that looked identical to the others. Nikki had memorized the route as it had been given to her. I was totally lost already.
We went nearly a mile without turning and then made several more quick turns and journeyed downward on a narrow, dirty ramp. Human shapes often danced in the shadows on either side of us as we passed. Other, non-human forms jumped away from the beam of our headlights while large rodents darted across our path from time to time with their red eyes gleaming.
Farther from the entrance of the Catacombs, cars and other obstacles became rarer. Nikki speeded up.
We made another turn and again the headlights revealed a mosaic of trash and junk along our path. Papers and old newsfax blew in the van’s wake as we hurtled past. Piles of rags that looked terrifyingly like bodies appeared alongside the road; these piles of rags were interspersed with the glistening white bones of large animals—or men—that had been picked clean by the rats that scurried out of sight as we passed, occasionally with bones crunching under our wheels.
After seeing no cars for some time, we rounded a curve to see, in the gloom ahead of us, a group of crouching, stripped vehicles. As we hurtled toward them, an old truck slowly rolled from its parking berth beside the bodies of the cars around it. The truck picked up speed as we neared it.
“Hang on, Jake, looks like someone’s trying to block our path,” I said.
I clicked the safety off my rifle, opened the vent window, and jammed the barrel out it.
“Hang onto your ears,” I said and let loose a three-round burst of bullets at the truck. My ears ached at the sound. The truck continued to roll as we came upon it.
I fired another burst as Nikki floored the accelerator on the van and, with a screech of tires, we skidded around it. A group of men or women—it was impossible to tell which with the dirt and the rags they wore—sprang in front of us. They threw rocks at the van.
“Don’t slow down,” I told Nikki.
All but one got out of the way. The van made a sickening lurch as it crushed our would-be assailant.
“Oh, no,” Nikki cried.
“You can’t help that,” Jake said. “They’re trying to kill us. Don’t worry about hurting them.”
A crash and the sound of metal being strained came from behind us. Something large had hit the back of the van. Jake’s curses echoed through the van.
“Everything OK back there?” I asked.
“Yeah. We’re going to have some more body work to do when we get back though.”
“Just so our hides remain intact,” I said pulling my rifle back into the van and closing the vent window. I thumbed the rifle’s selector back to its “safe” position.
We flew through the darkness. The area was again free of vehicles and Nikki was taking advantage of the fact to speed ahead.
“This area looks… clear. There isn’t so much junk,” Nikki said.
“Not only that,” I said. “Look at the walls. Plastic. We’ve left the original Catacombs area.
This must have been added to the underground network fairly recently.”
“Who would want to add to this mess?’
“Or build here?”
A bright light shown ahead of us, its beam cutting a tunnel in the dust that hung in the air and glistened off the blue plastic walls.
“We turn here—I think,” Nikki said as we approached a fork in the plastic tubing. I hoped she wasn’t lost. Spending days to find our way back out didn’t exactly sound like a fun-filled outing.
As we rounded the smooth plastic corner, the walls expanded into a huge chamber bathed in a purple light. A bag lady—identical to the other two who’d attacked us—stood inside a sandbag bunker directly in front of us. She trained an ancient M60 machine gun onto us.
I swore under my breath, “Careful. That thing could riddle our van full of holes.” I hoped the bag lady was in a better mood than those of her sisters we’d encountered in the recent past. They all looked exactly alike. I realized that the bag ladies actually wore a uniform of sorts with identical patches and bullet-proof face masks. Identical down to the tilt of the battered cloth hat.
Nikki slowed almost to a stop.
I held my breath.
The bag lady looked into the van then motioned us on when she saw that Nikki—in bag lady’s clothing—was driving.
We drove across the chamber and entered another long plastic tube. A string of cerulean lights dotted the walls and pointed the way to us. Ten minutes later, the tube expanded and the lights became brighter and brighter as we drove on. After perhaps a mile we entered a large cavern, so huge that it was impossible to see the far side of it. The field ahead of us was encircled by yellow flood lights.
“Can you believe this?” Nikki said as she slowed the van to a stop.
I couldn’t.
A two-story, white Colonial-style house stood in front of us. Large trees and shrubs had been carefully planted around it and a well-manicured lawn covered the floor of the chamber. A small bird flew by the van and a deer bounded across the lawn as we watched.
“Well, I’ll be a…"Jake said as he closed the curtains so he’d remain unseen in the back of the van.