Jovan's Gaze

Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

The sewers of our fair capitol were anything but fair. Underground rivers of sludge, and worse, all flowing south through canals, until they emptied into the sea. I had once pursued an escapee from the palace prison into those underground passages. The horrors of the place, the smell and the sight of it, stuck in my nose for days, weeks it seemed. An entire city's disease and filth.

Here though, there was none of that. Massive, closed pipes ran the length of these sewers, with markings indicating what flowed within. The pipes were closed, thankfully. The place was hardly a flower garden, however. There was the stench of rats, the universal denizen of any dark place. I could hear the odd squeak as they scurried away from me. There was the smell of rot, as rain washed leaves and refuse down into these closed-in spaces. Obviously, these sewers were kept clean, but the stale smell remained, and combined with the dim, artificial light, the tunnels seemed to press down upon me. Still, compared to the horror of the last sewer I had been in, there was little to complain about.

The walls were built of old brick, long since worn by water and time. Metal supports had been added, seemingly much later, likely to help with the weight of the buildings above. Computer screens were set into the walls every so often, but none of them were on. I touched one of them, but all it would tell me is that I did not have permission to access its controls. It also asked if I required assistance, which I suppose was intended for the lost, or those like the two vagabonds above.

Lights, small bulb-like things attached to the walls, dotted my route. They seemed to sense my passing, and activated as I came into view. I turned a corner into darkness, and a moment later, the lights slowly flickered to life. The odd bulb did not light up, but unlike the torchlight chase through my last sewer, this passage was lit well enough to manage.

The passages were narrow, perhaps enough for three men to move side by side. They were high enough for me to stand up straight, but just barely. The walls themselves felt smooth to the touch, slightly damp. I wondered how many centuries worth of trickling water it had taken to smooth them. Faded paint showed just how old this part of the sewer was. Centuries, it seemed.

In every way, this sewer was the opposite of the last one I had experienced. Perhaps more important than the sights or sounds of the two, there was one major difference. When I entered the sewers under the palace, I was in pursuit of an escaped criminal. Here, I was the one in flight. I was the hunted here, not the hunter.

I moved carefully. My rifle was ready, but in these narrow passages, I would hear an assailant long before I saw him. Still, I had long since learned the importance of being alert. My soldier's skills, so rarely used since the end of the war, seemed very much alive and ready for use. I suppose they never left me. I crept along, one foot quietly set in front of the other, stopping every few minutes to listen. I took long, slow breaths through my nose. It forced me to calm down, but also to hear everything.

Every sound became known, familiar. The rattle of objects in the pack slung over my shoulder, which I had not found the time to look at. The creaking of my right boot, which had taken the brunt of a shot. Thankfully, the pain had subsided to a dull pulse, and I was able to ignore it. The low, constant hum of the rifle, which became ever so slightly lower in pitch when I moved the settings down, higher when I shifted it up. Other than those sounds, and my own barely audible breathing, there was little to be heard.

Every so often, I would hear a rat's cry, or the rattling of a sewer cover above, as someone walked over it. Under streets, I would hear the rumbling of cars overhead. Beyond that, there was nothing. I wondered how many people I would find in these tunnels, people like the two men from the alley. Would there be more like them, men without homes? More to the point, would those men direct far more dangerous men down here?