The Facility, Eganene

It took all their combined effort to move the stone. Pushing it wasn’t a possibility. They tried, but the scraping noise was like thunder in the night. Instead, they used their swords to lever it up an inch and then slid their hands beneath.

“One, two, three,” Jamison whispered, and they all heaved. With rounded backs and straining muscles, they managed to shuffle over to where the snow was deep and there were no protruding stones.

“One, two, three,” Jamison grunted again, and all the men let go. The impact was silent, and they breathed deeply.

“By the gods, that was big,” Charlie panted, his hands resting on his knees.

Richard laughed.

“Come on, let’s get down there and get wet,” Anthony urged. Richard giggled some more. Carl glanced up, but the moon had long ago disappeared behind the thick, winter clouds. He couldn’t see either of their faces.

“Pull it together,” Jamison growled. “Now is not the time for silly jokes. They might not be able to see us, but there is nothing wrong with their hearing. Carl, you and Malachi get down there and see if these pipes are passable. Here, I’ll give you a hand.”

Richard laughed again and his brother punched him in the shoulder, the motion invisible in the darkness. “By Tod, what was that for? That was funny.”

“Shut up. You need to be serious.”

“Fine.”

Jamison grabbed Carl’s forearm, his grip tight and true. “I’ll let you down slowly. You tell me if you need us to pull you back up.”

“All right.”

“Charlie, get his other arm.”

“Here we go,” Jamison said. Carl took a deep breath and put his weight on his elbows, dropping his legs into the dark pit. Nothing. His feet didn’t touch the bottom. He was a tall man, so that meant the drop was over five feet.

“You ready?” the Bounty Master asked him, his breath smelling of cheese and whisky.

“Ready,” Carl answered.

Charlie and Jamison held onto his arms and lowered him slowly into the blackness. Both men had strong grips. Carl was unafraid. They would haul him back up if he needed it.

His feet hit the ground with a splash. “I’m down,” he called. They released his arms. The smell was stronger below, like sour lemons. His tongue curled back into his mouth.

Jamison let out a heavy breath above, “Gods that stinks. How does it look?”

“Too far to climb back up without help,” Carl glared into the darkness. It was a long tunnel, pale green light emanating from somewhere far from him. The stone pit had been formed into a hollow tube. He had never seen anything like it.

Carl took a few steps, testing the ground. The floor was solid; water flowed over it. Inches deep, the scent was strong and distinctly chemical. “There is nothing down here we can stand on,” he called up. “Can we tie a rope to a tree?”

“No, that won’t work. Tree line is too far and we’d be exposed,” Jamison answered.

“Someone should stay behind then,” Malachi suggested, his voice materializing in the darkness. “They can pull us back up.”

“Good idea,” Jamison answered. Carl squinted into the air above him. The opening was a slightly grayer patch of blackness. They were lucky. It was the blackest of nights and they were not far from the forest line.

“Who’ll it be?” Charlie asked.

“They need to be strong enough to haul us out,” the Bounty Master declared.

“How about Sam?”

“Yeah,” Carl whispered. Sam was a good choice. He was the youngest of the men, but strong and capable. He would be safer in the woods, here, waiting, then down in the pipes.

“No. Let’s leave Richard,” Jamison countered. “Boy can’t keep himself together. We don’t want to be down there when he has a laughing fits.”

“Will he be able to pull us out? It was a decent drop to get in here.”

“Let’s find out.”

Charlie was lowered into the pipes next. Richard was indeed strong enough to pull him out. The rest of the men followed. Richard went to wait in the tree line, Jamison having told him that they would call for him when they returned. Everyone commented on the smell. Tobius put a drop on his tongue and declared it poison. Whatever chemicals they were using were dangerous, the liquid flowing from the pipes to the river.

Cautiously, they moved down the ducts towards the Facility, a chain of men squinting into the darkness. They didn’t speak, listening to the gentle splashing of their feet. Over and over, the passage split and Carl chose, trying to keep them on the straightest path. At each crossroad, he heard Jamison use his sword to scrape a mark in the ceiling.

He knew the old man was doing it to prevent them from getting lost, but the noise was incredibly loud, the metal-on-stone echoing in all directions. The rushing waters at their feet aided in the confusion. The noise bouncing and wavering strangely, as though it were coming from everywhere at once. Hopefully, if there were guards down here, they would have no idea where the sound originated.

The feel of the tunnel was oppressive. The smell was nauseating, every man aware of the danger they had put themselves in. Carl was alone with his thoughts. He counted the minutes as he went, listening to the sound of boots splashing into the filth. Only the coldness of the air kept him from retching, the sludge’s smell diminished by the freezing temperatures.

