Underground

[Bladed_Crescent]

Author's notes: Just a quick little vignette I whipped up, finishing up a project that's been on hiatus for too long.

This story takes place in the same universe as my other work, Rabbits.

All cities are built up on top of existing construction and tunnels. Waterways, sewage drains, older subway lines abandoned but still having some semblance of power. Forgotten by everyone except their inhabitants - the lost, the neglected... and the hungry.

There are things that dwell in the shadows and there are tales of them, passed down by a fortunate few. This is one such story.

Billy B’s Tale:

“You’ll want to talk to Billy B.”

~

“Finally made your way around t’ me, I see. Naw, I don’t mind. Take yo’ time. Honest. You mind if I smoke? Thanks. So, Green’s been telling you about the underground, I guess. Ever since you saw Tunnel Rat justice, I’m guessin’ you’ve had some questions. Pretty white pro-fess-or lookin’ for that doc-to-rate, I heard. Doin’ a piece on the social development of the underprivileged inner-city gangers and bangers. Thass cool. Naw, I mean it. Ain’t nobody give two shits about us ‘less we’re makin’ things impolitic for the fuckers uptown. You came down here – that gives you some cred wit’ me. You still a lucky white bitch who ain’t never had to fight for anything in her whole goddamn life, but you gots some cred.

“But you ain’t want to hear about this. Not after we sent Joey Q for his walk, I figger. I s’pose that’d be interestin’ enough for you on its own, but you want more, right? You want t’ know about the deeps. Well, I’m your man. Heh. Could be, anyways.

“I ‘spect ol’ Marv told you about what we got below the streets, right? First, just the junkies. Hobos ‘n’ addicts nobody gives a crap about. They’re all right. Got their own crazies, but they leave bygones be bygones, long as you don’t fuck with ‘em. The Rats get on well wit’ most of ‘em. They’re what all you uptown fuckers think about, if you think about us here at all. But there’s more. You know that by now, don’tcha? Heh, yeah.

“This city – hell, all the big cities – are built up on their own fuckin’ bones, right? Sewers that ran dry decades ago, subways that got re-routed or were never hooked up, building ruins ‘n other shit. Green thinks he’s all educated, so he’s prob’ly given you the skinny on all that. Anyways, under the hobos we gots the lurkers. Not really under – it ain’t all nice and neat and stratified, but it’ll paint the picture nice ‘n fucking bright.

“Lurkers are the crazies. The bad hobos – the scary motherfuckers. Lost they minds, off they meds – whatever. They don’t hang out with the rest. Usually prey on ‘em. Violent repeat offenders as The Man might call ‘em. You don’t usually see ‘em topside, ‘cause they like to stay quiet. Nobody gives two shits when some bum doesn’t show up on his favourite corner, or when a crackhead ho disappears, so the lurkers get to keep doin’ what they do without the rest of the world ever findin’ out.

“Past the lurkers, you get the muties. Yeah, exactly – mutants. Don’t expect no laser beams comin’ outta they eyes or shit, though. They’ve lived in the deeps for generations. Older the city, the more of ‘em you’d have. Families that went below and never really came back up. See, all that shit that goes through the drains and sewers? All those PCBS and trans-fats and the rest of all that shit? They been soakin’ it up for years. Even longer for some. Tumours, birth defects, cancer – you name it, they got it. But they survive down there.

“Green musta told you this, right? They only come up to nab street kids to keep their families goin’. Maybe throw in some new breedin’ stock. Mostly, they’re harmless. Some of ‘em like the long pork, but most stay outta your way. Less you get too close to where they’re campin’.

“But you don’t wanna hear about lurkers or muties. Not yet. You want to know what grabbed poor ol’Joey Q when he took his Walk, right? The rest of the Rats ain’t never seen one of ‘them’. No one has. Heh. No one but your boy Billy B here.

“Yeah, let’s get to them.

