The remnants of half-buried buildings reach up from the earth like the fingers of a giant that’s been buried alive. Part of what looks like it might once have been a bridge lies collapsed in a tangle of pylons, whatever water it was meant to traverse long dried up.
I turn to Cassius. “Who built this place? And how was it destroyed?”
But he only shakes his head.
For the next couple of hours we trudge along in silence, the only sounds our feet crunching against the rubble, our heavy breathing, and the ever-intensifying bleeps of the nav-glove. We eventually come to a pile of debris that’s just impossible to skirt.
“The beacon signal is close,” Cassius grunts.
A soulless eye stares at us from the wreckage, large and unblinking—what’s left of a stone statue of a wild beast, surrounded by toppled pillars with vertical grooves cut into their surfaces. The creature’s remaining eye is separated from its crumbling mate by a prominent ridge that flares into a pronounced snout, set into a grand jaw.
I wipe the dampness from my brow, unable to look away as I trace its flanks. “Not sure how we’re gonna get past this…”
When I kick the nearest column, my foot throbs upon impact. The stone didn’t even budge an inch.
Digory grabs hold of my arm, gentle and firm all at once, and pulls me over to a small crater that was partly obscured by debris.
“You found something?” A hint of excitement creeps into Cassius’s weary voice.
But Digory ignores him. His shoulder muscles tense as he shoves a clump of stone aside and shines a flashlight inside.
I smile at him. “You just may have found a way through.”
He squeezes my hand.
“We’re going in.”
It takes a while, but between Digory and me we manage to roll one of the pillars into the opening and set it at an angle, at the rim of the crevice, so we can all slide down it. Digory straps Talon onto his broad back and ambles down with ease.
“You know,” Cassius mutters, “this would be a hell of a lot easier for me if my hands weren’t bound.”
I shrug. “Too bad I don’t give a damn.” I shove him through the opening and he shimmies down, cursing me all the way, before Digory plucks him off and tosses him to the ground.
Then I’m sliding down after them, hopping off near the base and into Digory’s waiting arms.
“Thanks,” I whisper into his ear. We hold each other tight for a moment, then let go.
The tunnel we’re standing in branches off into several different dark channels and multiple platforms. A conduit of rusted pipes twists through the ceiling, and on either side of the trench are raised platforms lined with steel columns. Underneath us, thick metal slats line the ground.
“Looks like some kind of track system.” The sound of Cassius’s voice echoes eerily throughout the tunnels, then fades into the dark. “The builders of this place must have used it for transport under the city.”
“The beacon’s close,” I say. “This way.”
We make our way through the tunnel under the dimness of the flickering light, following the tracks, skirting heaps of stone, climbing over piles of rusted and mangled metal. It’s slow going, and having to maneuver Talon’s stretcher isn’t helping.
The pathway ahead of us is moving. For a second I think we must be on some sort of conveyor belt. Until the sound of claws scratching the steel tracks, mixed with high-pitched squealing, makes my skin crawl.
Rats. A horde of them.
Digory’s fingers slip between mine, gripping my hand tightly.
I swallow hard, eyes glued to the sea of vermin. “Reminds me of our first date in the sewers.” Eventually, the filthy layer of vermin thins out, scurrying into the cracks in the walls until they disappear.
GONG!
The familiar sound petrifies every hair on my body.
“The Fleshers,” I whisper. “The must have followed us from Infiernos.”
“Looks like we’re not the only ones using these tunnels,” Cassius says.
We sprint down the tunnel to our left, leaping over rusted pipes and concrete debris, stumbling in the gloom as fast as we can to get away from that horror. I almost stumble. “The signal’s coming from just up ahead!” I yell. “You’d better be right about a ship waiting for you there, Cassius!”
Digory pulls me along faster. We barely avoid crashing into a long, cylindrical vehicle resting on the tracks like a dead behemoth. It’s covered in slimy strings of goo.
I tug Digory’s arm. “The signal’s coming from inside.”
He resists, shaking his head.
I whip around to face Cassius. “I should never have listened to you. Tell me where you’ve brought us or I swear I’ll kill you right now.”
The platforms on either side are crumbled heaps that’ll take precious time to surmount. I stare through the dark gap that might once have been this transport’s cockpit, while the Fleshers’ unearthly wail echoes behind us.
“Inside!” I scramble into the opening, pulling Digory along with me, Cassius dragging Talon right on our heels.
My feet crunch against bone and I freeze.
The interior of the vehicle is a fetid pit jammed with more bones. Only these have been picked clean. Most are intact skeletons wedged into seats, while others lie in heaps along the aisle, or hang from bars jutting from the ceiling.
At the back of the car, the flight crew from a Vulture hang chained together, arms above their heads, half naked, their uniforms in tatters, their skin pale as chalk. I dart forward and check their pulses. They’re all dead. Some of their heads are twisted, jaws pried apart in hushed screams.
A powerful rumble rocks the tunnel, the deep bass of a siren that vibrates through the tunnels like the cry of some prehistoric beast. We slip out of the car, staring into the shadows.
The siren is followed by a series of clanks and grinds from some poorly oiled machine, mixed with sickening wet squishes and the clatter of snapping teeth. This is made all the more horrible now that I’ve seen the monstrosity behind them firsthand.
For a moment the three of us stand frozen, posed like pale statues long forgotten among these grisly ruins, an eternal look of fear plastered on our faces.
Before we can backtrack, that siren blasts louder than ever. Something bursts through the opening of the tunnel ahead, surrounding us in an instant.
A big blur of creepy.
At least twenty Fleshers, looking much like the one that attacked Digory and me at Infiernos, close in on us from all sides. There are some differences among them—variations in facial structures and the skeletal armor encasing their torsos, and in some of the tools on their protruding appendages. Some are even taller than the one I encountered. But it’s obvious that they’re the same race of thing.
Once in place, the Fleshers’ servomotors lock in place and they freeze, fixing us in their sights. As monstrous statues, they’re more unnerving silent than when they were clanking and wheezing. Their strobing lights capture their ghastliness like nightmare snippets.
“What are you?” My voice echoes down the winding tunnels.
The nearest Flesher’s head swivels in my direction.
Digory steps forward, and I can see the thick cords of muscle on his arms and neck tensing as he readies to pounce. That savage look burns like blue fire in his eyes again. His lips curl into a snarl, which births a low growl. A quick reminder of the brutal ordeal that’s transformed him.
I grab hold of his granite shoulder. “Wait,” I whisper. “There’s too many of them.”
At the sound of my voice, he relaxes. But he still moves his body in front of mine like a shield.