He had surprised himself earlier, talking to Jamison about his family. It wasn’t something he spoke about, having thought that years of silence had buried the memories deep. It was unnerving how sharp they remained, the dead clear in his mind. Why was he talking about it now?

Gods…and Smitty. It seemed impossible that his friend was dead. And not just him, his whole family. Smitty had lived in Faenella before Carl, as had his parents and grandparents, as far back as anyone could remember. It seemed strange the place could exist without him. Like someone had removed a supporting beam from their house, and he was waiting for the whole thing to crash down.

Carl had been a guest in their home, on many occasions sharing their fire and a hot meal. Both Smitty and his wife had been kind people, his skills helping the town prosper. A capable smith was a rarity. He had been the reason Faenella’s Market day was so successful.

It was sick to even think it, but Carl was lucky. Having already lost the people that mattered in this life, he needn’t fear losing his wife or child. The men behind him, the friends he had brought for this fight, had loved ones at home, people who would mourn them if they didn’t return, people they were worrying about right now. An image of Veri’s face, her wide eyes and long ringlets, popped into his mind.

Carl pushed it away. The girl was Charlie’s responsibility, his and Melody’s. He had no right to be thinking of her. While he was fond of her, she was their kid, now. There was no reason for him to be mooning about so.

Poor child had lost her whole family, too. Carl hadn’t seen it, but Veri had been in the midst of that carnage. She must’ve run, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t seen the atrocities. She may have been there when… Carl shivered, remembering the gore-splattered woods, the carriage and chunks of human remains. He remembered the snow-covered bushes stained red.

Something terrible had happened that night. That hadn’t been the work of a sword and no wild animal had ever done anything so bizarre. Poor thing, to be a witness to such horror. She might never talk about it.

Carl stopped. There was no way he could track time, not here in the dark, but they had to have walked for a half an hour. He tried to judge the distance in his mind. They were close. His gut told him they were beneath the buildings, but the stone foundation and pale, grey pipe muffled sound, revealing no clues to what was happening inside the Facility’s cavernous structure.

On point, he shuffled forward, wondering if it was day yet and if Richard was well hidden. The man might be immature, but he was also intelligent. The pipe lid they moved was the real problem. What if tower guards noticed the hole?

He hoped Richard was smart enough to cover it with tree boughs and snow. He and Jamison should have said something before they left, but things were moving too fast. They hadn’t had time to plan.

Another green light emanated from somewhere in front of them. They had been passing them every hundred feet or so, each one behind a heavy, metal grate. At the last, above it somewhere in the Facility, they had heard screams.

“Don’t stop,” Sam whispered somewhere behind him. “I’ve got a headache from this stench.”

Carl couldn’t help himself. Peering up into the ancillary pipe, he put his hands on the grate and tugged. No movement, although the flakes of reddish metal came off on his gloves. The bars were rusted, but not enough. He couldn’t pull them off. Hacking at it with his sword was out of the question. Too much noise.

There was nothing to see, anyway, only the pale green light shining from somewhere outside his view. Thankfully, this time, there were no sounds, no screaming.

“We should move on,” Malachi whispered. “I think I saw motion down there.”

Forty feet in front of the pipe split once again.

“Which direction?”

“Left.”

Carl grasped the pommel of his sword, ducking and pulling it over his shoulder in one fluid motion. The short blade was invisible in the darkness. Behind him the others listened, waiting for his signal. He heard their movement, their boots making little splashes.

Carl shuffled forward, making his way towards the split in the pipe. His eyes stung. He fought the urge to wipe them, unable to look away from the undulating blackness. Another few steps. The insides of his gloves were warm and sweaty. He rearranged his grip on his sword, pulling his dagger from its sheath. Another fifteen feet to the split. Ten. Five.

“There!” Malachi shouted, his hand on Carl’s shoulder.

Slicing through the air to his left, Carl felt the impact. Blood and flesh sprayed his face, surprising in their warm. He pulled the blade free, and stabbed the man with his dagger. The heavy splash was the only indication the guard was dead.

“What happened?” Tobius asked, his voice echoing down the tube to Carl’s ear.

Multiple voices shushed him.

Carl wiped his blades on his pants, but left them unsheathed. Something glimmered in the water and he bent to retrieve it. The gun was small and the safety was on. The man hadn’t known they were there. He handed Malachi the weapon. They were beneath the Facility. He knew it!

“We should go back.” It was Anthony, his voice hushed.

“We’re close,” Carl whispered back. The next light was thirty feet away, so he couldn’t see the men’s faces. “They wouldn’t have a patrol here otherwise. Let’s finish this.”

“Can’t you hear that?” Anthony asked. “They’re coming.”

“What?” Carl asked, confused.

“Footsteps, lots of them. They must know we’re here.”

Carl frowned, “I don’t think so. You’re probably just hearing noise from above us. This is the first guard.”

