The Darwin Elevator (44 page)

Skyler shrugged, unsure which outcome would be best.

“Enough with the self-loathing,” Prumble said. “You’re upsetting my delicate stomach.”

Skyler stared at the trail of smoke from the incense stick.

“So,” Prumble said, “a way into Nightcliff?”

“I was hoping you might have some ideas,” Skyler replied.

“I can do better than that.”

Skyler met his smiling eyes.

“Up for a bit of a walk?” Prumble asked.

Skyler walked next to Prumble through the narrow alleys of the Maze. The rain had lifted, true to Prumble’s word, and the city bustled in the reprieve. Rain would have been preferred. Rain can’t pick pockets, or drive a knife into the small of the back.

Yet the crowds parted. Prumble strode through the morass with total confidence. Chin up and arms turned inward like a body builder, his leather duster trailing in the wake. He held his cane in one clenched fist, as if he might lash out with it on a whim.

The sight of some Jacobites, preaching to a small crowd in a side alley, brought a taste of bile to Skyler’s throat. Swallowing, he kept his eyes forward.

Prumble took a bizarre, twisting path, full of sharp turns, sudden stops, and retraced steps. He paused the march frequently, ducking into shops or small alcoves, where he would massage his aching leg.

“We can sit somewhere,” Skyler said, “if you need a rest.”

“The leg is fine,” Prumble said, leaning on his cane while he rubbed his knee. “But my belly is rather distinct, and I fear Blackfield’s agents are still looking for me.”

Another dozen turns transpired and Skyler became truly lost. Then Prumble turned down an alley that stopped at a dead end. He kicked away the only tenant of the bleak space: an enormous gray rat. At the back of the alley was a nondescript steel door. Prumble produced a key ring from his jacket, selected one key from the hundreds that hung there, and opened the door. He propelled Skyler through it by the elbow, following right on his heels.

Down a damp stairwell, the pair approached a padlocked door engraved with
Power & Water Corp
and
Maintenance Access Only
. It looked at least a century old. Prumble shook his key ring, thumbed through the silver and brass objects, and selected another.

The small room beyond was just big enough to fit its only feature: a round steel hatch on the floor.

A ladder led down into darkness and the pungent smell of sewage.

“You clever bastard,” Skyler said as they reached the bottom and entered the wide sewer tunnel. “This leads into Nightcliff?”

“Yes,” he said. “Well … sort of. You’ll see.”

From another jacket pocket, Prumble produced a small handheld LED lantern. The wan blue-white light hinted at a cockroach infestation of epic proportions. The insects scattered from the light source and gave every shadow a swirling, shimmering depth.

The tube-shaped tunnel was perhaps five meters wide. A meager stream of putrid water, maligned with rotting chunks of unidentifiable refuse, meandered along the bottom. Running along one side was a narrow walkway, lined by a rusted old railing. Skyler had to lean to his left to keep from scraping his head.

“Amazing,” he said. “I never knew this existed.”

“Few do,” said Prumble. “I found this place by accident.”

Skyler glanced in both directions. “You’d think there’d be more water.”

Prumble shook his head. “It’s the original system, from when Darwin was little more than a town. The modern system of microtunnels is just above us; that’s where most of the runoff goes.”

A familiarity in Prumble’s words told Skyler the man had spent a lot of time down here. Prumble probably moved his wares through here, or paid others to do so.

The fat man inhaled deeply. “Not too bad down here after a good rain!”

The stench made Skyler’s eyes water. He could hear the chattering echo of rats, somewhere distant. “Who else knows about this?”

“Occasionally I come across other people down here, usually lowlifes moving their drugs. They’re easy enough to scare off.”

“How far does it go?”

“Covers the extent of the old city,” Prumble said. “Though some tunnels have been blocked with grating or even filled with concrete.” They walked to the first intersection of tunnels. “How are you for supplies?”

Skyler tapped his weapon. “Enough ammo to stop an army. Provided that army is only two men.”

“We’ll make a detour then,” Prumble said.

Most of the journey passed in silence. After thirty minutes, Skyler felt nauseous from the stench. Finally they left the walkway and climbed another stairwell, which led to a heavy, locked door. Prumble had the key.

Skyler followed the giant man into a room stacked full of metal lockers and various sundries, like a miniature version of Prumble’s garage. A table made of thick wood dominated the center of the space.