“Muties and lurkers don’t go into their territories. They know better, but us topsiders – we’re so fuckin’ smart, aren’t we? Ain’t no ghosts and goblins, no. We’s past all that shit. Got ourselves ed-u-ca-ted that we don’t lissen to no fuckin’ scare stories. We big, we bad, we got our pieces and it’s the fuckin’ spooks that better fuckin’ watch they backs, you know what I’m saying?

“Naw, you don’t. Not yet. Heh.

“So, I ‘spect you know all about ‘Operation Thunderclap’. Bullshit name the po-pos came up with when they wanted to sweep up the Colombians. Fuckers were gettin’ too big for their britches and City Fuckin’ Hall wanted to teach ‘em a lesson, right? Cartels were on the run and the cops were out for blood. No fuckin’ car bomb was bad enough, no bribe big enough, no hired gang-bangers tough enough and the cops were just rollin’ right through ‘em. Been the first time I seen the Colombians actually scared o’ the police in this city. They were gettin’ squeezed like a fuckin’ python’s pig.

“This was just after I’d joined the Tunnel Rats, been all initiated ‘n shit. I was big, I was bad, I had my piece and it was everyone else that needed to look out. I heard a rumour that one of the Colombians – one of a big boss’s lieutenants – was about ten seconds from joinin’ his mates in a cell. This was pretty fuckin’ bad news, since even their mob lawyers weren’t helpin’ so much. Fuck, a few of ‘em needed lawyers of their own! Now this guy, he had some money. Lot o’ fuckin’ money, actually. He wanted it waitin’ for him when he got out and he didn’t trust the number crunchers to hide it, since part a’ Thunderclap was siccin’ the IRS and every damn fed bean-counter on the cartels, freezin’ they accounts. He figured if the cops didn’t get it, his own people would just help themselves an’ leave him holding the bag.

“So he got a few of his most loyal boys to take the cash and stash it somewhere. Nice an’ deep and dark, where no one would think t’ look or be able to find and it’d be waiting for him to just stroll down an’ grab. Bit crazy, but you gotta remember how fuckin’ desperate the Colombians were. They’d tried weirder shit.

“Unfortunately for him, secrets gotta way of gettin’ out. I heard this rumour and figgered it’s the big payday, but I’d need some help. I got a few of my homies from the Rats – Arnie, Q-ball and Jingles – interested in a 4-way split. They’d been in the gang longer than me and gave me a whole buncha bullshit about the deeps, but the idea of that cash and being called fuckin’ cowards got me the hook I needed and we was off.

“‘course, nothin’ could ever be easy, right?

“We’d made it pretty deep when we ran into some o the 7th Street Blues. They were lookin’ for the same payday as we was, and didn’t feel like sharin’. Course, neither did I and we got a little heated. There was more Blues than Rats too, so we had to make a dash. Not what I wanted, since I figgered... blues, man. Shoulda been pushovers. I mean, the Rats aren’t Crips or Vice Lords, but we got a decent rep o’ our, you know what I’m sayin’? Blues, man. These musta had bigger stones than the usual 7th street pussies they recruit. So we had to rabbit. Those chuckleheads I was with... sayin’ they knew those tunnels. Yeah fuckin’ right. We got lost. Motherfuckin’ lost, you believe that?

“We were lost, and those damned Blues were gettin’ closer to my fuckin’ payday! You’re damn right I was pissed, but couldn’t pick a fight ‘til we got back on track.”

“Yeah, so we was just tryin’ to find our way outta there, man. It was dark as fuckall, man. Couldn’t see worth shit; just had to pick a light in the distance and hope you were headin’ the right way. Now, I was still pretty steamed, but I was keepin’ it together.

“I had my piece and my ginsu, so any motherfuckers try to mess me up, even in the dark - they gonna get some of theirs, you know what I’m saying? But Arnie, Q-ball and Jingles, man - they was freakin’ the fuck out, man. I’m tryin’ to get us back after some dead presidents and those motherfuckers were worried about ghosts ‘n’ shit. And then Arnie - he’s got this light out, shining it over the walls and I’m ‘you had that shit this whole time, you dumb fucker? Why the fuck were we runnin’ around in the dark after Jingles dropped his, then?’ Fuckin’ Arnie, man. Fuckin’ Arnie.