“We can come back tonight,” Anthony urged. “We have the tunnel marked now.”

“The safety was on. They don’t know we are here. Let’s find an entrance before we head back.”

“I agree with Carl,” Charlie said. “We might as well figure out where we’re going. It could be light out already. No point in going all the way back to wait until night to climb out. Let’s get this done.”

“You hear nothing?” the Bounty Master asked.

“No. It has to be above us,” Carl said, again. “Come on. Don’t trip on the body.”

The pipe they were in split three more times, and he followed the right-hand paths. The men walked in a chain, one hand out stretched out, the other gripping the shoulder in front of them. Carl kept his sword in his hand, his eyes straining to see movement in the blackness. His left hand was thrown out in front of him.

Luckily, his fingers found the wall before his face did. He stopped. “Dead end, I think.” Slowly, he followed the wall to the left, the stones giving way to a larger pipe. Pale, yellow light glowed from the top. Angled upwards, the pipe’s surface was littered with rotting garbage, heaviest at the grate. The chemical smell was stronger here, as was the smell of iron.

And then he heard it. “Voices,” he whispered to Malachi. “Let the others know.”

He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but he counted at least three different tones. The guard he killed had to have entered the tunnel somewhere. It seemed likely it was here. “Look for a door,” he whispered. The message was repeated down the line.

Carl felt Malachi release his shoulder and abruptly he was alone, invisible in the darkness. He could hear the other men, the soft steps in the acidic water, but there wasn’t enough light to make-out their silhouettes. Raising his arms, his gloved hands outstretched, he began to feel along the wall. This must be some kind of room, he thought as he took a few steps to the left. Carefully, he stood up, his hand searching for the pipe’s ceiling. He rolled his shoulders. He never wanted to do this again. Big men were not meant to crawl around in small pipes. He would stick to the woods.

Now that they knew about the trade, he could harass and kill the convoys heading south. What was the point in going to Orlenia, if they were just kidnapping the people from up here? No, there was plenty he could do from the woods around Faenella. Little tiny places and cramped passageways were not for him. He wasn’t built for it.

He realized he has no idea where anyone else had gone. How long since they separated? Two minutes? Five? This room was certainly bigger than the pipe they came from. What if the room had multiple exits, and they were separated? There was no telling how big the labyrinth was. They might never find each other.

“Pssst!” he called out urgently. Several of the closest splashing noises stopped. “Come back. Here. To me.”

A hand touched his back. “I’m here.” He recognized the voice as Malachi’s.

He waited a moment and tried again, “Pssst! Come back.”

Holding his breath, he waited for a response. Footsteps splashed towards them and then a voice asked, “Where are you?”

“Jamison, here,” Carl whispered, waving his arm about until he smacked the old man’s shoulder.

“Where are the others?”

Carl glared into the darkness, “I’m not sure, but this room is a lot larger than the pipe we came out of.”

“Quiet. Let me listen,” Jamison hissed. Carl didn’t like the edge to the old man’s voice.

The three men held their breaths and froze, straining to hear over the water and muffled voices. The air in his lungs was foul, like carrion and cat piss. What were those monsters doing up there?

Unvoiced as his question had been, it was suddenly and violently answered. Clanging and thumping erupted above them and then brilliant, white light shot down the pipe. The men cowered, momentarily blinded. Carl had ahold of Jamison’s shoulder and Malachi had his, but they threw out their free arms to block what light they could. Behind his eyes, pain exploded, a symptom of too much time in the dark.

A terrifying second and then another. They could see nothing, do nothing. And then the light was halved. Carl peeked around his arm and squinted his eyes. “There’s something in the tube,” he whispered, pulling the other men back.

Malachi grunted, “A body.”

“By Rae and Wul! He’s right,” Jamison agreed.

Carl’s eyes adjusted, although he wished they hadn’t.

Chunks of the woman’s scalp were bare, the blotchy whiteness a sharp contrast to the rest of her dark hair. The long strands of what remained waved fitfully through the grate as if she still longed for escape. Her head and shoulders were scrunched against the bars, the chemical water unable to flow past her into the tunnels.

Carl took a few steps closer. He couldn’t see her face, but her pale skin glowed in the white light.

“It’s going to back up,” Malachi observed.

Jamison’s eyes were elsewhere. “There’s your door,” he said, pointing to the far wall. It was a small and wooden, with bars of metal banding its joints and center.

“But where are the others?” Carl asked, peering into the grey light. The room was large, almost the size of the Inn in Faenella. Four pipes, including the one they had come from, led out of the room. The only other exits were the pipe up to the Facility and the door on the far wall.

