Niles took hold of the Gibbs. Kevin felt glad to be rid of the burdensome load, and relieved that he’d brought the correct rifles. Both hunters removed the caps off of the scopes and put them in the knapsack, then they checked the rifles over, working the bolts.
They loaded each rifle with ammunition, making sure to chamber a round. Cunningham clicked the safety on and handed the Weatherby back to Kevin.
“Don’t you want the rifle?” Kevin asked.
“We hired you to be a gun bearer,” Cunningham responded. “Toughen up, and carry the rifles. We’ll let you know when we need them.”
Niles finished checking over the Gibbs, flicked on the safety, and then handed it to Kevin.
Taking the rifle, Kevin slung it over his left shoulder, barrel pointed down. He eased the Weatherby onto the right shoulder and grabbed the slings.
****
They started into the tunnel with Niles in the lead holding the lantern. Cunningham followed Niles. And Kevin plugged along bent slightly forward, holding the slings tightly. The daylight at the entrance of the pipe only provided illumination for ten meters. After that, each step led them farther and farther into blackness.
The lantern only shed enough light for Niles to lead the way. Trailing behind Cunningham’s bulk, Kevin sloshed through the wet pipe in the shadow of the Great Hunter. He could barely perceive the clumps of debris scattered throughout the tunnel: twigs, moss, and mounds of silt. Detritus had entered the pipe and flown along the rivulet until snagging.
Shimmers of light guided Kevin’s way. Occasionally, he tripped or stumbled on debris, indiscernible in the shadows. He worried about falling, and scraping a rifle on the pipe.
Both rifles were pristine with shiny stocks and impeccable barrels. Not like his Winchester .30-30 lever action. A nicked stock, the Winchester had worn bluing on the muzzle, where rain cascaded off the roof of his deer stand. He’d built the deer stand in a pine tree with his father near their hunting lodge in Maine. After a few rainy hunting seasons, the two got the idea to build an overhang. They caught some flak from guys at the camp, but always came back drier than the rest of them.
Occasionally, after Kevin stumbled, Cunningham snapped at him to be careful. Kevin wanted to explain the poor light, but he knew Cunningham wouldn’t accept any excuses. He’d just tell Kevin to toughen up.
The pipe eventually leveled off, so less debris appeared underfoot. Sloshing along, Kevin felt water inside his jackboots. The mud and water streaming through the pipe soaked his boots, turning both socks soggy. He hadn’t expected to carry the rifles the entire way. Kevin’s calf muscles tightened from the extra load and waterlogged boots.
There wasn’t any indication that Cunningham would stop and take a break. The pipe seemed to extend forever into darkness. At first, Kevin could see daylight pouring from the mouth of the pipe. After a series of subtle turns, daylight slipped from view. Underground in the middle of nowhere, they slogged through a pipe in utter blackness, except for scant light emanating from the lantern.
Kevin felt claustrophobic. The top of the pipe was merely centimeters over their heads, low enough that Niles had to stoop. Cunningham didn’t pay the conditions any mind; he barreled along, unconcerned with discomfort or fear.
The thought of earth above them, pressing down on the pipe, daunted Kevin. He hoped for rest, but part of him just wanted to get it done, as quickly as possible. He distracted himself by focusing on other things. And then his thoughts eventually turned to the Rhino-pards.
“What if the beasts are up ahead?” he said.
“We’d certainly hear them,” Cunningham replied. “And blazes, the sound you’re making… splashing through the water… would certainly scare away the most ferocious beast in the jungle.”
Niles chuckled.
“What if they’re attracted to the light?”
“We’d shoot them, of course,” Cunningham said. “That’s the job that we’re getting paid to do.”
“Relax, lad,” Niles assured him. “They’ve gotten to the surface and killed a few people, so the Rhino-pards have likely moved well beyond here.”
“They’re bedding somewhere under the city,” Cunningham added, “not too far from our flat, judging from the where the attacks have occurred.”
“But most big game roam a large territory, right?”
Niles smirked and patted the Great Hunter on the shoulder. “Sounds like you’ve got an upcoming big game hunter on your hands,” he said to Cunningham.
