In the corner of the cavern where Beatrice—where the backhoe, rather—sat, Walt had led Joe to a small opening that they crawled through. The tunnel walls were smooth and Joe had to lay his torch out in front of him crawling on the knuckles of his right hand as he clung to his source of light. Walt made no effort to wait for him and was twenty feet ahead or so, a mere silhouette behind his shimmering lamp. Joe had slid the lunchbox handle through his belt on his backside and now and again when the ceiling of the tunnel got low, the metal box would thunk against the rock. The sound seemed to carry forward and backward a vast distance and Joe would bend down closer to the floor. There really was no one to disturb with the sound; Walt certainly didn’t seem to notice. But the noise unnerved Joe as it made the walls seem to close in.

The tunnel seemed to go up at times and down at others. There was no way to tell if they were going deeper or gradually rising, and it went on like that for what seemed hours. At one point, Joe, exasperated, calls out to Walt, “Wait! Wait. I need to stop for a second. The light ahead pauses and then Joe can see Walt turn himself sideways, his back to the wall of the tunnel, waiting. Joe catches up to him after a few minutes and observes Walt shuffling through his wads of paper. “Sorry. I just needed a quick breather.”

“Okay.”

Joe takes a minute to catch his breath and then says, “I thought we were going someplace better. This doesn’t feel better.”

Walt unfurls a note and turns it one way and then the other. “We’re close.” He looks up to the wall of the tunnel and seems to stare at nothing. “You can hear it now.”

Joe holds his breath and listens, but can only hear his torch licking the air. Then the torch flickers and he feels what must be the faintest of breezes. Then he can hear it; a white noise. It was faint, barely audible over the sound of his breath, but there. A wash, a hiss. “Is that water?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Is it one of the other water tunnels? One of the older ones?”

Walt looks at him for the first time since they’d set out into the tunnel. “Don’t know.”

Joe shakes his head. But at least they were getting somewhere. “All right, then. I’ve got my breath back. We can go when you’re ready.”

Without a word, Walt turns and begins crawling away again.

Some time later the tunnel begins to widen and the pair can stand again. Now the sound of white water was clear and the rushing sound growing until Joe can hear little else. The two come to a space where the tunnel widens and as the stone slopes down away from them, Joe can see black water lapping at the edge. Walt is already ankle deep in the water, holding the lamp close to it, looking for something. Joe looks to either side of the tunnel entrance where a small path, maybe two feet wide, appears to run off alongside the water’s edge. He moves to the edge of the water and holds his torch high. He can see no ceiling, nor the other side of the rushing water. Hear and there are little ghosts of whitecaps.

Walt splashes his hand in to the water and pulls up a cable. Joe watches as the cable rises up and reveals itself on the shore where they stand, having been buried under rocks and silt. The cable, taut now, travels into a small hole in the rock near the exit of the tunnel. Joe gets down on his hands and knees and tries to see where the cable goes, but the hole is not much larger than the cable itself. It’s smooth though, clearly drilled somehow. Nearby are several other smooth holes; not as deep. Unsuccessful attempts? The cable grows more taut as Walt tugs on one direction and then the other across the river. Satisfied, he holds his lamp out in front of him and begins to wade into the river. Joe watches in disbelief as Walt comes up to his shins, then knees and then thighs, stepping carefully on the unseen bottom of the dark underground river. “There’s a path along the river, Walt!” Joe calls out. But he knows it’s useless and is not surprised when Walt does not even acknowledge him.

He checks to see that his lunchbox is secure, grabs the cable and follows Walt into the dark water. The bottom of the river is smooth rock and he slides his feet along the stone to keep his balance in the strong current. He pulls himself along the cable, keeping up with Walt as they come up to their waste in the cold, cold water. Joe shivers and takes deep breaths. Briefly, he pauses and waves his torch in an arc over the surface of the river, but can see nothing but the reflection of the flame on the torrent. He moves on.

Read the whole thread: The Hunger Engine

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