And just as the glow from the fungus in the chamber crept into his senses, a smell beyond the mildew and moisture comes to him. Like Ghede, he sniffs the air quickly. He breathes in quick through his nose in short pulses, like a dog, and the smell is unmistakable: rot. Standing from the floor, the paper in hand, he begins to move to one side of the chamber and sniff, and then moves to the opposite side and smells the air; the smell less strong now. He moves back to where the smell was stronger and repeats the steps of moving away from the smell in two directions and returning to where it is strongest. Slowly, he is lead by the scent to a corner of the chamber where the glow is cut off between two pipes two feet in diameter, standing side-by-side in the corner. Gingerly, he places his head in the gap between the pipes, the metal hot by his cheeks, sniffs, and the smell hits him hard and he recoils. Returning to the lunch box and the lantern, he fetches his zippo and re-lights the lantern.

The glow dissipates and Joe can clearly see the corner of the chamber where the smell had emanated from, the pipes standing erect together like guards. He approaches the dark gap between them, the lights playing off the water gathered on the pipes but refusing to illuminate the gap. Again, the heat from the pipes washing over him, he stands close to the gap and then turns sideways in order to slide his arm and the lantern between the pipes.

At first he sees nothing but a corner where two walls of the chamber meet, but the smell is strong and unfortunately obvious in name now. Lowering the lantern, the light reaches out to reveal a skull with wet, leathery skin, hollowed out eyes and wisps of frizzy gray hair. The lips are rotted back from the teeth so that it smiles unwillingly down toward the ground. Huddled in the corner, the corpse is seated on the floor, clothed in what are now just rags, arms wrapped around its legs as thought it were waiting for something. Then, right in his ear, right next to him, “Is that you, Joseph?”

“No!” Joe steps back from the gap in the pipes, turns toward the lunch box. “No, no, no.” He starts towards the little metal box, but just as he does, a massive, hot gust of wind blows in from the archway to his right. Dust and small particles of God-knows-what pummel him and he holds his arm up before his face to protect his eyes. Then answer this question, Joseph: Who are you?” Joe squints and looks in the direction of the gust, the wind giving no sign of weakening, and his heart skips a beat as the wind curls into his ears and the sound from the air dancing along the pipes, playing them like some whispering flute, “Whoooooo aaaaaare yoooooooou?” He moves into the wind, toward the archway, but can see nothing as the air seems to circle about him in the chamber, “It doesn’t matter who the hell I am! I’m getting the hell out of here!” And just like that, the wind dies and is gone.

Joe falls to the ground, kneeling, letting the lantern fall to the floor, and the shadows excitedly climb down the walls and pipes from the ceiling, watching Joe as his face falls into his hands and he cries, “Oh God… oh God…” He looks up for a moment and sitting just inside the open lunch box, the letter. He cries again, “Bridge! Oh god bridge! Help me!”

Read the whole thread: The Hunger Engine

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