“What is all this?” Skyler asked.

“My private reserve,” Prumble said with a flourish. “We are directly below my garage. As luck would have it, I was down here when Blackfield struck. They didn’t find the secret hatch.” The giant man moved to the left wall and started opening cabinets.

“Holy Mary Mother of God,” Skyler said.

Weapons, of all shapes and sizes, filled the cabinets.

“Some judicious skimming of your deliveries, in truth. Hope you can forgive me.”

Skyler walked forward and picked up a high-powered assault rifle.

“I plan to sell most of this,” Prumble said. “It is all I have left, after all. But you, my friend, are welcome to take what you need for your suicide mission.”

Skyler prickled. “I plan to live.”

“Suit yourself.”

Skyler put the rifle back, knowing that his task ahead required subtlety. Instead he pocketed five clips of hollow-point ammunition for his submachine gun.

“This might be useful,” Prumble said, offering him a small black cylinder. A holographic targeting sight, which attached to the top of his weapon. “Take a few grenades, too.”

Skyler did so, pushing them carefully into his backpack. “Listen. About the second half of this plan,” he said.

“What about it?”

“I was, you know, hoping you’d tell me what it is.”

The fat man grinned. “The sewers do in fact lead to Nightcliff,” he said, crossing the room to another cabinet. “But a series of iron gates block access. I never ventured farther, alas, as I have no key. You, however, do not need to exit the way you came.”

With cautious movements, Prumble removed a brown cardboard box from the cabinet and set it on the table next to Skyler.

Inside were wrapped bars of plastic explosive. Enough to take down a small building, Skyler guessed. Prumble set another box beside it, full of blasting caps, laser initiators, and a spindle of fiber optic cable.

“They’re old,” Prumble said, “but should suffice.” He selected one of the bars and hefted it. “Two should do the trick, so we’ll bring four, yes?”

Chapter Thirty-seven

Darwin, Australia

10.FEB.2283

The plan required waiting until the next storm hit the city. During wet season in Darwin that meant less than a day.

Thunder, Prumble hoped, would mask any noise or vibration caused by their activities. Skyler didn’t cherish the idea of emerging from the sewer below Nightcliff to a circle of guns trained on his face, and readily agreed. To pass the time, he suggested they head up through the garage to the roof, where they could watch the sky.

A spectacular sunset greeted them—crimson and sapphire, broken by wide swaths of purple clouds. Wet season, for all its faults, knew how to paint a canvas.

Despite the show, the Elevator pulled at Skyler’s gaze. “The subhumans are changing, I think. Mutating, or … something.”

“Heard that, too,” Prumble said. “Newsubs, right? Packs of them picking away at the edge of the city. Some say as far in as the Narrows.”

Skyler let out a long sigh. The pile of problems amassed in the last few weeks felt like being buried alive. “How long do you give us?”

Prumble stared at the horizon, his leather duster whipping in the breeze. “You shall outlive me, by a good—”

“I mean all of us,” Skyler said. “Humanity.”

“Oh.” The giant man considered the question. “I suspect we’re getting our just due, for what we did to old Mother Nature.”

Skyler cast his eyes downward, nodding solemnly. “She does hold a grudge, doesn’t she?”

“I’d wager,” Prumble said, “ten years. The population here shrinks by the day, and construction Up There could only make a snail proud.”

Skyler picked up a stone and hurled it over the edge. “You never know. We’re tenacious buggers.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps.”

Their talk turned to less depressing matters, until an angry morass of clouds loomed a few kilometers away. Lightning danced within the purple puffs.

“I think it’s time,” Prumble said.

Skyler agreed and led the way back to the panic room.

Two hours later they reached the barricade.

Six iron grates, spaced a half meter in succession, blocked the tunnel. The gaps between the bars in each grate were just big enough for Skyler to push his hand through.

“This is going to make a hell of a noise,” he said, reaching through the first grate. With extreme care, he pushed a brick of plastic explosive against the second barricade. A loop of duct tape on the back joined it to the bars.

The process was repeated for the first grate.

“We’re under Ryland Square here,” Prumble said. “Not even to the wall yet. And there’s a storm. It will be okay.”

“I’m worried more for my own ears,” Skyler said. “We should move as far back as we can.”