“We were still lost, but at least we were a better kind of lost, you know what I’m sayin’? Anyways, we’re getting back to a main tunnel when the three of ‘em just freeze up like some kinda fucking deer. Arnie’s got the light shining on some fucked-up tag on the walls. Jingles is all ‘oh man oh man oh man’ and Q-ball had his fucking St. Christopher out, prayin’ to that fuckin’ piece o’ tin.

“So anyways, Arnie starts shining the light back the way we’d come, where we was headed and just keeps saying. ‘Where’s the border? Did we leave it? Are we heading into it? Which way is it marking?’ Now, I been around. I seen gangs mark their turf before and I’m starting to think that the Tunnel Rats’re buncha limp-wristed pussies. I mean, that fucking sign’d been there for years, looked like.

“What’d it look like? You’d think it’d be some fucked-up thing like a skull, or some other shit, right? Nope. Just lines’n squiggles. But you find scarier lines ‘n’ squiggles anywhere on this fucking planet, you fucking let me know, right?”

“I thought I was going to have to bust a head or two to get those fuckers moving. They was almost pissing themselves over fuckin’ ghosts ‘n’ goblins, man. Fucking ghosts, right? Ain’t nothing down there but some fucked-in-the-head junkies playing with fuckin’ tags and it’s enough to shake these big, bad Tunnel Rats. I started callin’ ‘em every name in the fucking book and then started writin’ my own, so I didn’t hear it at first. These little pop-pop-pop sounds coming up from the tunnels. I know what that shit was, man. Someone busting a cap. I figured the Blues had run into someone else tryin’ to get my fuckin’ money, or they’d already got it and were arguin’ about fair shares.

“No way t’tell where it was coming from - those tunnels mess sound up. What’d Jimmy call it? Acoustics or some shit like that. Anyways, the boys heard that sound. It was plenty far down, sounded like. Jingles figured it was coming from behind us, which was enough motivation the rest needed to get the lead out, so I wasn’t complaining.

“Finally got back to a fuckin’ main tunnel. Not the one we’d headed down on, but it was parallel to it. I figured we’d head down that, hit the stash that way. And if the Blues’d got it, they wouldn’t be expecting us to come up behind them. Boom. Sounds like a good fuckin’ plan, right? Yeah, I’m a dumb motherfucker.

“We’re heading further into the deeps now and the boys are freakin’ again. There’s more tags on the wall, only this time they ain’t just lines ‘n’ squiggles and shit. Skulls and shit now. Q-ball’s talkin’, saying that these are the number of people they’ve killed. I’m not havin’ that shit; plenty of fuckers bragged to me about how many men they killed and I’m still here, right?

“Right… yeah. So… so, yeah, like I said – I’m one dumb motherfucker. We kept headin’ down. The boys weren’t complaining no more. I thought it was ‘cause they’d realized I wasn’t down with their supernatural shit and ain’t gonna fuckin’ deal with that shit no more. ‘stead, they realized that they were already in shit creek; might as well try to paddle. ‘sides. If you run, they chase you.

“I was feeling it, y’know. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was feelin’ it. Something in the air, maybe. It felt like I was bein’ watched. I told myself it was ‘cause someone had written ‘they are watching’ on one of the fuckin’ walls. More lurker shit, I figured. But I don’t mind telling you, lady - I was half-ready to bolt right then.

“I don’t care if you put that in your report. And if some motherfuckers think they can score points by callin’ me a coward or some shit ‘cause of this - they ain’t been in the deeps. You been in the deeps, you ain’t ever callin’ someone a coward for fuckin’ running from a noise. You ain’t seen ‘em. You ain’t seen The Room.”