Malachi moved closer to the dead girl, his shoulders set tight. His pants and boots were stained, the hide and leather now a sickly white color. Spots of the same decorated his jerkin. The chemicals in the water, whatever they were, were eating their clothes. He raised a glove hand and touched the girl’s hair. “Why would someone do this?”

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“We need to find the others,” Jamison replied, his voice strained.

“How?”

“I’m not sure, but they’ve got to be around here somewhere. It was only a few minutes. We know how we can get in. Now, we need to get back, regroup.”

Carl thought about the dead-end and the sharp turn that had landed them in this room. With the light from girl’s tube, the room made sense, but it hadn’t been that easy in the dark. If the rest of the group had gone down those other pipes. If they had made a few turns, they might never see the light at all.

Malachi hadn’t moved. Carl walked gently over to him and pulled at his arm, “Come on, man. There’s nothing we can do right now. We need to find the others.”

“Look,” he said, pointing up towards the white light. “The water is rising. She’s blocking the path. They’ll need to come and move her.”

“But the chemicals…”

“Will do their job eventually, but not fast enough. Look, you can see the water rising.”

Carl scowled over his shoulder, trying to ignore the soft, fleshy arm that rested against the metal beside his face. The bars pressed into her skin, the muscle giving way, the bruised, broken skin dissolving in the chemical soup that poured in from above. The water level had reached the girl’s feet, her toes waving bonelessly in the current. Malachi was right.

His friend gripped Carl’s shoulder tightly, “They’ll need to come down here to move her.”

Jamison joined them, “Possibly. What do you want to do?”

Malachi snarled, his teeth white against his face.

“Me too,” Carl agreed. “But what about the others?”

Jamison groaned, “No, you’re right. But we can’t go looking for them. There’s no telling which pipe they went down. Better to wait for them here. They’ll realize their mistake and come back.”

“How can you be sure?” Carl asked.

Jamison shook his head, “I can’t, but I don’t think we should split up. Too many options and too many chances. We wait here.”

Malachi pulled the daggers from his boots, “Good. I’m going to go wait by that door. I’ve got a feeling we’re going to have some company soon.”

Carl turned around, unsure where to go. There didn’t seem to be a good position. No cover. No protection. It was a stone cage. Granted, it had a bunch of openings, but there was no way to know where they led.

“Take the pipe to the left,” Jamison suggested, pointing with his sword. “I’ll take the one on the right. We wait until they come through the door. And we kill them. Get their weapons and any keys. Then find cover.”

“All right,” Malachi said, turned and made his way to the back of the door.

“You are good with this?” Jamison asked, passing Carl his flask.

Carl upended the canister and drank what was left, “Suppose I’ll have to be. I just wish I knew where the others were.”

“Me too, but we make the best of what we got.” The older man glanced at the corpse. “Can’t say I’m disappointed about the opportunity that’s coming.”

Carl nodded, “Me neither.”

Time passed, he had no idea how much. Had he been close enough to the corpse he would have been able to watch her skin melt, shrinking and sloughing off her muscle. As it was, he watched her hair. A few strands made in through the bars, the current taking them somewhere, out into the mountainside. Carl wished he could follow. The smell in here was almost unbearable, the acid stinging his nostrils and coaxing tears from his eyes.

Tobius and Sam found their way back, their drawn faces a mirror of his own discomfort. Having wrapped cloth about their mouths and noses, they pulled it down to call softly for their friends.

“Here! We’re here,” Carl whispered back, ushering them into the pipe he was hidden in. “Does that help with the smell?”

Sam nodded, “A bit. By the gods, I’m happy we found you.”

“You were lost.”

Tobius nodded, “As well as. We took a few corners. Came out of a chamber that looked a lot like this. Took me awhile to get my bearings. I was lucky and guessed our way back. Where are the others? What is with the light?”

“Don’t know,” Carl replied. “They disappeared, same as you. Malachi is near the door over there,” he said, pointing. “And Jamison’s down the pipe to the right.”

“Is that the one we came in?” Tobius asked.

Carl nodded, “I think so. Jamison marked it. We’ll be able to find our way out.”

“Where are Charlie and Anthony?” Sam asked.

“We don’t know. They’ll find their way back, same as you. Have faith.”

Tobius was staring at the lighted tube, “What’s that? It looks like a body.”

Carl pulled them closer, pitching his voice, “It is. A woman. Poor thing is smashed up on the grates, and the water can’t get by. Malachi thinks it’s going to back up enough that they’ll have to come and move her.”

“By Tod,” the father breathed.

Carl agreed, “We can’t bring her back, but while we waited for the rest of you lost lambs, we decided to deal with her killers.”

Tobius nodded once, “Good. They’re coming from that door?”

“We think.”

“How many?”

Carl shrugged, “At least three. Maybe. No way to know. Only thing I can say for certain is I heard three different voices up that white pipe. I’ve no idea if the room leads to that door or not.”