The spindle of fiber optic cable held fifty meters of the orange wire and Skyler planned to use all of it. He poked two laser-initiated blasting caps into each brick of explosive and plugged the optical connectors into a hub on the end of the main cable.

“Let’s go,” he said. Prumble picked up the extra supplies and headed back the way they’d come. Skyler followed, rolling out the cable while walking backward.

Storm water swelled into the old tunnel, creating a knee-high brook of babbling rainwater in the bottom of the tube. The sound had an oddly soothing effect on Skyler, so long as he ignored the smell of excrement and urine.

When the cable ran out, Prumble handed him the trigger mechanism. A simple metal box, the size of a deck of cards, with an on-off toggle and one red button. Skyler moved the switch to “on” and set it on the ground, intending to activate the device with his foot. He plugged his ears and looked at Prumble. “Here goes—”

“Wait,” Prumble said.

Skyler pulled his fingers out of his ears. “What is it?”

The big man looked like a child on the verge of tears. His lower lip quivered.

“What is it?”

“Once you blow the grate,” Prumble said, “you’ll need to get in there quick. In case they do hear it.”

“So?” Skyler said.

“So,” he said, “so this may be goodbye.” Prumble stepped forward and engulfed Skyler in a crushing bear hug.

Face mashed into the faux leather of Prumble’s coat, Skyler waited for the hug to end before speaking. “It’s not goodbye, okay?”

“Don’t underestimate the danger you’re walking into, Skyler.”

“It’s
not
goodbye,” he repeated. “It’s see-you-soon, if anything. I’ll get this done and bring the crew back, and we’ll spend our days playing cards at your quiet little café, drinking to the good old days.”

Prumble pressed his lips into a thin line, as if he’d taken a bite of lemon.

He’s holding back tears,
Skyler realized.

“You better, you bastard,” Prumble finally said with a melancholy laugh. “Whatever happens, I’ll either be there or leave word for you.”

“Good.”

“I’m serious, Skyler. If you leave me to rot alone in this city, I will hunt you down and sit on you.”

Skyler shook his head and clapped his friend on the shoulder. “A fate worse than SUBS,” he managed, laughing.

The big man grinned, nodded, and did his little jig. “Cover your ears,” he sang, and danced over to the detonator. With a total lack of grace, he performed a spin and then stomped down on the switch.

The world shook.

Skyler felt, more than heard, the explosion. His clothing buffeted and a wave of hot wind slammed into him. Bits of metal and concrete splashed into the water just meters away.

“Get going,” Prumble said when the shrapnel died down.

Skyler gripped the man’s arm again. “Thank you. For everything. You’re a true friend.”

“Don’t get all weepy on me, you girl. Into the mouth of hell with you.”

Two bricks of plastic explosive turned out to be overkill.

All six iron grates lay in twisted ruin, skeletons of rust. The concrete around the blast area showed cracks, groundwater already dripping through.

“Can’t allow shit like this in the city, eh Russell?” Skyler said, aloud, the sound echoing along the tunnel. Blackfield wasn’t so paranoid after all.

The walkway along the side of the sewer tunnel had collapsed in the explosion. With no other option, Skyler grimaced and stepped into the stream of dark water. Fluid rushed his combat boots, shockingly cold.

Teeth chattering, he nevertheless took his time in navigating around the wreckage of the barricade. With all the other injuries he’d incurred, the last thing he figured he needed was a nasty gash from a rusty piece of bent iron.

Prumble had given Skyler the satchel that contained two additional bricks of explosive, plus the required blasting caps and triggers. He held the bag to his chest with one arm wrapped around it, needing his other arm free to hold his rifle, which also served as his flashlight.

Safely beyond the barricade, Skyler walked along the side of the sewer for another fifty meters before coming to a tiny alcove with an access shaft. The circular tunnel led straight up into darkness, an iron ladder along one side. Skyler put a foot on the bottom rung and stepped up, testing the ladder with his weight.

Satisfied, he slung the bag of explosives over one shoulder, then slung his rifle over that. He tightened his gun strap and arranged the gun so it pointed straight up, allowing him to climb with both hands while still able to see. On the second step he paused and triple-checked the safety, wanting to avoid shooting himself in the chin. The vision of such a comical end to his journey made him chuckle softly in the darkness and stench.