Chapter 12 - The Under-City
The culvert felt endless, a dark labyrinth that reeked of sulfur and dry rot. Jonas kept one hand firmly on Maya’s shoulder, guiding her through the darkness using the infrared optic on his visor. Behind them, the roar of the pursuit bikes grew closer, the sound amplified by the curved concrete walls into a deafening mechanical shriek.
""Drop down!"" Jonas suddenly barked, shoving her into a recessed maintenance alcove.
He pulled a pair of heavy magnetic trip-mines from his belt, slapped them against the walls of the culvert, and primed them with a click. ""Keep your mouth open and cover your ears!""
Maya pressed herself flat against the damp floor, wrapping her arms around her skull and burying her face into her knees. A heartbeat later, the world dissolved into pure, concussive white noise.
The explosion shook the foundation of the storm tunnel, dislodging chunks of concrete that rained down like gravel. A fireball roared past their alcove, followed immediately by the twisted wreckage of an all-terrain motorcycle skidding across the tunnel floor, its engine block shattered and burning fiercely. The tunnel behind them collapsed under the blast, tons of broken stone and earth sealing the culvert behind a wall of impenetrable debris.
Silence fell, thick with choking smoke and the smell of vaporized fuel.
""Come on,"" Jonas coughed, hauling her out of the dust. ""The blast will alert every checkpoint in the sector. We have three minutes to reach the airlock.""
They emerged from the culvert into the subterranean belly of the old municipal reservoir. What had once been a subterranean lake was now an underground squatter camp known as the Gray Market. Hundreds of improvised shacks made of shipping pallets and plastic tarps clustered around the massive dry intake valves. Dim lanterns flickered in the gloom, revealing faces masked by rags—the unregistered, the indebted, the forgotten people of the drought zones.
""Jonas!"" a raspy voice called out from the shadows of a reinforced steel shipping container. A woman with prosthetic mechanical legs and an eye covered by a welder's lens stepped forward, carrying a modified hunting rifle. ""You brought heat into our home.""
""I brought the settlement ledger for the Northern Aquifer, Sarah,"" Jonas said, holding up the blood-stained physical drive. ""And I need three units of synthetic plasma, broad-spectrum antibiotics, and an automated dialysis kit. Now.""
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Sarah stared at the small metal drive in his hand, her single visible eye widening in disbelief. ""The water routes? You actually pulled Vance’s private ledgers?""
""Maya pulled them,"" Jonas said, pointing down at the trembling child. ""And her grandfather is dying in the rail yard.""
