"This is the one," Eliah said.
They had walked further into the tunnels, finally arriving at a particularly large one. At least twice as high as a man, it led downhill along a gentle slope. They had followed it, and where they stood now, its floor descended into an underground lake.
"The water seeps down from the river." Eliah gestured at the still surface. "It's poisonous but not as bad as the river itself. And, as you've seen, even the river won't always kill you. In particular if you can swim and don't swallow too much of it. Most of the river's evil spirits dwell in the oil at its surface, and there's little of that down here."
The lake continued along the tunnel ahead, losing itself into darkness.
"It crosses beneath the river," Eliah said. "All the other tunnels under the river are flooded. But in this one, the draining seems to be working. Or it used to work when I walked it, some years ago. At that time, the water at its lowest point reached no higher than my knees. After that, the tunnel goes up again, and it takes you to the other side."
"I can come with you, if you want, I've—" Rebecca began, but Eliah stopped her.
"No, you won't go with her. Jael would kill me if I'd let you do that. We've got to say goodbye to our guest at this point." With that, he handed Beth the lantern he had been holding.
It was warm to the touch, with a small candle feeding a weak flame.
"Thanks. I..." She felt reluctant to leave these two. "You have been so kind."
A kindness she didn't deserve.
"Kindness is vanity in disguise." Eliah smiled a wrinkly smile. "Just be careful. We'll wait here for a while in case you have to turn back if the water stands too high to continue. And if you get through, don't forget that the deserts on the other side are not a place to linger. In particular if you happen to head west, cross them quickly." He winked.
Beth nodded. He didn't seem to believe her coming from a hamlet in the North. Avoiding his quizzical gaze, she looked at Rebecca, whose mouth was a thin line.
How would it be to live in a place like this, surrounded by old people?
"Thanks to you, too, Rebecca." Beth felt sorry for her. "I... if I ever come this way again, I'll pay you a visit."
The woman's face lit up. "That would be lovely."
"With the Lord's speed, you go," Eliah said and pointed his stick into the darkness ahead.
Beth turned her back on the two and stepped into the water.
It would be lovely, Rebecca had said. That rang true in a poetic way, but would it ever happen? Beth doubted it.
She didn't look back and continued, treading carefully on the silty, slippery ground. Each step sent ripples ahead. They glittered in the light as they ran away into the unknown.
Beth kept herself in the center of the tunnel, disliking the pockmarked, glistening walls on its sides.
She should have asked Eliah how long it would take her to cross and how to find an exit on the other side. But it was too late for that now.
When the water reached her knees, she stopped. Hadn't Eliah said that this was as deep as it got?
She looked back, but there was only darkness behind her.
A steady dripping of water, as slow as her heartbeat, was the only sound she heard.
Reigning in her fear, she continued.
~~~
And the water deepened. First, she hoisted her skirt to keep it from getting wet, but this made walking hard, so she let it go again.
Her submerged skin started itching, like the day before while she was swimming in the river.
The water level rose, reaching her thighs and then her hips. When it came up to her shoulders, she stopped.
Should she turn back?
Would she be able to swim while holding the lantern above the water?
She tried, holding the lantern with one hand aloft while paddling with the other and her legs.
She wouldn't be able to keep this up for long.
As she swam in this way, the ceiling slowly descended, approaching the rippling surface.
The itching grew stronger, and her shoulder cramped from holding the lamp.
She peered ahead, trying to see the point where the ceiling closed in on the water.
It was time to turn back.
But she continued.
~~~
Minutes or hours later, the distance between water and ceiling increased again, and finally she reached the end of the lake.
After a brief rest, she walked on. The tunnel rose steadily and then widened at a place that looked an underground train station. There, she found stairs leading upwards.
As she ventured from a ruined building into a street outside, the light made her squint. The river was to the right and below here, smelly and sluggish. Beyond it, the ruins of city center reached into the sky.
The heat of the day was a shock after the cool of the tunnels. It made her regret that she hadn't drunk more when she had had the opportunity.
Burt had suggested to find a pan and boil the river's foul water. She padded the pocket of her skirt where she had left the lighter, finding it flat. She dug into it, but it was empty.
The lighter was gone. She must have lost it.
So, boiling was not an option. But anyway, the poison of that foul river would hardly be tamed by mere heat.
Staring at the decayed buildings, she wondered what to do.
Going back to the bridge held by the Baseballers was an option. If they weren't there, she could just cross back. Find that bloody stadium. They did have water.
She could.
But that would be defeat.
She turned west instead towards the hazy, yellowish hills visible at the horizon. Seaside had to be out there.
The houses dwindled quickly, yielding to thorny bushes and the pale skeletons of dried trees. She followed a road. Its tarmac was torn, and whitish sand filled the fissures in it.
A flat, parched plane surrounded her, without movement, without shade, and without sound.
She staggered on, following a pitted road cutting its way through a sea of desiccated shrubs towards the far hills.
When she saw the bird, the sun stood high in the sky, and the road had dwindled into a mere track.
The animal sat on the ground, one wing folded while the other one hung down, its feathers touching the sand. It had the size and the stupid eyes of a pigeon, but its plumage was brown.
Beth stopped and stared at it. Was it hurt, landlocked, and easy prey? Was it real or a mirage?
If it was real, it was flesh and blood.
Its blood would quench some of the thirst ravaging her throat.
The bird tilted its head at Beth. It was no more than a jump way, but Beth had no more jumps in her—just staggers.
And that was what she did; she staggered towards the animal.
It screeched and ran in a flutter of wings and legs—surprisingly fast. Beth moved quicker. The animal threaded its way through a stand of bushes. She followed it, and thorns tore into her skin. Looking down while stumbling ahead, she found blood on her arms.
Her eyes still on her torn skin, she took another step forward, and her foot failed to find the ground. Momentum carried her on.
As she fell, she remembered the name the gangs had given this place.
The Wastelands.