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TWELVE

Blaze

Stale air rushes out, carrying the musty scent of long-forgotten spaces. It’s a smell that speaks of darkness, secrets, and escape.

“Go, go, go!” I roar, my voice hoarse from shouting. The Rufi and I lay down suppressing fire, creating a wall of lead between our group and the encroaching tangos.

We pile in, the darkness swallowing us whole like some great beast. The sudden absence of light is disorienting, amplifying every other sense. The sounds of battle fade, replaced by ragged breathing and soft whimpers. I’m the last one through, muscles straining as I pull the hatch closed behind me. The clang reverberates through the tunnel, final and ominous.

With the hatch shut, we’re plunged into darkness. For a moment, there’s nothing but ragged breathing and the rapid thudding of our hearts. The air is thick, stagnant, pressing against us like a living thing.

Then, with a soft whir, the Rufi unit comes to life. A pale blue glow emanates from its body, pushing back the darkness. The tunnel takes shape around us in its eerie light, a nightmare made real.

The walls glisten with some unidentifiable slime, the moisture catching the light and creating an illusion of movement in our peripheral vision. The floor beneath our feet is treacherous, a toxic blend of broken concrete and years of accumulated filth.

Each step produces a sickening squelch, amplified in the confined space.

The smell hits us like a physical force—a noxious cocktail of decay, mold, and something far worse. It’s the kind of stench that coats the inside of your nose and mouth, making each breath a struggle against the urge to gag.

In the Rufi’s spectral glow, the toll of our ordeal is etched on every face. Exhaustion lines Jon’s features as he struggles under Daniel’s weight. The children huddle close to Ember, their eyes wide with a terror beyond their years. Ember stands tall, but there’s the slightest tremor in her hands, the way her gaze darts from shadow to shadow.

A skittering sound echoes from somewhere in the darkness ahead. One of the children lets out a choked sob, quickly muffled. The noise seems to hang in the air, a beacon to whatever lurks in the gloom.

Water drips in the distance, a steady plink-plink-plink that makes the silence between each drop even more oppressive. It’s a countdown, to what, I don’t know, but every instinct screams that we need to move and exit this subterranean hell before it swallows us whole.

“Now what?” Jon’s voice is tight with exhaustion. Daniel’s unconscious form slumps against him, a dead weight threatening to drag them both down.

I look at Ember, seeing the weight of memory in her eyes. This place holds ghosts for her; that much is clear, but as she meets my gaze, I see something else—a core of steel that matches my own. She’s our best shot at getting out alive, and we both know it.

She takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. “We keep moving. There’s an exit that leads to the river. If we can make it there…”

I nod, decision made. “Lead on.”

We plunge deeper into the tunnel. Rufi’s pale blue light casts grotesque shadows on the walls. The air is thick and oppressive, laden with the stench of decay and something else—something older and more primal.

Every breath feels like a struggle.

The sound of dripping water echoes ominously, a staccato rhythm punctuated by our labored breathing and the squishing beneath our feet on the grime-covered floor. One of the children stumbles, a choked sob escaping her lips. The noise seems to reverberate endlessly, and I tense, half-expecting it to bring our pursuers down on us.

I key my comm, hoping against hope for a signal. “Delta-One, this is Delta-Five. We’re cut off, heading for alternate extraction. Three kids, two adults, plus packages. Do you copy?”

Static crackles in my ear, harsh and grating. Then, faintly, Jenny’s voice breaks through, distorted and fragmented. “Copy… Five. Get… safe. We’ll… tracking.”

The comm goes dead with a final burst of static. The silence that follows is deafening. We’re on our own.

Ember’s voice, low and urgent, pulls me back to the present. “This way. Watch your step—there’s debris everywhere.”

I fall behind her, hyperaware of every sound and shadow. The Rufi unit takes up the rear. Its sensors sweep back and forth, searching for threats both seen and unseen while its lamp illuminates the way ahead.