“But, I was the big, bad Billy B. I wasn’t gonna run from no fuckin’ lurker scribbles and weird feelings. I was after the payday, man. Colombian drug money, stashed in the deeps and waiting to be liberated, man. Waitin’ for me. We kept goin’. The feeling got even worse the deeper we went. Even in the spots with the lights on, you could feel that they weren’t safe. That it was only an illusion. Maybe put there just so’s you’d think it was safe, that you’d go to ‘em. I can buy that. Finally, we were off the trail, but I knew where we were. I hadn’t gotten real clear directions, y’see. That would’ve made things obvious… Even for me.

“Instead, I was lookin’ for one of the switching stations along the old lines. We found it, but not the way I was plannin’ on. I told ya, right? We went down the wrong tunnel, comin’ up around. I guess that’s why we found The Room. It was just off the main station. A staff room, maybe? I don’t fuckin’ know.

“The lights were barely working, casting this shitty, flickering blue light over everything. Shadows, man - the fuckin’ shadows. Couldn’t trust ‘em, but I didn’t pay any attention. Up through the door, I could see a huge fuckin’ dufflebag. Greenbacks were just stickin’ out of it, man. Suddenly, all those weird feelings didn’t mean a damn with that wad of cash in front of me.

“All I could do not to make a fuckin’ run for that bag. But y’know, I may be dumb, but I ain’t that dumb. Before I could take even one step, I got to wondering - why would a Colombian’s boys take all this time to hide this shit down here, and just leave it open, sitting on a fucking chair, neat as you please? Yeah, okay – it’s not like this place got a lot of fuckin’ foot traffic, but still.

“Turns out that that one fuckin’ rational thought was all I needed. I didn’t even realize what was in there with us. Jingles is back to his ‘oh man oh man oh man’ shit and Arnie and Q-ball are just staring. Bones, man. Fucking bones. Everywhere. Covering the motherfucking floor.

“They had desks lining the walls, and they were covered with fuckin’ skulls. Some of them were wearing colours, others had hardhats. Others had fuckin police caps on ‘em. I was in a God-damned trophy room. Suddenly all the cracks I’d made weren’t so funny. And there was that bag of money, sitting in God-damn plain view for anyone coming to the station to see.

“Now… now, I gotta wonder which of those skulls were the Colombian’s boys. Or even if there had been a Colombian at all and this wasn’t just pocket cash that’d been taken from all the bones in the room. Whispers comin’ up from down below, passed through homeless to motherfuckers dumb enough to go into the deeps, walk into their fuckin’ lair. They must’a been laughing at big, bad Billy B.

“I’d like t’ say I was just about to high-tail it. That woulda been the smart thing. But even as my brain was tellin’ me to get out, I was still eyeballin’ all those dead presidents. Didn’t seem like anyone was around; probably dealing with the Blues, I thought.

“I didn’t even hear her comin’. Least, I think it was a her. Right shape, right kinda hair. I think. I was still eyeballin’ the dough, wonderin’ how to get to it without all the bones crackin’ under my feet. Then this... shadow just flows in through the door towards the cash. Nothin’ but darkness, silhouetted against the light.

“I just see these... eyes. Green, like a fuckin’ cat’s. I see its eyes and a lotta somethings white and gleaming in the light as she fuckin’ grins at me. Nothing but white and green against the black. I still see that fuckin’ face when I close my eyes.

“I don’t know what it is, but I’m not Billy B with his piece and ginsu. I’m a fuckin’ caveman starin’ at a wolf, a rabbit lookin’ at a motherfuckin’ snake. My brain’s screamin’ at me to run and for once, I listen. I just turn and bolt. The boys are right behind me, on my heels. I don’t remember how I got back to the surface, but Arnie, Q-Ball and Jingles - they din’t make it. I fuckin’ stumble out onto Platform 9, give a bunch of soccer moms and white-boy ad execs the sight of one scared-ass gang-banger who’s pissed his pants and barely able to breathe.

“I’m holding Arnie’s flashlight in one hand; it’s covered in blood, but I don’t remember grabbin’ it. I want to think I musta got it after he got snatched, only ‘cause I don’t want to think that I took it from him. From The Room up to Platform 9 it’s all a blank. I don’t know what happened to my boys, but they never showed up again.

