“Wait. Did you see piranhas?”
“Not yet,” Evans said, with another wag. “The story says, the guy lost his wife and his home, and had no one to care for the kid. He built a secret apartment in the basement of the factory where he worked, so he could keep an eye on him. On the boy’s tenth birthday, he bought him a tankful of exotic fish.”
“I’ve heard this one. The steel factory is...” I turned, locating the tall skeleton of a building at the end of the block. The jutting smoke stacks were dark. The faded red lettering on the side read Arno Steel Works. I jerked a thumb at the vacant structure. “Back there. But it was a baby alligator, not piranhas.”
Evans frowned. “The owner of the pet store gave the man piranhas by mistake. When the father figured it out, he—”
“Flushed it down the toilet?”
“Come on, Nite. You can’t flush a fish that size,” he said, like my suggestion was the only ridiculous part of the story. “The father was one of the men suspected of illegally dumping the factory’s toxic waste through…” Evans paused, making me wait, “their super-secret sewer access.”
“Say that ten times fast,” I muttered.
“The pet shop refused to give the man a refund, so the steel worker dropped the piranhas in a barrel of waste. The factory shut down. The father carried out a murder-suicide in the furnace room. And those piranhas have been there ever since, swimming in all that toxic soup. Swimming and breeding—and growing,” he grinned.
“Who buys exotic fish for a blind kid?”
“Maybe he was deaf, not blind.”
“And maybe it was an alligator?”
“It was piranhas. Other cities might have alligators in their sewers. We do things a little different here in the Sentinel.”
“I’ve noticed. But piranhas are messy eaters. These cuts are clean.” I nodded at a severed hand and the lower half of a leg floating by. “Like at the river.”
“I heard about that. Did Harper really find skin?”
“Unfortunately.” I didn’t want to encourage his fascination with the legend, but Evans had given me an idea. “What else do you know about the scandal?”
“I heard the foreman at the steel factory was at the heart of it. He organized the building owners and they walled off portions of the tunnels to hide their goo.”
“That could explain the clog. The city’s drainage system hasn’t been taxed like this in decades. If it’s not working at full capacity, it wouldn’t take much to choke the drains and wash whatever’s down there up here.”
“We should check it out.”
I looked at Evans and said exactly what he wanted to hear. “Okay. We need to hurry, though.” I nodded in Creed’s direction. He was shaking his head, trying to get a word in between the bickering man and woman. One of the firefighters had joined them. No one looked happy. “Once they stop arguing, we’ll have company.”
Evans stared into the hole. “You think it’s contaminated?”
“Guess we’ll find out…when you grow another set of eyes.” I slipped off the edge and jumped, splashing water halfway up the chute as I landed.
“Show off.” Evans climbed down, making a much smaller splash as he stepped off the ladder. As he swept his light over the passage, I made note of our surroundings.
Concrete ramps ran along both walls, giving access to the large conduits and cables fastened near the ceiling. Ahead, reinforced archways of muck-stained bricks outlined a T-junction. Dirt caked the flood lamps at the head of each passage. Rushing water echoed in from somewhere in the distance.
“Let’s head toward the water,” I said. “I want to see what’s causing the clog.”
“One of the maintenance guys gave me a look at the plans and modifications have been done to this whole area. It was long before his time. He couldn’t say if the work was official, only that it was old and certain sections are strictly off limits.”
“Sounds promising. Anything else?”
“Most of the work is that way.” Evans shined his beam down one of the tunnels. “Coincidentally—or not—that’s also the direction of the abandoned steel factory at the center of the whole toxic waste conspiracy.” He shoved the flashlight under his chin, casting a creepy glow over his face. “Legend says, the evil spirits of the father and son still walk these passages, feeding their giant, four-eyed piranhas the flesh of their victims.”
Groaning, I shoved him in front of me. “Come on ghost-hunter. You’re leading the way.”
“You think something is living down here?” he said, as we started forward.
