Deep Valve

The air inside the crawlway was freezing, smelling of rust and damp dirt.

Garrison dropped down into the dark opening first, his boots hitting the iron ladder below with a metallic ring. I followed immediately after him, my fingers gripping the icy rungs as the air above us in the kitchen grew thinner. My head was pounding, a sharp pressure building behind my eyes.

"Five more rungs," Garrison's voice came from the dark below. "Drop down, Valerie. I've got you."

I let go of the ladder, falling into the blackness. His massive arms caught me before I hit the stone floor, cushioning the impact against his chest armor. He set me down gently but kept one hand on my shoulder to keep me steady in the pitch-black.

A faint click echoed as he turned on his shoulder light. A narrow beam of white light cut through the dark, illuminating a long, low concrete tunnel lined with massive iron pipes. The walls were wet, water dripping from the joints into a narrow trench between our feet.

"This way," Garrison said, staying low to avoid the low-hanging structural beams.

We sprinted through the water, our boots splashing loudly against the concrete. The tunnel seemed to go on forever, branching off into smaller utility sectors that weren't marked on the main security maps.

"How far is the valve?" I panted, my throat feeling dry from the sudden temperature drop.

"At the end of this junction," he said, slowing down as the tunnel opened up into a wider, circular chamber.

In the center of the room sat a massive blue tank connected to four separate wheel valves.

Garrison lunged toward the largest wheel, grabbing the iron spokes with both hands. He threw his weight against it, his muscles straining as he tried to turn the rusted metal. The valve groaned, a high-pitched screech of metal against metal echoing through the chamber, but it didn't budge.

"It's seized," I said, stepping up next to him. I grabbed the opposite side of the wheel, adding my weight to his. "Together. On three."

"One," Garrison growled. "Two. Three!"

We shoved with everything we had. The rusted seal finally snapped with a loud bang that sounded like a gunshot. The wheel spun three full rotations to the right, followed by a rushing sound of water and fresh air surging through the overhead lines.

A beep echoed from a small control panel mounted on the side of the tank. The indicator light turned from a flashing red to a solid, calm green.

"The cabin is isolated," Garrison said, leaning his forehead against the iron tank as he caught his breath. His chest was heaving. "Thorne lost his leverage. He can't flush the upper level anymore."

"But he still has the laboratory controls," I reminded him, leaning against his shoulder. The heat of his skin was the only comfort in the dark room. "He can still release Cynthia into the main structure. Garrison, if she is what he says she is... an apex... she won't be stopped by a standard security door."

"She won't have to be," a soft, familiar voice whispered from the darkness of the tunnel we had just exited.

Garrison spun around, raising his rifle and clicking the safety off in a single fluid motion. The beam of his shoulder light cut through the gloom, focusing on the narrow entrance of the pipe corridor.

Cynthia stood in the archway.

She wasn't wearing the silk dress anymore. She wore a dark, form-fitting jumpsuit she must have taken from Thorne's lab. Her skin was deathly pale, almost blue under the white light, and the dark crimson of her eyes glowed like embers in the dark. But she wasn't twitching like the miners. She stood perfectly straight, her head tilted slightly to the side as she looked at us.

"Hello, sister," Cynthia said. Her voice sounded clear, but there was a strange, layered vibration beneath it, as if two people were speaking at the exact same time. "Did you really think a manual valve would keep me out? I don't need the ventilation system to find you. I can smell your blood from three levels down."

"Stay back, Cynthia," Garrison said, his finger tightening on the trigger of his rifle. "I killed you once. I have no problem doing it again."

Cynthia let out a soft, melodic laugh that sent a shudder through my bones.

"You didn't kill me, Garrison. You just freed me from that pathetic, weak heart my father always complained about. Look at me now. I don't need medicine or rations. I am the future of this world."

"You are a monster," I said, stepping out from behind Garrison's shoulder.

Cynthia's eyes locked onto mine as the smile vanished from her pale face, replaced by a look of ancient, burning jealousy.

"I am what you always wanted to be, Valerie. The strong one. The one who survives. And now, I am going to take exactly what you thought you stole from me."

She stepped forward, her movement so fast the human eye could barely track it.