“Seems to have some knowledge,” Cunningham agreed.
The three of them continued on in silence, drudging through the dank tunnel. The lantern swung back and forth slightly, occasionally cascading shimmers of light upon the sides of the pipe.
Niles halted abruptly.
Cunningham stopped as well, his bulk obscuring the view ahead. There was no way for Kevin to see why the hunters had come to a standstill. A second passed into two, but Kevin was afraid to break the silence and ask why they stopped.
Then, Niles sloshed over to the side of the pipe, the lantern swinging widely as he stepped away. Peering around Cunningham, a pipe intersected with the one they were traveling through. The Great Hunter stepped alongside Niles and looked it over.
“What do you make of it?” Cunningham asked.
A large corrugated metal hatch stood alongside the opening. The hatch was housed in a track, so it could slide shut, blocking off the intersecting tunnel.
“Makes a lot of sense,” Niles replied.
“How so?”
“The condensate drain pipe only needed to be a meter wide by my rough estimation,” Niles answered. “This intersecting pipe is likely connected to the tunnel system under the city.”
“For draining excess storm-water from the sewer system?” Kevin suggested.
“Exactly,” Niles said. “During heavy storms, the sewers get overwhelmed and would back up into the street, unless the water had a place to drain.”
“So they connected a sewer overflow pipe to the condensate line,” Kevin said. “And they installed this hatch to allow the overflow line to drain through the condensate line when needed.”
“That’s correct,” Niles confirmed, holding the lantern closer to the hatch. “You can see from the rusty tracks that they just keep it open all the time. Try giving it a shove.”
Kevin walked over and grabbed the side of the hatch. It had jagged edges, so he carefully grabbed hold of it, and then he lunged forward pushing with his body weight. The hatch didn’t budge.
“The Rhino-pards likely went this way,” Niles said, pointing to the intersecting pipe.
“This would explain how they surfaced in the city,” Cunningham said.
“We’ve come quite a distance,” Niles said. “This pipe is likely to lead under the channel fairly soon.”
“Shouldn’t we let someone know that we’re down here?” Kevin said.
“Why the blazes would we need to do that?” Cunningham quipped.
“What if someone closes the hatch and we’re trapped down here?” Kevin said. “Or water could release from a tank and flood the system.”
“Son, you have quite an imagination.”
“The hatch is all but rusted permanently open,” Niles said. “But he could have a point about a cistern releasing water somewhere ahead.”
“Toughen up, both of you,” Cunningham snapped. “There’s no time for doubling back. The 10th Hussars have a head start on us, and we need to press on.”
Neither of them responded to Cunningham. Instead, Niles took the lead and headed down the side tunnel, and Kevin plodded along after them.
Chapter Ten
Later, Niles remained in the lead with Cunningham a step or two behind him. Although a similar pipe, it wasn’t as wide as the prior tunnel. The pipe seemed tighter, causing Kevin to trail further in the rear, so he couldn’t see much ahead.
They plugged along without talking, and the temperature grew colder. Kevin noticed moist clouds puf
fing from his face. He buttoned his wool jacket, but it did little to ward off the dampness.
Niles stopped. He reached out and touched the side of the pipe.
“We’re under the channel,” he said.
Kevin felt condensation on the cold, steel pipe. He thought about the seawater above them and suddenly felt claustrophobic. The lantern cast light upon the ceiling of the tunnel. He noticed seams in the pipe every six meters. The seams were from sections of piping welded together to form a long drain line. Water dripped from the seams. Merely condensation, but he gulped, wondering just how much saturated earth separated the pipe from the floor of the channel.
They slugged further through the pipe. Kevin breathed hard; his legs grew weary from the excursion. Niles stepped forward and suddenly dropped down a foot. A loud splash, and the lantern wavered.
Light cast upon the walls shimmered about, revealing aged brick. Cunningham froze. Niles teetered forward. For a moment, it seemed like Niles would crash into an older tunnel wall. He grasped wires running along the side of the old tunnel and steadied himself.
“Blazes, are you all right, man?” said Cunningham.
“Watch your step,” Niles responded. “Almost lost it there.”
