Chapter 13 - THE AQUEDUCT OF GHOSTS
The freezing water of the drainage aqueduct surged around Julian’s shins, carrying the metallic stench of industrial runoff and ancient silt as they pushed deeper into the subterranean maze. The flashlights cut erratic beams through the swirling mist, illuminating endless rows of rusted pipes and calcium-encrusted concrete arches that seemed to stretch into infinity.
“Keep the wheelchair steady!” Miller grunted, his boots slipping on the slick, slime-covered floor as he fought against the swirling current to keep Clara’s head above the rising waterline. “If the chair tips in this current, we’ll lose her in the undertow.”
Clara let out a muffled, agonizing cry, her fingers digging deep into the wet fabric of her grey t-shirt as another contraction wracked her body. “Julian… my phone… is it… still transmitting?”
Julian pulled the battered device from his pocket, shielding it with his body from the dripping water overhead. The screen was completely black, dead and unresponsive, drowned out by the moisture and the absolute lack of signal down here in the city’s forgotten plumbing. “It’s dead, Mom. There’s no signal. We’re totally off the grid.”
“Good,” Clara whispered, a faint, exhausted smile touching her pale lips despite the pain. “We’re… finally invisible.”
“Invisible doesn't mean safe,” Vance muttered, sweeping his flashlight beam across the curved ceiling of the pipe where thick bundles of old, severed fiber-optic cables hung like dead vines. “The city’s acoustic sensors are built into every major drainage line. If we make too much noise, the automated flood-gates upstream will open automatically to flush the debris.”
As if the machine had heard him, a deep, mechanical groan echoed from somewhere far behind them in the dark—a rhythmic, subterranean rumble that vibrated through the soles of their boots and caused the rushing water in the aqueduct to rise an inch in a matter of seconds.
“They’ve triggered the automated flush cycle,” the scarred man, who had followed them into the pipe, shouted over the rising roar. “The drainage gates are opening upstream! We have less than three minutes before a wall of wastewater hits this section!”
Julian looked ahead into the pitch-black tunnel, panic seizing his chest with icy fingers. “Is there an exit? Please tell me there’s an exit!”
“The maintenance ladder fifty yards ahead!” Vance yelled, pointing his beam toward a rusted vertical iron ladder bolted into the concrete wall, leading up to a heavy circular manhole cover that showed a faint, gray sliver of natural daylight filtering down from above.
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“Move, move!” Miller shouted, putting all his strength into lifting the front wheels of Clara’s wheelchair as they slogged frantically through the waist-deep, freezing water toward the ladder, the roar of the oncoming wall of water growing louder and more terrifying with every single second.
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