"Rick, if you want sex in this century…"
"Okay, okay. Sorry. I'll get rid of them." Rick pulled a water pistol from his jacket and stepped toward the rats, who remained in place, refusing to budge from the pipe. "Here's the deal, guys. It's either my wife or you." He frowned. "For God's sake…"
"What's the matter?"
"One of them has two tails. Another's got three ears. Some kind of genetic defect from inbreeding. Get the hell out of here." Rick squeezed the pistol's trigger, spraying liquid over them.
Balenger heard several shrieks that tightened his spine as the misshapen rats stampeded into another hole beside a pipe. "What's in the water pistol?"
"Vinegar. If we get caught, it seems a lot more innocent than mace or pepper spray."
Now Balenger smelled it. His nostrils felt pinched.
"I don't suppose anybody took a photograph," Conklin said.
"Shit." Vinnie gestured in exasperation. "I was just standing here, not doing anything. Sorry. It won't happen again."
Vinnie's camera, a compact digital Canon, was in a case attached to his belt. He pulled it out and turned it on, pressing the flash button to capture the image of a one-eyed rat poking its head from a hole next to a pipe.
Spiderwebs filled the space above the wide pipe. Rick's gloved hands brushed them away.
"I don't see any brown recluses." Balenger knew that Rick referred to a hermit species of spider whose bite could be fatal. The young man squirmed over the obstacle, his legs briefly straddling it, hence the description of these kinds of pipes as "ball busters." His shoes crunched down on the other side, where he rose, knees bent, and aimed his helmet's light along the new tunnel. "Everything's fine… except for the skeleton."
"What?" Balenger asked.
"Of an animal. Can't tell what kind. But it's bigger than a rat."
Vinnie climbed over the pipe and crouched next to him. "That belonged to a cat."
"How do you know?"
"The low forehead and the slightly forward shape of the jaw. Plus, the teeth aren't big enough to be a dog's."
One by one, the rest of the group squirmed over the pipe, their clothes scraping on rust. Conklin came last. Balenger noticed that the elderly man breathed with effort, his weight making it difficult for him to get over.
"How come you know so much about animal skeletons?" Cora asked Vinnie.
"Just cat skeletons. When I was a kid, I happened to dig up one in my backyard."
"You must have been a charming kid, digging up your parents' yard."
"Looking for gold."
"Find any?"
"An old piece of glass."
Balenger kept staring at the skeleton. "How do you suppose the cat got in here?"
"How did the rats get in here? Animals find a way," the professor said.
"I wonder what killed it."
"Couldn't have been starvation, not with all the rats around here," Vinnie said.
"Maybe the rats killed it," Rick said.
"Funnier and funnier," Cora told him.
"Well, this isn't funny. Here's another skeleton." Vinnie pointed. "And another. And another."
Their headlamps flickered over the numerous bones.
"What the hell happened here?" Balenger asked.
The tunnel became silent, except for the sound of their breathing.
"The hurricane," Cora said.
"What do you mean?"
"The professor said the hurricane flooded the tunnels. These four cats tried to get away by following this tunnel upward. See how it rises? But the water caught them anyhow. When it finally receded, their bodies were blocked by that pipe. Instead of floating away, they sank to the bottom here."
"You think these bones date all the way back to 1944?" Balenger asked.
"Why not? There's no earth to help them decompose."
"Cora, if you were still in my class, I'd give you an A." The professor put a hand on her shoulder.
Balenger noticed that the hand stayed longer than necessary.
9
The new tunnel took them past more pipes and spiderwebs. Shadows bobbed in the lights. A couple of times, Balenger banged against the ceiling and was grateful for the hard hat. He splashed through another puddle. Despite the water, dust irritated his nostrils. His cheeks felt grimy. Everything smelled stale. The cramped area seemed to compress the air, making it feel thick.
Vinnie, Cora, and Rick kept checking their meters.
"Isn't there an easier way to get in?" An echo distorted Balenger's voice.
"The windows are sealed from the inside with metal shutters, remember?" Conklin said.
"But the doors…"
"The same thing. Metal. We could try to pry something open, I suppose. We have a crowbar and Rick's strong arms. But there'd be noise, and if a security guard came around, the damage might be obvious."
The tunnel ended, a new one opening on the right.
Rick checked his air meter. "The methane's still borderline. Anybody feel sick?"
Vinnie answered for them. "No."
As they turned the corner, Balenger stiffened, confronted by gleaming eyes. Heat shot through his nervous system. The eyes were a foot above the tunnel's floor. A huge albino cat.
Vinnie's camera flashed. Hissing insanely, arching its back, the cat whipped its right paw at the lights, then charged away, disappearing into the darkness. Balenger frowned, noticing that the animal's hind legs had something wrong with them. Their rhythm was grotesque.
Vinnie's camera flashed again. "Hey, kitty, you're going in the wrong direction. Dinner's the other way. I've got some rats I want you to meet."
"Damned big animal." Cora got over the shock. "Maybe he stuffed himself on rats. Seemed to me he could see our lights. He must have a way in and out. Otherwise, his optic nerves would have stopped working."
"His hind legs," Balenger said.
"Yeah." Vinnie showed the group the back screen on his camera: the photograph he'd taken. "Three back legs, two growing out of one hip. Dear God."
"Do you see this sort of thing often?" Balenger asked.
"Mutations? Occasionally, in tunnels that haven't been used in a long time," the professor explained. "More often, we see open sores, mange, and obvious parasite infestation."
"'Parasite'?"
"Fleas. When you got your tetanus booster, did you tell your physician you'd be traveling to a third-world country and wanted to take antibiotics with you, just in case?"
"Yes, but I didn't understand why."
"A precaution against plague."
"Plague?"
"It sounds like a medieval disease, but it still exists. In the U.S., southwest areas such as New Mexico see it in prairie dogs, rabbits, and sometimes cats. Very occasionally, a human being contracts it."
"From infected fleas?"
"As long as you follow the recommended precautions, you needn't worry. None of us has ever gotten sick from plague."
"What did you get sick from?"
"Once I was in a tunnel that had standing water as this one does. Mosquitos. I got West Nile fever. I recognized the symptoms and went to a doctor early enough. Not to worry. Now that it's autumn, the mosquitoes are dead. And we've arrived. This is it."
10
Balenger braced himself, focusing his light on a rusted metal door.
Rick pressed down on a lever that formed the door's handle. Nothing happened.
He tried again, straining, but got the same result. "Locked. Maybe rusted in place."
"Professor?" Vinnie asked.
"This is always the moment I dislike," the elderly man said. "Until now, we've merely been trespassing. When we look for ways to infiltrate a building, I love it when we find a board that's fallen from a hole in a walclass="underline" a place to squeeze through. Nothing's been altered. Nothing's been destroyed. But now we're about to do something more serious. Breaking and entering. Assuming we can in fact enter. I'd very much like to see what's inside, but I can't encourage any of you to break the law. It has to be your choice."