“I try t’ tell myself that they just said ‘fuck this noise’ and hooked up with some other gang. But I know. I know that somewhere down in the deeps there’s a room with seven million dollars in cash and three more skulls sittin’ on a desk.

“Lemme have a drag here. Ah, that’s the shit. You want a cig? No? Okay. That’s the story. Of what I seen down in the tunnels. They’re down there, waiting. Watching. Watching us. Watching me. I seen it, out of the corners of my eyes sometimes. A flash of green in the shadows or a glint of white and I know that they ain’t forgotten about Billy B.

“The one that got away.”

[Darth Nostril]

Okay. That’s the story. Of what I seen down in the tunnels. They’re down there, waiting. Watching. Watching us. Watching me. I seen it, out of the corners of my eyes sometimes. A flash of green in the shadows or a glint of white and I know that they ain’t forgotten about Billy B.

“The one that got away.”

Except these things can mimic people, one night down some dark alley he's going to hear Arnie calling to him ....

[Teebs]

Excellent and enjoyable, just like your other stories. You're very good at giving me chills!

[Caiaphas]

This is possibly the best horror short story that I've ever read, period.

Given how many I've read, yours is pretty damn good. Congrats.

[LadyTevar]

oh yeah... that gives me chills. Great job BC

[Bladed_Crescent]

Thanks; glad you all enjoyed this latest offering.

I enjoy writing these predator stories. One of the main influences for this would have to The Adversary (previously known as The Dance of the Dwarves), a horror novel written from the perspective of an English botanist writing his journal as he conducts a horticultural survey deep in a South American jungle, close to a small village*. It's a very dry year, and the large, deep river that usually separates the village and its pastures from the nearby mountain and its jungles is now fordable for much of its length. People and livestock begin to disappear, as they every do year when the river runs dry. Initially suspecting a rogue jaguar or bandits, the botanist soon uncovers the disturbing truth of behind the killings and finds himself in a fight for his life as the "adversaries" have his scent... and his home is close to the river.

There are some very chilling scenes in the novel, such as where the botanist is exploring the mountain jungles and realizes that something is watching him, soon becoming aware that he's not just being watched - he's being stalked. Or his race to his homestead during a moonless night, being hunted by an "adversary" as he, in turn, hunts it, both of them blind and grasping in the dark, searching for each other by scent and sound alone.

Reading The Adversary kindled my fascination with something that might prey on humans and the ease at which a civilized person might shrug off such stories as nothing but legends and myths - until it's too late. I'm not sure where it was - maybe SDN itself? - but as I was writing the first draft of this story, I ran across someone's postings of an abandoned subway station. The lights were still on, there was garbage on the ground, graffiti on the wall, but no one had been there for a long time. I was always going to use the 'lost tunnels' for the story, but seeing that image just crystallized the idea.

*if you're going to read this book, don't read the introduction/prologue. Seriously, it ruins the whole story. I skipped it when I saw where it was headed, but then someone I loaned my book to went and blabbed about the prologue.

There's more in this universe that I haven't covered; for example, the 'Tunnel Rat justice/the Walk' that Billy B refers to...

The ganger in question Joey Q, killed another Tunnel Rat. He was given a choice: take the Walk, or be executed outright for it. Along with the researcher, the Tunnel Rats took him down to one of the lower levels - one of those abandoned tracks of rail. Staying in the light, they pointed out another platform off in the distance. If Joey Q could get to that, he was free. He'd no longer be welcome as a Tunnel Rat, but he wouldn't be executed. If he turned back, he'd be killed.

They gave him a flashlight and sent him off.

This puzzled the researcher because it was just a walk through a dark train tunnel. Creepy, but a slap on the wrist for murder. Watching the light recede into the distance, she wasn't sure what was supposed to happen - until that small gleam of illumination went flying, flailing back and forth and then laying still on the ground, shining back the way Joey Q had come. Then, a moment later, someone picked it back up and turned it off.

There is also the subway car that nobody rides after a certain time of night, a certain stop on the tracks that a different sort of commuter uses...