Sam looked sick. The boy’s face an unhealthy greenish color, the skin at the corner of his eyes pinched.

“Are you all right?” Carl asked.

Sam put his hand on his stomach, crunching inward, and his father put an arm around his shoulders, “Sam?”

“Calm down, kid,” Carl soothed. “I won’t ask you to do anything you don’t want to.” Sam was probably the best swordsman they had, having won more competitions than anyone in Faenella, but he was also young and green. And he had never killed anyone before.

The younger boy grimaced, “It’s not that. I…I’ve just never seen a dead girl...”

Tobius put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and led him down the pipe. Harsh retching sounds followed. Carl’s eyes tracked the doorway. If the men heard him, they would lose the element of surprise. Malachi had given Jamison the guard’s gun.

“Shhh,” he whispered. “It could be any moment.”

“Here,” Tobius said, once the boy was done. Carl took the cloth and wrapped it about the bottom of his face, tying it behind his neck. The smell didn’t disappear. But it lessened in intensity, so that the inside of his nose no longer burned.

“You two stay here. I’m going to wait with Malachi.”

Tobius nodded, the end of his long beard bobbing beneath his face mask. “Take this for him,” he said, handing Carl another piece of cloth. Sam was standing with his back to the pipe, watching them. Carl gave him a quick wave and left. He hoped the kid would be able to pull it together for the fight. They needed every man.

He checked the pipe with the body. The water had backed up several feet, completely eclipsing the opening above the girl. The white light had dulled. He avoided looking at the woman. Her killers would have to come and deal with her soon enough.

Carl gave his friend the strip of cloth. Malachi tied it around his face, and then replaced the sword on his back, drawing both daggers. Carl’s eyebrows rose. These weapons were new, longer than was traditional, the blades curved and tapered. They reminded him of the scythes the old men used to harvest wheat.

His friend flipped them both, grasping the pommels so that the blades followed the outer curves of his arms. Then he crouched. “I’ve been hearing noise the for past few minutes. I think they are coming.”

Carl grinned, forgetting that Malachi couldn’t see his face. He readjusted his own weapons and put his back against the wall. There were five steps rising out of the water. Carl was hidden on the blind side of the door, Malachi at his feet. Their next move would depend on the number of men that exited.

The heavy door opened with a bang, someone’s foot slamming into one of the iron bands. A sharp spike of adrenaline stabbed the pit of his stomach. Carl edged a few steps away. The noise from the two men entering the chamber masked his movement. He could only see their feet, but they wore thick boots that covered the entire length of their lower leg, the whitish leather ending just below their knees.

Malachi was perched at Carl’s feet, his blades hidden behind his back. The weapons trembled ever so slightly, like he wanted to lash out and sever the tendons behind the men’s knees. Long, dark jackets covered their upper bodies, decorated with white spots. Carl looked for guns, but couldn’t see anything.

The men said nothing, but advanced towards the blocked pipe. Both held long poles in their hands, the ends carved into sharp points. Malachi followed them, peering behind him at the open door. Carl took the hint, slipping silently up the steps into the light above.

There was no one in the hallway and the dim overhead lights shone with smokeless illumination. How can they have electricity, here? It didn’t make sense. The only place he had seen lights like these were in major cities. The Facility was large and remote. Perhaps this structure was important in the other world.

Softly, he followed the passage until he came to the end and was forced to chose between three doors. Putting his ear to each, he listened carefully, but heard nothing. He needed to hurry. When Malachi was close enough, he would finish both men, hopefully, without too much noise. With the element of surprise, it was possible Tobius and Sam wouldn’t even be involved.

Carl sheathed his sword and keeping his dagger in his right hand, tried the door. It was locked. He hurried to check the others. The last one turned in his hand and he froze, letting the door swing inward as he listened for sounds of motion. Hearing nothing, he used his foot to push the door open and step inside.

Another small room, the walls painted a bright white. Carl had never seen anything like it. Usually, in these buildings, the paint was faded and old, as though the structure was trying to melt away and disappear. More electric lighting burned along the walls. The pipe mouth was visible, resting on a large piece of slate. Water rushed down a smaller tube attached to the wall, filling the pipe opening and spraying tiny droplets of moisture into the air. The floor was slick. He entered carefully.

Hundreds of glass bottles were organized in the doorless cabinets that lined the walls. Chemicals, he thought, angling to search the table.

He heard a hallway door open. Whirling, he put his back against the wall.

“Door’s open. They must be down in the pits. Let’s go check on them,” said a male voice.

“Come on, I want to show you the pipes,” said another.

“Do we have to?” whined a younger man. “It smells down here. Let’s go back up. I’m sure there is something I need to learn topside.”

