Ethusus - Warrior of Dust

Two

Two

Continuing his walk down old rundown sidewalks that were congested with prostitutes and wanna-be thugs looking for some action, Mr. Jingles suddenly stopped in his tracks. He began to remember an old apartment complex that was not too far from where he stood. He had happened upon it years ago. It was was closed down because of the endless drug-related crimes that had taken place there. People were also found dead there, their cases unsolved.

Mr. Jingles changed direction and headed toward the abandoned apartments. He made his way through the dark alleyways, trying avoid human contact. The place would not be easy to get to. Whenever an apartment or business in these parts closed down for one reason or another, Gang bangers and drug lords moved in to claim it as their set, meaning, it became someone's turf. But because Mr. Jingles had lived in LA for so long. he knew his way into some of the most dangerous places. However, to get to where he intended to go, you had to go underground, which meant the sewers. Not many people were willing to even attempt such measures.

So, the old man began his ten-block hike to a forgotten manhole–the only manhole that would take him to his destination unseen. Unnoticed, he made his way past the filth and personal drama, stealthily reaching the narrow alley that concealed the manhole. Kneeling on the soiled pavement, Mr. Jingles tugged and pulled at the lid. It seemed that it hadn't been touched in decades, and opening it was next to impossible. Reaching into his duffle bag, he pulled out an old screwdriver, then he began chipping away at the old tar that had formed a seal around the cover. After a few minutes of this, he gave the heavy lid another tug and was finally able to break the metal cover free. He then eased himself slowly down the small hole. He was a thin man and there was just enough room for his body to fit.

Now moving with caution, he pulls the cover back in place and makes his way down the rusty ladder. The only reason he knew about this place was because when he was twenty-three years old, he'd had gotten into a bad fight with an enemy. It had started out a fair fight, and Mr. Jingles was surly getting the best of his opponent–that is until the man pulled out a gun and fired at him, striking him in the leg and sending Mr. Jingles running for his life. Upon trying to flee from the flying bullets, he stumbled over a manhole that would save his life.

Drawing his mind to the present, Mr. Jingles moaned inwardly, taking small steps, trying hard to block out the gruesome, foul stench that seemed to fill the air. Sewer mice and rats scurried over and around his feet, and as he waded through the polluted water, Mr. Jingles stopped as self-awareness caught up with him. He suddenly wondered why he was able to see his surroundings so clearly in such a dark and desolate place.

While pondering this strange mystery, he immediately realized that it was the eyes of the rats that were giving him just enough light to continue this dreadful journey. Not wanting to go all X-Files about it, he simply chalked the rat invasion up being a seasonal event, or perhaps an outcome of over-mating. Maybe that could cause such a thing, he thought to himself, completely unaware of the dark secret that lay ahead.

Mr. Jingles finally reached the spot, and with a sigh of relief, began climbing up another rusty latter. Holding onto the duffel bag while trying to keep his balance, he pushed with all of his might, but the lid would not budge. After several attempts, the old man bowed his head, swearing in anger.

Just as he was about to give up, a familiar sound filled the tunnel.

Rats.

Once again, the large rodents began gathering overhead, peering down through the manhole cover, their red eyes shiny and bright. In fact, the light reflecting from their eyes was so bright, Mr. Jingles could barely see. He covered his own eyes, attempting to block out the glare from above.