Read Online Embers & Ash by T.M. Goeglein - Free Book Online Page B

only way to continue was by crawling through the muck.
    Doug said what we were both thinking. “We could . . . we might get stuck. We should go back.”
    â€œTo what?” I answered, spitting mud. “This is it, my last chance.” When he didn’t reply, I said, “Doug? Are you having a panic attack?”
    â€œI’m too scared to panic,” he said quietly.
    I felt it then, a faint breeze blowing from just ahead. I squinted, seeing an actual light at the end of the tunnel—a horizontal half-moon shape, all that was left of the top of the tunnel exit. “Keep moving,” I said, pulling forward on my belly, ten more feet, then five, and then using both hands to dig away a larger opening through the half-moon. When it was just wide enough, I wiggled out, sliding face-first down a steep mound of dirt to a concrete floor below. I rolled onto my back, never so happy to be reclining in filth. Doug squeezed out using his elbows, slipping down next to me, saying, “Thank
god
I lost weight!” Rising woozily, he yanked the backpack from the crevice and looked around. “Where are we?”
    â€œSort of like where we started,” I said, nodding at a ladder bolted to the wall. Next to it, a painted hand pointed toward a high ledge. “There’s another tunnel up there.”
    â€œLet’s get the hell out of here.”
    â€œIf the ladder holds,” I said.
    â€œWe have the grappling hook. If that doesn’t work, I’ll sprout wings and fly our asses away from this muddy death pit,” Doug said.
    I pulled on the ladder but it didn’t budge. We ascended to the ledge and hesitated before the tunnel entrance. The darkness was impenetrable; it was impossible to tell if the ceiling and walls were intact.
    â€œAre we really going in there? Again?” Doug said with a shudder.
    â€œOnce, when I was first learning to box, I dropped my guard and got punched in the face so hard I saw stars,” I said. “My trainer, Willy, said it was the dumbest thing he’d ever seen. Made me promise to remember one of his rules of the ring.”
    â€œWhat’s that?” Doug said.
    â€œâ€˜Never do the same dumb thing twice.’” With a sigh, I said, “Forgive me, Willy,” and stepped inside the tunnel.

8
    NOTHING CRUSHED OUR SKULLS AND WE DIDN’T have to crawl through sludge. Instead, traveling on, it was our noses that were assaulted.
    â€œ
Mamma mia,
” Doug said, sniffing the air, “do you smell that?”
    â€œAre you kidding? How can I not?”
    â€œIt reminds me of the worst field trip I ever took,” he said. “A chicken farm on a hot day.
Disgusting
is too small a word for it.”
    I slowed down, shining the flashlight in front of me. The tunnel ended abruptly. Moving the beam, I said, “Is that a door?”
    Doug brushed cobwebs from it, showing a painted hand pointing upward and the words
To Fillmore Avenue
. “Fillmore?” Doug said. “I’ve studied the crap out of Chicago streets and I’ve never heard of that one.”
    â€œLook, no latch,” I said.
    Doug pushed on the door but it didn’t move.
    I stepped up and thumped a shoulder against it, and it budged a little. “Help me,” I said, and we shoved together. It opened slightly, scraping at the ground.
    â€œPee-freakin’-yoo!” Doug said. “Something in there needs to change its socks!”
    â€œOnce more,” I said. We threw ourselves against it and the door popped open with a thunderous crash as we stumbled inside.
    â€œIs that . . . it’s a
snake
!” Doug said, rolling around in the dark. “Help me, Sara Jane! It’s a huge—”
    I shined a beam toward him. “Hose. It’s a hose, Doug,” I said, moving the flashlight, spotting a light switch. I flipped it and lit the space. By pushing through the door, we’d knocked over a