The lantern flickered. Niles stood knee-deep in murky water; he held the lantern as they looked around. The steel pipe came to an abrupt end and then picked up with a brick tunnel. The flooring of the old tunnel rest only a foot below the bottom of the pipe.
“What a nasty tunnel,” Cunningham said.
“Most dreadful,” Niles agreed. “This water is knee-high and likely pestiferous.”
“Nothing like Calcutta,” Cunningham boasted. “We’ll be just fine.”
After the lantern settled, the view of the tunnel became clearer. Brick catacombs lay ahead. The wires Niles held didn’t run into the steel pipe. Another brick passageway led off to the side and the wires followed it.
“Which way do you want to go?” Niles asked Cunningham.
Cunningham stroked his chin and squinted down both tunnels. “Straight ahead,” he said. “The beasts were likely moving at a good clip, and wouldn’t have made an abrupt right angle turn.”
“Good thinking,” Niles said. “The Great Tracker.”
“Great Hunter,” Cunningham corrected. “Despise the term ‘tracker’ that some colonists use to describe our work. Let’s move along now.”
Then, Cunningham stepped into the brick tunnel, plunging into the water. He sunk enough that the Australian safari hat dropped below the height of Kevin’s chest. Even being aware of the drop, Cunningham seemed surprised by the extent of the murky decent, wobbling slightly.
Filthy water rippled around Cunningham’s knees. The Great Hunter and Niles stood submerged in the water. The rifle barrels would sink below the surface if Kevin stepped off the edge.
“When I step down,” Kevin said, “the rifles are going to plunge into the water.”
“Blazes, we can’t have that happen.”
“What do you want to do about it?” Niles said.
“Hand the Weatherby to me,” Cunningham instructed, turning toward Kevin with his hands reaching out.
Kevin slipped the rifle from his shoulder and handed it to Cunningham.
“Hand the other one to Niles,” Cunningham said.
Niles took the Gibbs. Relieved of the burden, Kevin took a deep breath and prepared to descend into the brick tunnel. He looked at the squalid water and reluctantly stepped down, submerging more than he had expected, despite watching Niles and Cunningham.
As he sunk into the water, Kevin lost balance and tilted forward. He extended an arm and braced himself on Cunningham’s girth. This enabled Kevin to quickly right himself.
“Watch it there, lad,” Cunningham said. “You might push me over and get the Weatherby wet.”
“Whatever you do,” Niles lectured, “don’t mess up the Weatherby.”
“Cares more about that rifle than himself,” Kevin said. “The water is likely contaminated, too.”
“You’ve got it right,” Niles chuckled.
“Ready to move along?” Cunningham interjected.
“All set now,” Kevin said.
“Enough chatting,” Cunningham snapped. “Let’s move along then.”
Niles handed the rifle back to Kevin. He obviously noted the surprised look on Kevin’s face. “Well, you can’t expect me to carry the lantern and the rifle.”
“You’re a gun bearer,” Cunningham snapped. “Bear the bloody rifle.”
Plying their way through the knee-deep water, the pace was even slower than before. Kevin’s arms tired quickly from toting the Gibbs. Stepping through the squalid water was like walking in cement shoes. Kevin felt as though he’d traded the burden of lugging two rifles for a different hardship, which drained his stamina and wearied his legs.
This passageway seemed to be antiquated, constructed of old-fashioned clay bricks and thick mortar that cured ages ago. Kevin wondered if moisture had begun to weaken the cement. A wall could cave in or the roof might collapse. Scraping the ceiling with a fingernail, the mortar felt coarse and hard. He inspected the walls and got the same result.
Fear of a collapse slipped away. Sloshing through the water caused Kevin’s mind to wander. His thoughts turned to dysentery from breathing the moist air. He also suspected that sewage mixed into the storm-water overflow during severe weather.
They plugged along for a bit, making dismal progress, but pressed steadily ahead. Moving in silence, the thought of rats began to consume Kevin. He pushed the fear away, thinking that Niles and Cunningham would encounter them first. Worse than a concern over rats, he had an underlying fear of the Rhino-pards. They could lunge from a side passageway before being detected, wreaking havoc without time to react. He could still get mauled.
