“Remind me, why are we doing this again?” Mark moaned, with a hint of worry in his voice. “All things considered, this is a really stupid job.”
“Don’t be an infant, Mark, this has to be done.”
Mark leered at his stony-faced comrade, Bill, who was half way down the stairs leading to the dank tunnels below. He returned the look, snorting at his cross expression as if recalling a joke, before continuing.
“The Boss says the pipes are leaking. Pipes are leaking, we get fixing. We get fixing, we get paid. Simple as.”
“Yeah, but in this tunnel?” The place has got ‘horror cliché’ written all over it. Why the hell does the boss insist on going down there? Why cant we just dig under the road?” Bill paused, giving a quick stroke of his scraggy grey beard before giving a short response. “Because it’s cheap.”
“Cheap? You know what happens when people go down there. The last time one of us had to go down and fix something he didn’t come back out.” Bill laughed.
“Oh yes, they never found his corpse, they say it lies down there forever, yada-yada. Can we just get on with it? Please?” Mark sighed.
“You really are an a*****e, Bill.”
“Hey, they don’t pay me to be nice, they pay me to fix pipes. So I’ll fix pipes.”
The two climbed down the long stairwell before reaching a rusted gate. Mark could see nothing through the iron slats but an empty void as Bill rummaged around in his jacket pocket before pulling out a long, thin key, and jamming it in the lock. With a quick twist of his wrist, the gate creaked open. “Since you’re so spooked about getting lost in this place, I’ve not only brought a map, but I’ve also brought the longest bit of rope I could find. Tie it to the gate; we’ll trail it along with us. It’ll be like Hansel and Gretel except without the cannibalism. And the Germans.” Bill flicked up the switches on the fuse-box next to the gate, and the dim lights started to slowly crawl to life along the walls. He pulled out the map, a crumpled brown piece of paper. The edges had been either torn or burnt, and a hastily sketched collection of corridors, paths and crypts that didn’t order themselves to logic or reason spanned across the page. Mark, straining with effort, tied the knot in a series of mad tangles. Bill furrowed his brow. “Christ, it’s not going to fall off, no need to be so paranoid.” But Mark wasn’t taking any chances. “Right, you see this little blue X on the map? That’s the pipe we’re fixing. Shouldn’t be too difficult.” Mark gulped. The X was more than just a little while away. From what he saw, it looked like an hour was going to be spent in the depths of the tunnels. The two looked at each other, nodded, and then set off down the beaten and broken corridors.
Time seemed to slow down as the two walked. The path Bill took twisted turned, duck, dived, and many times Mark was sure that they just went in circles. Disgusting stains bled from the cracks in the ground, Rats scurried by their feet, Mark swore he heard moans through the halls of concrete. Bill meanwhile strolled on without a hitch, occasionally chuckling when Mark tripped up on a rock, or cursed after stubbing his toe after hitting a jutting piece of concrete from the floor. Before long the hour went on to two. Then three. After each hour they had to retrace their steps as the rope ended. After another fruitless venture into the tunnels, all of a sudden, the rope stopped giving with an abrupt halt. “Bill, the rope is gone. Again. We’ve been walking for hours, and not once have we seen any of the landmarks of the map. Either the map is b******s, or you’ve gone senile.” Bill spat at the ground before spinning towards Mark, neck and neck, eye to eye.