“Not a chance,” the first voice said. “All new hires pull guard duty here. And I’m putting you on the schedule for tomorrow.”

“But…”

“Don’t cry. Just because you’re his nephew…” the first voice continued, the men making their way towards the lower chamber.

Carl didn’t hesitate, but slipped into the hall after them. Thankfully, they were still talking, so they didn’t hear the soft squish of his boots. Five men. Pulling his sword from his back, he shifted his dagger into his left hand. The men wore long coats and boots, the same as the others. The youngest one, walked behind, his shoulders hunched and a hand over his mouth. The other four walked in front of him with easy, confident gates. The lights overhead flickered, once, then twice.

They were almost to the wooden door when a shout was heard from below.

Carl ran for them, and the man froze in fear.

Carl had seen it before out hunting, especially with smaller prey animals, and a few times with deer. The kid was terrified, rooted to his place, unable to flee. The other men were down the stairs at a run.

Five steps was all it took. The boy had time to turn towards him, the look of horror dissolving into fear, his mouth open in a scream. Carl’s dagger glided across his throat, his elbow connecting with boy’s chest to send him crashing into the wall. The boy’s arms and legs jerked like a doll.

Carl didn’t wait to watch him fall. It didn’t matter that he was only a boy. The kid crumpled behind him, but Carl was flying through the doorway. His foot hit the landing. He leapt for the steps, landing in a spray of poisonous water. Two bodies were on the ground. Malachi’s work.

Tobius, Sam and Jamison stood beside Malachi, their backs to the far wall. One of the guards spun back towards the stairs, having heard the splash or the dying scream. He had a sword in his hand. Carl parried the blow, the shock of impact rattling his arm. He stabbed at the man with his dagger, aiming for his waist, but his opponent stepped to the side.

Chemical water splashed around them, the small burns itching his skin. He squinted, praying it didn’t get in his eyes. He wished he knew how the others were fairing, but the guard was good, especially considering he had a single sword.

The man tried an overhand swing. Carl was forced to use both his weapons to stop the blow. Even so, the sword bit into his shoulder, driving him to his knees. As the guard pulled back for another strike, Carl dropped his weapons, diving for the man’s legs. His strong arms wrapped around them, like a child crying into his parent’s pants. Then, he hauled back.

The man stumbled and fell, a shout erupting from his open mouth.

Carl pivoted and jumped out of the way as the guard crashed down in a spray of water. Grabbing for his sword, he spun back to his opponent. The man was still down, screaming, his gloved hands pawing at his eyes.

The acid, Carl thought, ramming his sword through the man’s heart to end his misery. He saw his dagger and grabbed it out of the water. Quickly, he turned to the others. One of the guards was down, Jamison and Malachi stepping away from the fallen body. Sam and Tobius each had their own man.

Malachi was already moving to help them. Jamison was slower to follow. Carl suspected he had injured his leg again. The man was too old to be doing this kind of work. He should have stayed behind.

Carl ran toward Sam, shouting for Malachi to help Tobius. He didn’t wait to see if he heard, but sprinted for the boy. The blond youth was hard pressed. Carl saw him deflect two rapid blows, his form sloppy and unsure, his feet stumbling over one another as he retreated. But the kid regrouped, settling his shoulders and counterattacked.

It was a good, strong hit and well placed! The man hounding him stumbled back.

“Carl!” he heard a familiar voice shout and he whirled.

Charlie and Anthony ran from the pipe beside him. Charlie’s sword was in his left hand, his right arm flopping uselessly at his side. Two men flew after them, feet behind, their faces rictuses of fury.

Carl changed directions. Charlie stumbled passed him, but Carl’s eyes were on the guards. The first man skidded to a stop, but Carl didn’t wait, pulling his sword around his body with deadly force as he sliced. The guard screamed. He felt himself smile.

The second man was less foolish. Pulling a gun from his waist, he stalked forward, giving Carl a wide berth as he struggled to pull his sword from the dead body at his feet.

The world shattered. Bang! Just one bullet. The noise exploded in the confined space, like glass stabbing his brain. It bouncing from wall to wall, destroying coherent thought. Carl went down on one knee, his dagger dropping uselessly into the water, his arm wrapped protectively around his head.

When he was able to look up, he saw everyone in the room was down. Jamison had both elbows against the side of his head, eyes squeeze tight. Blood streamed down the side of his face, staining the cloth over his mouth. It looked like a black flower blooming.

Sam and Tobius were together, a dead man at their feet and another guard incapacitated. All three were on their knees, pain on their faces. As he watched, Tobius struggled to rise, his sword in his hand. Malachi, too, was recovering. He had lost one of his daggers, but he had his sword in his hand instead. The whites of his eyes were just visible as he squinted towards Carl.

