The river must have been about fifty yards wide and gradually they come up on the other side. Unlike the other side though, the stone close to the water has been chiseled into three wide stairs. Ahead of him he can see Walt holding his lamp up to a wooden door held together with bolted iron bars. Joe sloshes up out of the cold river, the air no colder than before. He mounts the stairs and then sets his torch down on the floor, which he notes is made of granite stones set together nearly perfectly. There is no mortar that he can see. The masonry is exquisite. He stands up and claps his shoulders and his sides to get blood flowing, while he watches Walt set down his light. He turns to Joe and says, “Let me see that torch, man.”

“Sure,” and Joe lifts the torch and hands it off.

Walt looks wearily at the flame and then, holding the steel rod near the flaming end, he jams the other into the gap between the door and the door frame (also beautifully laid stone). The damp wood groans and gradually gives way to the steel lever. When it finally bursts open, a rush of air goes past Joe and Walt sucking the flame into the revealed corridor behind the door, the flame catching Walt’s sleeve on fire. “Shit! Shit!” Walt drops the torch on the ground and bats at his arm until the little flame goes out. He observes his arm for a moment and then smiles at Joe, “No air. Ain’t been this way in a looong time.”

Joe reaches down and picks up the torch, Walt his lamp, and the two make their way in to the corridor which is no wider or taller than the door itself. It is cramped, rectangular, straight, and completely smooth. As they enter, Joe runs his hand along the wall and tiny particles of rock trickle to the floor. “This was carved,” Joe observes.

Walt laughs. “Yeah it was!”

“What? Did you carve it?”

Walt pauses to turn back to Joe, his eyes widening in the flickering shadows. “Through the dark I came to the water / the Hustle feared to follow the fording / And the passage I found, I made / The end was meant for me!” He laughs again and begins moving down the passage.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Read the whole thread: The Hunger Engine

Characters and Places: Joe Takanara, The Inverted City, Walt Whitman