Kevin found himself thinking ‘toughen up’ to help squelch his fears. The depth of the water eventually lessened, and they began to push ahead faster. Cunningham and Kevin held the rifles at port arms to avoid getting them wet. Making good progress, Kevin focused on his footing and keeping pace. Then Niles came to a halt.
Peering between the hunters, Kevin noticed a fork in the tunnels.
“Which way do you want to go?” Niles said.
“The one to the left,” Cunningham replied without hesitation.
“You can’t seriously think that we have a chance of accurately tracking them now.”
“Indeed, I do,” Cunningham scoffed. “To the left, man.”
Niles glanced at both passageways. He shook his head. Neither was discernible from the other, and Kevin suspected that Niles thought the same.
“Suit yourself,” Niles said, heading down the tunnel to the left.
The lantern swung from his abrupt turn into the dark passage. It seemed even blacker than before. Nowhere along their sojourn had any daylight entered the tunnels. Kevin noticed that the dark brick walls didn’t reflect light as the metal pipe had done previously.
Further away from the fork, the water level decreased until it was ankle high. Cunningham turned and handed the Weatherby to Kevin.
“Shoulder the rifles, lad.”
“Sure thing.”
Kevin slung each rifle over a shoulder with the barrels facing down. By the time he finished harnessing his load, the hunters were well ahead of him.
He sloshed along in haste, leaning forward with his thumbs looped around the slings to steady the rifles. As Kevin closed the distance, Niles stopped unexpectedly. Cunningham collided into him. The lantern swung back and forth.
And then Kevin plowed into Cunningham.
The two hunters stood frozen and mute. Cunningham didn’t quip about Kevin bumping into him. Another moment and they still didn’t move. Standing there piled on top of each other, Kevin didn’t dare move either.
Cunningham’s broad shoulders and wide-brimmed hat prevented Kevin from peeking over them. He couldn’t discern why they’d stopped.
The silence made him think t
hat a passage or hatch lay ahead.
A mild thrashing in the water a meter in front of Niles changed his mind. There was something down here with them.
Kevin snooped under Cunningham’s elbow, expecting to see rats.
There was a shredded torso strewn in the putrid water. A saturated lavender dress with a ruffled collar torn to bits, splattered in blood. The extremities were severed in rough, jagged tears. Meat was cleaved from the bone. Even the head was missing.
An immense claw pressed the torso into the floor of the tunnel, protectively. Water bubbled up around the paw. Kevin felt a shiver run down his spine. Two large golden cat eyes shimmered at them from the darkness. The outline of a large leopard head shone in the refracting glow of the lantern. A dense horn protruded from its snout.
Its thick neck tapered out to the colossal body of a rhinoceros. Protective skin covered the massive beast resembling menacing armor-plating. The skin folded at the joints of muscular hind legs and shoulders.
The tracking team remained frozen in silence. Waiting for the beast to make a move, the hunters stood a meter away, vulnerable. Yellow eyes fixated upon them, stern and intelligent, never wavering in the lamplight.
Thrashing in the water behind the beast caused it to look away. The other Rhino-pard had come up behind it.
“Rifle,” Cunningham whispered.
Kevin slowly slipped the Weatherby from his shoulder.
Sensing movement in the tunnel, the beast turned back to them. Cunningham had the rifle at port arms but hesitated shouldering it.
The beast stomped on the bloody torso, shook its head ferociously, and then bared huge fangs, dripping with saliva. Fur around its mouth was smeared crimson from feasting upon the dead woman.
Behind the beast, the other Rhino-pard seemed agitated, slamming into the tunnel walls. A few bricks popped loose, and the two immense creatures bucked into each other. Kevin feared they would stampede through the tunnel, crushing the entire tracking team.
Turning its head, the beast let out a deep cat-like hiss at its companion. Cunningham worked the bolt. A metallic echo rang through the tunnel. The creature snapped back to them, eyeing the tracking party suspiciously. Cunningham raised the rifle. The Rhino-pard sniffed the dank air, and then snatched up the torso in its teeth and wheeled around in the narrow tunnel. The beasts’ shoulders and haunches pounded into the brick walls.
Clockwork Universe Page 6
