Beyond the Rubicon by John Peaseland

Author:John Peaseland [Peaseland, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-01-06T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve. The Pipe.

And so there we were, just six of us left. Jenna, her bald tattooed head beginning to sprout hair. Bram, more beard now than face, eyes staring unblinking. Neil, all brawn and not much brain. Clem, minus her leather gloves. Pernio, her nervous twitch more pronounced, her beaky nose testing the air for danger, and yours truly. We were told to bring our weapons, the ones we hadn’t left behind, but leave all our clothes (new stuff would be provided). We were to make our way to a room on this level, part of the base that had been used as a makeshift kitchen cum lounge. Once there we were to locate a sealed inspection hatch that led into a system of service tunnels. When I say tunnels, think of tubes just about wide enough to nearly get stuck in.

“Where’s this hatch,” growled Bram in his best stoker’s voice as he chucked a mop and bucket to one side, in what could easily have been the janitor’s storeroom. They clattered across the floor and I winced at the noise.

None of us had a flashlight and letting go a burst from the flamethrower wasn’t thought a good idea, even though I’d suggested it. We got down on hands and knees and after a time our eyesight got accustomed to the stygian gloom, the only light source leaching from the corridor via the kitchen. Finger ends eventually located an air tight trap door inlaid into the floor. Some cutlery from the kitchen was retrieved and we all had a go at chipping away at the seal. Half an hour later, sore fingers, a lot of curses, a couple of cuts, a coil of damaged rubber seal and we had the hatch lifted.

“I smell arse,” Jenna announced as she pushed me headfirst into the man-size tube on account that it was I that held the flamethrower. In theory, I did have the weapon of choice, but since I had to push it, gas tank and all ahead of me because of the limited space, I didn’t see what good it would do me if I met anything unpleasant. At least being first in was a concession to not having to endure the smelly nasal handshake that wafted from behind fear-ridden bodies.

I’m mildly agoraphobic (isn’t everyone?) and my skin dampened with a cloying mantle of dread at the thought of going further down this small dark tunnel - full of shit knew what. My bulky weapon clattered before me, announcing my every move; should the blob need to know!

As the rest of the crew entered the tunnel, I moved slowly forward allowing everybody to bunch up and then move off as one unit. Whispers of encouragement and then gasps as cold metal met bare flesh, served to scare the ‘bejesus’ out of me. Every sound was accompanied with ghostly acoustic anomalies that threw voices and noise in unaccountable directions. “Come on! Hurry Up,” I hissed, conscious of my ass, literally swinging in the breeze.

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