We move in a tense silence, broken only by the occasional whimper from the children or a pained groan from Daniel. Jon’s breathing is labored. The air grows thicker with each step, heavy with moisture and the crushing weight of earth above us.

A skittering sound from the darkness ahead freezes us in our tracks. Rats? Or something worse? The children press closer to Ember, their fear palpable. I tighten my grip on my rifle, every nerve on high alert.

My mind races, cataloging our situation. Two combat-effective adults. One severely injured prep school kid. Three terrified kids. And Ember—a wildcard, but possibly our best asset right now. Our resources are limited, and our options are few, but giving up isn’t one of them.

The tunnel stretches endlessly before us, each turn and twist potentially leading to salvation or doom. The only certainty is the need to keep moving and stay ahead of the dangers behind and ahead.

Weapons check: My primary has half a mag left. My sidearm is full. I have two flashbangs and one smoke grenade. It’s not great, but it’ll have to do.

A scuffling sound ahead brings us to a halt. Ember freezes, eyes wide in the Rufi’s blue glow.

“What is it?” I whisper, scanning the darkness ahead.

She shakes her head, voice barely audible. “Probably rats. But—there used to be other things down here. People, sometimes. Desperate people.”

The implications hang in the air, unspoken. I nod, understanding. “Can you guide us?”

“Yes.”

We press on, every sense straining for danger. The tunnel branches split and rejoin. Without Ember, we’d be hopelessly lost in minutes.

Time loses meaning in the darkness. It could be minutes or hours before Ember calls another halt.

“There’s a junction ahead.” Her voice is strained. “Left leads deeper into the complex. Right should take us toward the river.”

“Should?” Jon asks, skepticism evident even through his exhaustion.

Ember’s shoulders slump. “It’s been years. Things might have changed. Collapses blocking our way. I can’t be certain.”

I weigh our options. Deeper into the complex means potential safety but also the risk of getting cornered. The river offers a chance at extraction but exposes us to potential pursuit.

“We head for the river,” I decide. “Delta-One will be looking for us there.”

We turn right at the junction. The tunnel narrows, forcing us into a single file. The air grows cooler, hints of a breeze suggesting we’re nearing the outside.

Suddenly, Ember stumbles. I reach out, steadying her. Her skin is clammy under my hand, trembling evident even through her clothes.

“You okay?” I ask, concern overriding protocol.

She nods, but her eyes are distant, haunted. “Just—memories. This place …”

I squeeze her shoulder gently. “Hey. Look at me. You’re getting us out of here. You’re saving lives.”

Something shifts in her gaze—a flicker of strength, of determination. She straightens, squaring her shoulders. “You’re right. Let’s keep moving.”

We push on. The tunnel begins to slope upward, the air growing fresher with each step. Hope kindles in my chest.

Then, disaster.

A rumble shakes the tunnel, raining dust and small debris down. The children scream, and Daniel moans in pain.

“Cave in!” Jon shouts. “Move, move, move!”

We sprint forward, adrenaline overriding exhaustion. The rumbling intensifies, the very earth seeming to groan around us.

Light appears ahead—a circular opening, starlight visible beyond. Freedom. Safety. Just a few more yards…

A massive crash behind us. I risk a glance back. The tunnel is collapsing, a wave of destruction racing toward us.

“Go!” I roar, shoving Ember and the children ahead of me. Jon stumbles, Daniel’s weight threatening to drag him down. I grab his arm, hauling them both forward.

We burst out of the tunnel in a cloud of dust and debris. Cool night air hits my face, sweet as salvation.

The opening deposits us on a narrow ledge above the river. Sheer concrete walls rise on either side—remnants of old flood control measures. The water churns below, dark and forbidding.

Behind us, the tunnel entrance collapses with a final, thunderous roar. Our escape route is sealed.

I scan our surroundings, mind racing. We’re exposed here, silhouetted against the night sky. Easy targets if the Night Pack managed to follow us.