Blind Shaft

"And the only path to the core is through the mining lines," I said, looking toward the dark tunnel exit at the far end of the bridge.

The mountain road was completely blocked by the wreckage of the express car, leaving the abandoned subterranean tunnels as our only route.

"We don’t have a choice," Garrison said. He picked up the satellite communicator, checking the digital battery gauge. "The signal is dead out here in the storm, but the internal compass is still tracking the sector coordinates. We follow the tracks until the main shaft splits."

He reached out, his large hand wrapping around my wrist. His grip was warm, cutting through the freezing chill of the canyon wind. "We stay close, Valerie. The mining lines are deeper than the sanctuary tunnels. If we get separated in the dark, you don’t look for me. You just keep moving toward the grid."

"I am not leaving you behind, Garrison," I said, staring directly into his eyes. "We started this together in the penthouse. We finish it at the core."

A dark, dangerous smile touched his lips for a fraction of a second before his military mask slid back into place. "Then let’s go."

The silence inside the mining line was absolute, broken only by the dripping of water from the timber roof supports.

We had been walking for nearly three hours, using the low-intensity green light of Garrison’s watch to follow the rusted iron rails deeper into the mountain core. The air here was stagnant, smelling of old sulfur and wet clay, but it was clear of the red fog. The upper mountain seals were still maintaining the interior pressure.

"Stop," Garrison whispered, his hand instantly flat against my chest to bring me to a halt.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. "What is it?"

"Listen," he murmured, his head tilted toward the darkness of a side junction twenty yards ahead.

A low, scraping sound echoed down the shaft. It wasn’t the sound of running water or shifting rock. It was the distinct friction of elongated fingernails dragging across the rough stone walls. A wet, clicking noise followed, a rapid vibration that sounded like a massive insect searching for a trail.

"Miners," I whispered, my hand reaching for the scissors in my pocket.

"Worse," Garrison said, his voice barely a breath against my ear. "The miners who stayed down here during the initial breach were exposed to the concentrated core gases. They lost their eyesight within the first twelve hours. Their auditory nerves are over-developed. They hunt by the sound of your heartbeat."

The clicking grew louder, closer. A silhouette emerged from the side junction, moving on all fours with jerky, unnatural twitches. The creature wore the tattered remnants of a leather mining apron, but its face was completely smooth, the eye sockets covered by pale scar tissue that had grown over the lids. Its ears were enlarged, the cartilage torn and bleeding as it turned its head from side to side, listening to the dark.

Garrison slowly reached down to his hip, his fingers closing around the handle of his sidearm. He didn’t draw it. The sound of the holster snap would be enough to trigger an immediate charge.

The blind creature stopped ten feet from us. Its nostrils flared, catching the scent of the bleach and antiseptic still lingering on my jacket. It let out a low, vibrating hiss, its jaw opening wide to reveal rows of jagged, broken teeth.

Suddenly, a bright white beam of light cut through the dark tunnel from the main shaft behind us.

"Freeze! Military defectors! Drop your weapons!" a harsh voice shouted through a megaphone.

The blind creature shrieked at the sudden, deafening noise, launching itself toward the source of the sound. A loud burst of automatic gunfire tore through the tunnel, the bright muzzle flashes illuminating four soldiers dressed in non-regulation camouflage gear, their faces covered by ballistic visors.

The blind beast hit the stone floor dead, its chest riddled with high-caliber rounds.

"Commander Vance," the lead soldier said, stepping forward with his rifle raised toward Garrison’s chest. He pulled off his visor, revealing a jagged scar that ran from his ear to his chin. "We’ve been tracking your satellite signal since you cleared the bridge. General Vance is dead, which means you are the highest-ranking officer left in the sector. You are coming with us."

Garrison didn’t lower his hands, but his eyes locked onto the soldier’s collar insignia. "Squad Leader Miller. You deserted the eastern wall three days ago. You have no authority here."

"The old authority is gone, Commander," Miller smiled, his men moving to surround us in the narrow tunnel. "We found the secondary storage caches at the summit. We know about the capital depot countdown. And we are going to use those automated valves to negotiate our own passage out of this district."