Behind him, Anthony had Charlie in his arms, his head buried in the bigger man’s shoulder. Charlie, himself, was the only one who appeared peaceful, as though he were sleeping. The guard with the gun was closing on them, blood running from both his ears.

Carl pulled himself up and stumbled towards them. The man didn’t hear him coming. The world slid sickeningly and Carl took a deep breath and lunged, remembering to close his eyes as he fell. He caught himself on his palms, losing the sword in the process. Pulling off his glove, he wiped the chemical from his eyes and looked up.

The guard was down.

Carl let out the breath he had been holding. The room was spinning, the dull, white light from the pipe, and brighter illumination from the door, twisting side to side. “Are you all right?” he rasped, trying to focus on Charlie.

“Shot,” Anthony replied, his voice weak and panicked.

Swords clanged somewhere beside him. Carl turned his head in that direction, afraid his sudden movement might cause him to pass out. A body splashed into the water close to the girl’s pipe. “Who’s down?” he called.

“Last guard,” Malachi replied, his voice soft and garbled. “Get up, Carl. We need to get out of here.”

“Charlie’s been shot.”

“Gods. Tobius, Sam, search the bodies and get the weapons. Get Jamison up. I’m going to help with Charlie.”

Carl put his glove back on and pushed himself up. He found his weapons and took the gun off the guard. He slipped it into his waistband, feeling the water burn his skin. His nausea was passing, although his shoulder still throbbed where the guard’s sword had broken his flesh. Sheathing his sword and dagger, he pulled Charlie up with his good arm. Malachi appeared on Charlie’s other side. Even then, it was a struggle. Lie was nothing if not massive. They were probably shouldering close to two hundred and fifty pounds of dead weight between them.

Jamison helped Anthony to his feet, “Get your sword. You’re on point.”

“But, I can’t…”

“No, they’re going to have enough trouble with Charlie. I can’t see anything. Follow the marks,” he ordered, pointing to the original tube. “Sam. Tobius. You get ready to relieve the others. There’s no way they’re getting all the way back carrying Charlie by themselves.”

“Of course,” father and son replied.

“I don’t think I can find the marks,” Anthony whispered.

“Gods, boy, fine. I’ll take point. I’ll find them with my hand if I have to. Let’s get the out of here.”

Anthony’s higher voice rung through the tunnel, “Hurry. You’ve got to hurry.”

Carl grimaced and pushed himself to move faster. With his arm around his friend’s limp body, he squinted into the darkness, trying to see Jamison’s silhouette. His body craved shelter, camouflage. He wanted to move carefully, subtly, but it was impossible. With Charlie between them, he and Malachi side-stepped thought the tunnels. Both of his shoulders ached miserably, his head throbbing away in time to the beat of his heart.

Liquid trickled from his ears and he realized why everyone sounded muted. The gunshot had blasted his hearing. With a sinking feeling he realized he wouldn’t be able to hunt, not if he couldn’t hear. He shoved the thought away.

He should be thinking about Charlie. He didn’t even know where his friend had been shot. There wasn’t enough light to check. Sam and Tobius walked behind them, ready to take over his burden, but Carl didn’t want to let go. If he could have carried him back alone, he would have.

As it was, he knew he was pushing Malachi hard. Thankfully, the man was strong. Carl figured he had at least another hundred feet before they needed to switch. They were both breathing hard, sucking in poisonous fumes. His entire upper body was in pain, even the insides.

“It was this way, wasn’t it?” Jamison whispered in front of him.

Carl stopped, throwing out his arm to rest his weight on the side of the pipe. If they were lost, it was the end. There would be more guards. There was no way they could run and hold Charlie out of the water at the same time.

A shout split the silence, its echo reverberating through the tunnel. Carl tried to whirl in the darkness, but Charlie’s weight pitched forward, the large man dropping his head first towards the toxic liquid at their feet. Desperate, Carl leapt for his friend, grabbing him with both arms. Heaving up, he backed against the pipe’s slick surface, the muscles in his knees trembling.

Malachi must have let go, turning back in the direction they had come, towards the scream. Loud splashes filled the darkness.

“What happened?” Carl yelled, pitching his voice over Charlie’s shoulder and back down the pipe.

No one answered.

Heavy footsteps. The sounds of a scuffle. Carl wanted to turn around, draw his sword and protect their backs, but he couldn’t let go of his friend. Helpless, he wasn’t even holding a weapon. If someone attacked him, he was dead.

Metal clashed, the sound muffled and distant. The best he could determine, the fight was happening in their pipe, but a good distance away. Another clang. Carl locked his jaw, the sounding reverberating through his teeth, back into his skull.

Charlie’s wet hair flopped against his face, the chemicals burning like a bee sting. Carl glared into the darkness and waited, ignoring the pain. Someone screamed, the sound piercing the darkness to stab at him from afar. The sound was unnatural, all but palpable in the black air. Whoever that had been would not be long with living.

