Friday, June 24, 2005

Subway Ambush...Part 3

Her home was far larger than it appeared at first glance. It seemed that the entire basement of this building was choked with metal shelving units, piles of boxes and collections of various odds and ends. An entire wall seemed to be made of stacked and bundled newspapers, most them too yellow with age to even read anymore.

I had to step over or around a number of bookshelves that had obviously been knocked over in a struggle. There were trails of blood just about everywhere I looked. I located what looked to be her bedroom, which was little more than an alcove surrounded by yet more bookshelves stacked high with yet more knicknacks. Her actual bedding was shredded in the struggle, soaked in blood.

Just past her bedrom though, I noted that several footprints in the blood seemed to lead further into the warren of shelves. I began to follow the prints until they led me toward what seemed to be the middle of the basement. The prints quickly began to get fainter, but remained visible until they stopped right at what for appearances was a man-hole cover.

Now this is the point at which my dear friend Ravyn would have suggested I stop and somehow or another get ahold of some other folks to go with me. However this also the point at which my own curiosity began to overcome any small sense of caution that I have left in this existence.

So, I reached down and pried the lid up, using my fingers to pull up on the lip of the very heavy metal cover so that I could peer down into what was revealed.

The drop beneath the cover was steep, the whole area shrouded in darkness so deep that I had to pull out the flashlight and use it to illuminate the area. The beam of light showed a drop of about eight feet into another passageway below. I could make out a couple of bloody prints from where the killer had landed on all fours, a torn piece of bloody paper that must have come from above was also visible. So, I now knew which way the killer had gone.

I grabbed the radio and tried to call out to Murphy, but no one answered. I shrugged to myself and muttered, “So much for backup.”

I slid the metal cover all the way off and then dropped it to clang loudly in the silence. I sat down on the edge, dangling my legs for moment before dropping down to the cement floor beneath.

I landed with a thud, flashlight in one hand, the other holding my usual collapsible baton. I had flicked it open in the drop, doing my best impression of an ever-so-cool comic book hero, and failing miserably.

The passageway was likely a remnant of some forgotten subterranean system in the cities distant past, as it was clearly abandoned long ago. There was a thick layer of damp dirt that coated the floor, easily revealing the two sets of tracks leading up to and away from the nearly rusted out ladder that led up to the manhole cover above. I have never been an outdoorsman, but Stevie Wonder could have followed these tracks. It also wasn’t hard to tell that these were more like claw marks than footprints.

I know, I know...with such a clearly marked trail, and such an obviously dangerous opponent, the smart thing would have been to go back up the ladder and grab some of those underpaid hero wannabes and make a party out of this affair. But would this blog be nearly so interesting if I had that kind of sense in the first place?

No, I didn’t think so. Shit, if I had half that much sense, I wouldn’t be a damn zombie and this would be another boring assed political blog. Who wants that?

So, I started following the tracks down the passageway, keeping to the right wall, just like my erstwhile prey. I followed those tracks for a good hundred feet before the first intersection occurred. Luckily, it was as dirty and unused as this passageway, so I was easily able to see where the critter turned to the right into this smaller, cozier hallway.

Now, instead open space, blank cement walls with the occassional ladder up, and echoing footsteps, I was faced with seemingly random sets of pipes and drains. I also noticed that every few feet I seemed to cross over a metal grate of some sort. This side passage also seemed to be angling downwards at a very slight angle.

The tracks were still visible where there was solid flooring, as were the spots of still fresh-looking blood where the creature had rubbed up agains one of the walls, or up against a set of pipes.

After another couple hundred feet of crawling over and around more and more of these damn pipes, I came to a spot where the grate on the floor had been violently ripped from the floor, leaving an openning that was easily large enough for a man-sized creature to jump down to the next level.

Using my little flashlight, I peered down into the darkness below one more time. This time I saw a thin stream of flowing water covering much of the floor. As I peered around, looking for where the critter might have gone to, I ducked my head down into the hole get a better view of things and pan the light. Unfortunately for me at that moment, our little friend happened to be waiting for me. I nearly jumped out my dead skin when I came face to face with the creature in this rather compromised position, but I didn’t have time to react that quickly...

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Uh huh, and you claim you have no testosterone left flowing through you? That's what makes you stoopid Rusty. But then according to Jasmine you've always thought you were Rambo, so what else can we expect from you?

Next time go grab a couple wannabees and use them as bait, sheesh, stick their heads into holes 1st.

:::Sends flaming astral 2x4 upside your head::: Let's see if this helps.

Agent Bones said...

Jasmine really said that about me huh?

:::Puffing out chest just a little bit:::

Well, maybe that testosterone hasn't quite worn off yet...Well, you'll see tomorrow though, if any of those other agents had been there, they would have been killed. I'd rather not have that on my conscience.

Watch those fireworks!

Anonymous said...

Deflate the chest, it wasn't a completment. More along the lines of not wanting to lose you again dear. She went on to say, "he may already be dead, but that doesn't mean he can't be torn to bits, let's see them put him back together then. Aunt Ravyn, you were right - Dead DON'T make you smart!!" She's learning fast Rusty. :::walks away giggling::

Oh and BTW the fireworks were purty!!