Julie Matthes lead them to a narrow alley on the far side of Sterling, the oldest portion of the city. The jewels and marvels of the modern world had yet to reach this area; or if they had, they’d been rejected by the residents who favoured the traditional over the new. The buildings were squat, mostly reclaimed timber from the port, with small windows and narrow streets lit by gas lamps, if they were lit at all. She stopped them halfway down the alley, in front of an oak door deadbolted shut.
“Is there a reason we’re about as far away from the Foundry as it’s possible to be?” asked Bill.
They formed a suspicious huddle and Jeremiah glanced around, nervous of any onlookers. It didn’t matter that it was late: even if you couldn’t see anyone, the City itself was always watching. In addition to him and his friends, there was Julie Matthes, Junior, Eddie, and two other props members: a tall, sallow faced man with limbs that looked like someone had been putting off eating their leftovers for the past six years; and a brunette woman with a round face and large, owlish eyes. The man had introduced himself as Gizmo, but everyone seemed to call him Giz. The woman was Fara.
“The Foundry has been expanded several times over the past few decades, as the city’s hunger for technology grows,” said Julie Matthes, resting a hand against the worn brick. “Part of this expansion led them into the ruins of Ewark.”
Gliridae perked up, pushing forward to inspect the door.
“The city before the city. It’s part of the reason there’s a height limit on most buildings- the ground is as porous as cheese. They say the tunnels run right through the ground beneath Boravica.”
“They also say the tunnels form a level of Lowtown most people wouldn’t want to see,” rumbled Bill, but the smaller man just rolled his eyes.
“Old wives tales- they don’t want people getting lost down there. Apparently it’s a maze- I assume you have a map?” He swivelled to peer up at Julie Matthes.
“A map would be necessary, yes…” she smirked. “Unless you find the plan for the old high street, which ran a straight line from north to south.”
Jeremiah turned his gaze to the horizon.
“South would be the Foundry. Due north from there would be…” he grinned. “Right between our feet.”
“That’s smart,” said Gliridae, “but how do we get in? This padlock is the size of my head, and I don’t suppose yeh’ve got a key.”
“No,” said Bill, pulling the tiny man back, “but you do have a rhino.” Drawing his mechanical arm back, he punched through the door with one clean blow. It flew off its hinges and skidded several meters down the corridor behind it, the sound cracking through the air like a whip. For a long moment, there was nothing but the echoes of the impact and the settling of the dust. Then Bill bent down and stepped inside, looking exceptionally pleased with himself.
Even Julie Matthes seemed impressed.
One by one, they made their way into the tunnel. At first, only Gliridae could walk straight, but soon it grew so that even Bill could stand to full height, and then beyond, so their lamplight didn’t reach the ceiling. After a few hundred meters it widened too, into maybe a room or some kind of cavern, and the brick gave way to smooth grey stone which glistened wetly in the candlelight.
Though they had a half dozen candles, there were only two lamp holders: Bill at the front and Giz in the rear. Jeremiah found himself in the middle with Julie Matthes and took the chance to study her.
She was probably the same age as he was- certainly not more than a few years older or younger- and about the same height, with two pink scars running lengthwise down one side of her neck. She’d shed the business casual she was wearing last time they met for loose, athletic clothing; combined with the look of concentration on her face-
“I would have thought you’d know how to stare discretely,” she murmured, not even bothering to look his way.
“I was thinking you could have been a Silver in another life,” he murmured back. Now she did look, eyes narrowing. “You and Miss Ward would have been a formidable pair.
“I could never have been a Silver; I have principles.”
“They’re all gangs, right? Which one you want to work with is just a matter of what you grew up with. In another life you could have been a Prop.”
She relaxed slightly, but the frown remained.
“My mother started the Mattheses twenty-some years back because for a lot of people there were no good options. The Props, the Silvers, the Vantases, they’re all the same. They’re all no good.”
“So, you’d describe your organisation as an ethical gang?” asked Jeremiah. She shrugged.