“Can you see anything?” Jamison asked from beside him.

Carl pulled Charlie higher in his arms and leaned against the pipe, trying to take some of the weight off his arms, “Nothing. It’s all dark. Someone just died.”

“I know, son. Can I get by?”

“No. I’m hardly holding Lie up as it is. If there was light, we could try, but as it is, I’m afraid you’ll knock him out of my arms.”

Heavy footfalls splashed behind him. Carl tensed. There was nothing to see, nothing but darkness. There was no way to know who was coming. His fingers twitched, desperate to search for his sword.

“Sam?” he called. “Malachi?”

One second. Two. More splashes, the sound warping through the tunnel. Was it getting closer? Carl’s heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest, as if there was nothing but a paper wall between the organ and the air. Gods, he needed his sword.

Jamison put a hand on his shoulder, “Steady now, son.”

Carl’s arms twitched involuntarily. There was nothing he could do. He wasn’t about to drop Charlie. To hell with these pipes!

The sounds were closer now. Whoever it was must be close. He gripped Charlie’s coat manically, struggling to keep his hold. I won’t drop him, he told himself. I will not drop him.

Someone stepped on his foot and Carl grunted, his breath catching in his throat. Panic cascaded down his spine in a rush of prickles. A hand touched his arm, “Who are you?” he hissed.

“Me,” Malachi whispered, panting.

“What happened?”

Malachi took a breath, his voice sad and worn, “It’s Anthony, Carl.”

“Dead?”

“Guard came up from behind. He saved our backs.”

“Gods have mercy,” Jamison prayed. “What’ll we tell Richard?”

“Here,” Carl pushed Charlie towards Malachi, hot barbs of guilt piercing his stomach. Anthony was a just a kid, a boy he had known for over a decade. The first time Carl met him, he had been playing on the floor at his mother’s house. Squeezing past Jamison and the rest, he ignored the uncomfortable closeness.

Sam clutched his arm as he passed, “We didn’t hear anything, Carl. Didn’t hear a sound. His footsteps, the splashes, sounded like ours.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“All of a sudden they were fighting. If he hadn’t been behind us, it would’ve been me.”

“It could’ve been any of us, Sam. There was nothing you could have done. Come on.”

Sam followed, a comforting presence at his back. Carl’s eyes searched the ground for the body. Twenty feet back the pipe split, the metal grate barring the way past. Greenish light illuminated the area. Carl saw the dead man’s face.

Two men, actually. Anthony’s chest cavity was torn open, the maul that killed him still embedded above his heart, the tines stuck on his ribs. Most of his head was underwater, everything except his nose. The dark fluid rippled gently as it passed, as though his breath could still disturb its path. He had killed the guard. The man was face down, the handle of Anthony’s dagger jutting from his neck. “Search them both,” Carl whispered to Sam. “We need to move.”

“I…”

“Just do it.”

Carl turned his back on the scene. How old had Anthony been? Twenty? Just a kid. How was he going to explain this to Richard? Or their mother? What should he tell her? What had her son even died for?

They hadn’t even made it into the building. Hadn’t rescued anyone. Hadn’t found out any information that could help them. He had died because he was too scared to take point, because he’d been unlucky enough to be last, and because Carl had brought him here.

“We can’t carry him, too,” he told Jamison when he returned. “My arms are shot. Tobius and Sam are going to have to carry Charlie. I don’t think Malachi and I can…”

“No, you’re right.”

“What about Richard?” Sam asked. “Shouldn’t we…”

“No,” Jamison argued. “If we don’t make it to the woods in the next half an hour, they’ll have us surrounded. That might have been a scout, but someone is going to look for those other guards…”

“We can’t leave him,” Malachi said.

Carl shouldered his way back to the front, stopping to grab Malachi’s arm, “Give Charlie to Tobius.”

“But I…”

“I know,” Carl agreed. “But, there is nothing we can do for the kid now. We need to get out of here. We’ll come back. I promise. We’ll take care of these monsters.”

“All right, but… This is beyond wrong, Carl. These people are evil. They killed Anthony and that poor girl. Who knows how many more! These chemicals. What is all this?”

“We will talk about it when we have more time. Right now, we’ve get out of here, Malachi. Richard is up there waiting for us. And Charlie is… Charlie is injured. We need to get him help.”

Malachi shook his head. The ends of his braids were white now, stained by the acid waters and just visible in the blackness. “Fine, Carl. I’m with you. But this can’t stand. We have to do something about this place.”

“We will. We’ll come back.”

Carl moved off quickly, his dagger in hand. He had to concentrate on getting them out of here. He would figure out everything else later.