“Dark, private, and underground is the perfect place to build a nest. Until it floods, and your meal is suddenly floating down the street.”
“But does it fit with the crime scene at the river?”
“That’s what we’re here to find out.”
Shifting my eyes to accommodate the gloom, I clicked on my flashlight for extra help, and followed Evans down the passage. As we moved away from the entrance, the air temperature dropped, and the water level grew. There were more junctions, abrupt turns, dead ends, and walls that didn’t fit with the rest of the construction. Household items and personal belongings, swept away by the storm, bobbed around us; a sneaker, a playground ball, the arm of a busted lawn chair. It wasn’t long before my socks were squishing in my boots. It took even less time to abandon the idea of getting a clean scent. Between the recent influx of muddy water, trash, and vegetation entering the busy drains, if a creature was down here, I wouldn’t know until it was on top of me.
“Feels like we’re back under the Chandler house,” Evans said. “Only, this tunnel stinks worse. And it’s…” He lifted a foot from the debris floating around our ankles. A tangle of wet leaves and sludge clung to his shoe. It oozed off and slipped back in the water. “Nasty.”
We turned yet another corner, and the whisper of water grew into a moderate roar. The way narrowed. A couple hundred feet later, it was cut in half by a brick wall running parallel to the main tunnel.
Evans stopped, trailing a hand over the crumbling cement between the bricks. “Hey. Check it out.” He trained his light on a hole near the bottom of the wall. The opening was a good foot wide. Water was draining out from the other side. The steady flow was slowly widening the hole, as it freed more bits of concrete and stone.
“Looks like the old construction couldn’t handle the excess rain,” he said. “I wonder why the city hasn’t repaired it or tore it down? It’s clearly not safe.”
I shrugged. “Lack of resources. Money. Hush payments. An old neighborhood no one gives a shit about. Or all of the above.” Bending, I tried to get a look at the other side, but darkness and the rushing water interfered. “There must be a breach on the other side, a broken main or pipe.”
“Why is the water still on if the buildings are vacant?”
“Good question. It could be coming in from the river. Any good illegal dumper would have a way to ferry their waste straight out into the water.”
“I’m never going fishing there again.” Evans swung his light over the length of the wall. “I can’t see a way in.”
“Then we make one.” Scaling a hand, I pushed three shots of fire out above, and on either side of, the compromised section of the wall. The stone broke apart with a billow of dust. Pieces tumbled, dislodging more bricks, and releasing a rapid surge of water. The icy stream broke over our legs and dispersed through the tunnel. As the flow from the other side began to dwindle, something splashed out with it.
Spotting the dark shape at the same time, Evans let out a sharp yelp. “Holy—what the fuck is that?”
I grabbed the object knocking into my shin and held it up. Spinning at the end of a clump of scraggly hair, was a severed head. The eyes were bloated and cloudy. Water dripped from the dangling cords. Aside from the skull being too large for a human, the nasal cavity and jaw were elongated and tapered. I couldn’t be sure of the species. There was no identifying hide or flesh on its face.
&n
bsp; Evans recoiled with a disgusted, “Guess we’re going the right way.”
Lifting the head, I examined it closer. There was nothing to indicate biting or tearing. The edges around the scalp were clean. “The face was surgically removed.”
“Like the skin at the river?”
“Exactly like the skin at the river.” So much for one and done.
“What do we do with it? No one’s going to mistake that for human.”
“I know.” I handed Evans my flashlight and stepped away. Holding the unexplainable evidence out in front of me, I swept scales over my other hand and placed it underneath. With an abrupt whoosh and a flare, flame shot up from my palm and engulfed the head.
It took a high heat to burn bone. Feeling it wafting his direction, Evans fanned himself and stepped back. He emptied his holster and peered in through the break in the wall. “I’ll meet you on the other side.”
He stepped through, and I ignored my impulse to call him back. Evans was relatively new to monster-hunting but, despite his fanboy moments, he wasn’t naive. He was clever and alert, and smart enough to know when to proceed and when to run. I couldn’t worry about him at every turn anymore. Only every other one.