“I’d say we have a net positive effect on the city… even if officials like to block the public from seeing it. All that’s going to be in the newspapers tomorrow will be ‘Foundry vandalised by gang members;’ ‘Gang delays intercontinental rail project’; ‘This is why we need to be tough on crime’. But you know why we’re doing this- hell, you’re here to help.” She opened her mouth to continue, but paused. “Do you hear that?”
Every few seconds, from the darkness above, came a soft sound: like a hundred bored teenagers drumming their fingers against the desk at school; or maybe a hundred failed attempts to snap the fingers. It was a strange noise, and on either side of them the group was peering upwards trying to figure out where it was coming from.
“Nope, I don’t like that,” Jeremiah heard Gliridae mutter. “I don’t like that one bit.”
A rumble echoed ahead of them, and Bill started forward to investigate. Jeremiah followed, as did Julie Matthes, but the there was a yell from behind, and the back of the line was plunged into darkness. He raced back, Bill close behind, to find a shocked Gliridae, Eddie and Fara. Giz had vanished, the extinguished lantern laying in the middle of the path the only sign of him.
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
“Get it going again,” ordered Jeremiah. Fara pulled out a new candle, lit it from Bills and put it in; the glimmering light didn’t reach far, and Julie Matthes pulled out a lantern cover to focus the light into a narrow beam. Fara swivelled it around.
Beyond the path they’d been walking, squat ruins rose from the crumbled stone ground. Some were half collapsed, others teetered on the brink of it. In the doorway to one lay a body.
“Gizmo!” yelled Eddy, as Fara and Gliridae ran over. Gliridae pressed his head to the man’s chest, then gave Jeremiah a thumbs up, before frowning and inspecting the body closer. His hands came away scarlet.
The pattering started again, and they all looked to the ceiling nervously. Bill placed a beam focuser on his own lamp and swung it up and around, trying to spot whatever was stalking them. A few dozen meters ahead the path cracked, leaving a ravine maybe a dozen meters wide, but who knew how deep.
There was a sudden flurry of movement, and Jeremiah just caught an enormous shape bursting from the dark when Bill yelled and his lantern went out. Fara aimed her beam of light back at them and Bill staggered back to Jeremiah and Julie Matthes, who frantically scrabbled to light another candle.
“What in the hell is that?” panted Bill. There was a deep scratch starting on his neck and tearing into the top of his shirt, and even in the dim light Jeremiah could see spots of blood blooming from his chests and sides. From the corner of his eye Jeremiah caught a flicker, and then a rush of flames illuminated the tunnel they were walking in.
From its perch on the ceiling, the giant millipede screamed and scuttled, diving into the ravine.
“Holy hell,” breathed Bill, as Julie Matthes swore profusely. Jeremiah felt sick: he couldn’t say for sure, but for a brief moment he’d thought he’d seen a face, an actual, human face, on the creature’s underside.
Gliridae jogged over, carrying three flaming planks; behind him, the hut where Gizmo and Fara remained was ablaze, Fara dragging Eddy to just beyond reach of the flames. The tiny musician grinned.
“Centuries old dry timber, hey- sure does go up a treat.” He passed them the planks, looking very pleased with himself. “Gizmo’s not looking great but it’s also not life threatening. He’s got a few punctures in him, nothing our good medic can’t stitch up; and I figure that our leggy friend down there just really doesn’t like light, so if we can get past his domain with all this fire then we should be in the clear.”
“We need to kill that sucker,” said Bill, and Gliridae’s grin vanished. Julie Matthes nodded.
“I’m not continuing on worrying that that… thing could be following right behind us, waiting for the right moment to attack.”
Gliridae looked between the two of them, then turned to Jeremiah.
“Yeh… it’s not a thing, it’s a person. It’s a wilding. Yeh know that right? Yeh saw that- we’re talking about- about murdering someone.” Gliridae’s voice was hollow, shaking at the end.
“Whatever it used to be, it’s not human anymore,” Julie Matthes cut in before Jeremiah could respond. “And it attacked us first- it tried to kill Gizmo.”
“Because we’re trespassing! Because it’s scared, and it doesn’t like the light, and…” Gliridae trailed off, seeming to realise that he didn’t have a chance of swaying them. Jeremiah placed a hand gently on his shoulder, then passed him a small first aid kit.
