Vernon strained, listening. What he heard was faint but persistent—a whine like bees trapped inside a house and trying to get out. But deeper. Almost human. It made his skin prickle into gooseflesh. Instinctively, he stepped back.
“What is that?” Leon asked. He raised the lantern. His eyes were huge.
“Shhh, quiet now,” Vernon whispered.
They waited.
“You hear it still?” Vernon whispered.
“No,” Leon whispered back, but just then, it came again, a little louder. “Told you I don’t like this. Let’s get out of here.”
Vernon gripped Leon’s arm. “Can’t go till the boss say go.”
“Hang the boss! He’s not down here with whatever that is.”
“You don’t just walk off the job with these Sicilian fellas,” Vernon warned. “We wait with the booze.”
A loud screech reverberated in the tunnel. The men felt it in their teeth.
“Dios mío,” Tony whispered.
“Boss or no boss, I’m gone,” Leon said.
Tony nodded.
“We go,” Vernon agreed.
The men ran. The lantern’s wobbly light threw their shadows up the old brick walls in looming, macabre waves. Suddenly, the lantern went out, plunging them into near darkness. There were only Vern’s miner’s hat lamp and Tony’s flashlight now, and they weren’t enough. Their frantic breathing was loud in their ears. Vern knew he should calm down, slow his breaths so that he didn’t faint. They all knew this. It didn’t matter. Whatever lurked in that corridor had them panting like trapped dogs.
“You hear that?” Leon asked, panicked.
The sound was moving closer. They could pick up the individual guttural growls buried inside the collective clamor. What was it? How many?
“It’s coming from behind us,” Vern said. “Where’s the lantern? Leon, get it lit!”
Another screech.
“Leon!”
“Trying, aren’t I?”
A screech came from their right and the men went still. It was very close.
“Thought you said it was behind us,” Leon whispered urgently.
Vernon swallowed hard. “It was.”
“Let’s go back!” Leon said and took off running back toward the vault under the bridge.
“Leon! Wait!” Vern called seconds before Leon’s scream rang out, then stopped abruptly.
Vernon had always wondered what his cousin Clyde had seen in the war that was too terrible to mention. Just now, he thought he might find out.
“Dios mío,” Tony said again. He dropped the flashlight and slid down the wall, putting his hands around his neck. “Ayúdame, Santa María!”
Vernon grabbed the flashlight. “Get up, Tony! We’re moving.” He hauled the terrified Tony to his feet, half dragging him down a set of darkened stairs leading deeper into the underground. A series of twists and turns later, they came out in an abandoned, partially flooded subway station. High above them, once-magnificent brick ceilings arched down into columns striated with years’ worth of water marks. The water was up to Vernon’s waist, but he was well over six feet; Tony, on the other hand, was only five and a half feet tall. The water reached his chest as he prayed fervently.
“Not far now,” Vernon said. He had no idea how far it was, but he needed Tony beside him.