I finished the job and joined him beyond the wall. Most of the water had escaped when I blasted the hole, leaving only a few inches to hide the floor. Already divided from the main tunnel, the narrow passage was made even more so by a series of brick partitions. Erected every ten or twelve feet, and stretching far into the dark, the walls formed small rooms. Some were closed off by metal grates, some by doors, rotting and half off their hinges. The way forward continued into darkness.
Following the glow of his flashlight, I found Evans four rooms down. The small space was empty, but as he turned to face me, he had something in his hand.
“Sledgehammer,” he said, lifting the object higher. “Five bucks says that hole in the wall wasn’t natural. If our monster-of-the-week was stashing his food down here, he could have let been trying to alleviate the water pressure before the whole damn thing collapsed.”
It was a sound theory. Except, it implied a level of education not all creatures possessed. “Did you find anything else?”
“No glowing, green, toxic goo, if that’s what you mean. Not even a barrel with crossbones,” he added in disappointment, as he put the sledgehammer down. “But check this out…”
I followed Evans into the next room. A rusty lid was leaning against the wall. He picked it up. The logo was faded. Only one word was legible. I read it aloud. “Arno. Wasn’t that the name on the steel factory?”
“Yep. But if something is squatting down here, and the entrance to this section is secret, how did they find it? It’s not like creatures from other worlds are clued in on the city’s decades old criminal activity. Except, lyrriken and the Guild. And the dragons…” he trailed off, his theory devolving.
“This isn’t a lyrriken or a dragon. Whatever creature we’re dealing with, it was probably scoping out the building and stumbled across some hidden door. And by the way. None of this proves there’s toxic waste here. Or piranhas.”
He dismissed me with a laugh. “Doesn’t prove it isn’t.”
“If there is, you might want to stop grinning. And put the lid down.”
I wasn’t sure which dropped faster; the lid or his expression.
Amused, I turned and wandered down the slender corridor. It had been walled off for decades, making the smells different than the rest of the sewer. It was still damp and musty, but the rot, the prevalent garbage smell from the other side wasn’t here. There was less overlap to contend with, making it easier to sort out the faint, anomalous odor in the distance.
Something was burning.
I walked toward the smell. “I want to see what’s at the end. Check the rest of the rooms. If there’s nothing you can’t explain, go ahead and call forensics. They’ll be down here soon enough on their own.”
“What if I find another floating monster head?”
“Give me a shout. We must have walked nearly to the end of the block. It can’t be much farther to…” A noise snagged my attention. I shined my light ahead into the passage. Nothing was moving. No new smells had emerged. But there was a grinding, scraping noise that hadn’t been there before.
The sound faded, growing softer, echoing as it…
Moved away.
I pivoted back to Evans. “Did anyone come down here before us?”
“Two guys, I think. But they were in and out before you got here. Why?”
“We may have company. Stay here,” I said, as Evans took a step. “You need to clear these rooms before Creed shows up.”
At his reluctant nod, I shut off my light and headed into the dark.
My first instinct was to go slow and keep my splashes to a minimum. I didn’t want to spook whatever was out there. But I didn’t have a lot of time to be covert. And I wasn’t the one who left evidence where it had a high likelihood of being found or made noise when I was sure to hear it. The thing was practically laying a goddamn invitation at my doorstep.
The sound grew louder. I wasn’t going faster or getting closer, though. It was slowing down to give me time to catch up. It wants me to follow, I thought. It wants me to see what it’s doing. The entire thing had the makings of a trap, but there were plenty of places to ambush us in the dark sewer. It didn’t have to lead me away.
This was something else. It was a purposeful, prideful action that put a dent in my suspect list. Monsters who killed for food didn’t want an audience.