“You go take care of Eddy; send Fara back over here, and then wait until we’re done. Okay?”
Gliridae nodded, pressed the first aid kit close to his chest, and headed back to the flaming hut.
“Go keep an eye on him,” Julie Matthes told Junior. He hesitated and she arched an eyebrow. “You heard me: someone needs to make sure the mouse isn’t caught.” He followed after and Julie caught Jeremiah’s questioning look. “The kid is seventeen, okay, excuse me not wanting him dead while he’s in my care.”
A moment later, Fara jogged over, looking equal parts bemused and concerned.
“Where on Earth did you find that man?” she asked, looking back to Gliridae.
Jeremiah didn’t bother to respond, turning to face the ravine. He planted his flaming plank firmly in the ground, and then drew his handguns. Julie Matthes did the same, except instead of handguns she pulled out a small shotgun. Fara carried a rifle, Eddie also had handguns, and Bill’s motorised arm whirred to life and clicked into place as he braced to punch.
Taking a deep breath, Jeremiah stepped forward.
Quick as a flash, the creature leapt out, wrapping itself around him and pulling him into the void. Every half dozen legs or so were pincers, which scrabbled for purchase against his wings. He managed to wrestle himself loose, catching only a scratch to one of his arms, and went into free fall. Activating his wings he twisted into a barrel-roll, shooting a volley of bullets in the general direction of the creature.
From the high-pitched screech, at least one of them landed. The sound of his own shots mixed with those of the others, who had seized the opportunity as soon as he was away from it. Most distinctive was the shotgun, with a double shot followed by a few seconds silence that seemed to ring louder than the discharges themselves.
Pulling up from his dive, he flew up above the line of the ravine, pivoting to look back to where the creature had been; it was gone. The others blinked up at him, confusion also clear in their faces, and then as their eyes widened something slammed into him from behind. This time they were in the light, and as he tumbled he found himself face to face with whatever… or whoever… the creature used to be.
The face was awful: skin as dry and flaky as parchment, bleached to dull grey from who only knew how long below ground. The area around the eyes was shrivelled, leaving two black holes that could have been enormous pupils or empty space, Jeremiah couldn’t tell. The mouth opened, and a piercing scream erupted.
They hit the ground hard, and the creature scrambled off as the volley of gunshots began anew. For a long moment Jeremiah lay there winded, trying to catch his breath, his thoughts scrambled from the impact and the echoing of the guns; then suddenly there was a pair of hands on him, and Bill was hauling him upright.
“Jeremiah, are you okay?” asked his friend. Jeremiah nodded, wincing from the sudden movement.
“I’m going to bruise, but nothing feels broken.”
Bill passed him his guns, which he must have dropped at some point, and they turned to the writhing millipede. It looked maybe 5 metres long stretched out, but Julie Matthes was sprinting down the length of its back whacking it with the flaming torches as it twisted and curled beneath her. Her shotgun lay to one side, bent nearly double. On the other side, Fara and Eddy were still firing.
The creature gave a final scream, and galloped back towards the ravine- right between the two of them. Fara managed to jump back, but Eddy was knocked by one of the shining black segments and stumbled. Losing his footing, he seemed to wobble in slow motion on the edge, before tumbling in.
“Shit!” Jeremiah sprinted to the spot, unfurling his wings as he did, and dived after. Within twenty or so metres, though, the light was ran out and he was surrounded by inky blackness. Swooping up, he snatched a candle, determined to try again. Bill grabbed him before he could do so.
They waited for three, four, five long seconds; then from the depths of the ravine, he heard a faint thud.
There was no surviving that. Jeremiah folded his wings away and tried to breathe.
“It’s not your fault,” Bill said, voice low. “There was nothing you could do.”
A little way away, Fara was crying, and Julie Matthes wrapped her into a tight embrace. Gliridae and Junior rejoined the group, Junior carrying Gizmo’s limp figure bridal style. The tiny musician looked shellshocked, staring at the ravine like it might swallow him too.
“I’ve never seen someone die before,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. Bill shook his head and turned away.
“You never get used to it.”