I followed the wall of partitioned rooms a good five minutes more before an iron grate brought me to a halt. Beyond the bars, the tunnel widened again, then split another thirty feet back. An oversized maintenance box threw a heavy gloom into the empty space beneath the arch of the intersection. There was still no noticeable creature smell. The stillness of the shadows implied they were natural and harmless. The sound was gone, and the silence begged me to doubt my instincts. No one was there. I was wrong.
Bullshit.
Focusing harder, forcing my eyes to make sense of the shadows, I spotted something leaning against the dark curve of the arch. The shape was human-like, about my height. Its bulk implied male, but I couldn’t be sure. It blended almost perfectly.
“Hey, asshole,” I said. “Your pantry is flooded. In case you didn’t know.”
There was no reply, no movement.
“I already played hide and seek once this week, and I like tag even less. So why don’t you come out and introduce yourself?”
Still nothing.
I sighed. “Guess you’re a little shy.” I gripped the grate and gave it an irritated shake. “Too bad I didn’t bring one of the pieces you hacked off. Severed limbs make great conversation starters.”
The shadow stepped away from the wall. Separating defined its edges and confirmed the build. Male. One hand lingered on the bricks. As his body turned the corner, clawed fingers trailed behind, scraping, grazing the stone; taunting me, as they disappeared around the bend.
The scraping was replaced a moment later by the screeching groan of a metal door, followed by a solid clang as it closed. He was leaving.
I don’t think so.
I gripped the metal tighter and gave it a yank. Two more, and the aged concrete around it fractured. One more, and the grate pulled free. I tossed it aside and stepped through. The junction beyond led multiple ways. I assumed each tunnel led to one of the buildings involved in the illegal dumping, but I was only interested in one.
Sliding the weapon out from the back waistband of my jeans, I checked the clip, then turned down the same tunnel as my watchful shadow. The passage was shorter than I expected. The access beyond was more like a large hatch than a door. Its handle turned with ease.
If this was one of Evans’s monster movies, it would open to total darkness. Creepy hands would reach out, pull me in, and I’d never be seen again.
“Good thing monsters aren’t real.”
<
br /> Rusty hinges groaned, announcing my arrival as the hatch opened to—
Lights. So far so good.
I stepped into the shaft. It was wide, but short. A flood lamp illuminated the iron ladder on the opposite wall. I had a good idea what was at the top of the four rungs: the spooky, disheveled, ghost-filled basement of the abandoned steel factory.
Climbing up, I peered into the cavernous space.
Girders tarnished pipes and conveyor belts edged the tall ceiling. Rooms, no more than shells, without ceilings, doors, or glass in the window openings, lined the walls. Piles of steel sheeting metal scraps, and old machinery loomed throughout, creating pockets of darkness to rival the lakes of trauma overlaying the graffiti-covered floor.
I was almost right. It was spooky, cluttered, full of shadows and ghosts. Only one of my predictions was wrong. The abandoned steel factory wasn’t abandoned.
Four
I was moments behind the mysterious figure, but he was gone by the time I entered the basement. The usual rank odors of disuse and decay clung to the mildewed walls, mixed with ash, charcoal, sulfur, the musky scent of multiple creatures, and blood—lots of blood. The overwhelming combination stymied my efforts to identify the occupants. Though, the takeout containers, empty beer bottles, and the deck of cards strewn across the table inside the door, suggested a species familiar with the local customs.
The focal point of the massive room was the main blast furnace in the center. It was a beast of a machine. Though it sat cold, dark, and quiet as a sleeping dragon, I could easily imagine the heat and power it once held.
Not far to the side, an orange glow and a noticeable warmth leaked from a row of smaller ovens. An unoccupied, blood-splattered gurney was parked in front of each. The stacks outside weren’t in operation. Somehow, they were diverting the smoke away from the building.
I moved to the closest gurney. The blood was still tacky in spots. The rest of the stains were old and dry, left to soak into the matting with enough shade variations to suggest many different species had bled here. Bled and died, I thought, choking on the abundance of trauma in the room. Not all of it was fresh. Ghosts had haunted this place for decades.
Smoke & Mirrors Page 4
