“See those things over there?” Sam asked, pointing down a surprisingly pristine sewer tunnel. Shadows lurched and shifted in a rolling mass, not quite yet exposed to the flashlight Sam sliced through the darkness.
“Kinda.” Ben squinted where Sam was pointing. “What are they?”
“Hell if I know. There’s a lot of ’em, they’re coming this way, and we’re in the God Damned sewers. You stay here and get autographs, I’m getting the hell out of here,” he quipped, already moving toward another open tunnel.
“But what about the…” Ben stopped short and backed away from the approaching creatures. “Man… some of those things have teeth. I shouldn’t be able to see that from here!”
As if sensing the pair’s panic, the distant sewer tunnel began to boil with activity, and the pursuit began. The shuffling mountain of teeth and eyes was still too far to clearly see, but something primal inside Ben told him he didn’t want to see, that even a fleeting glimpse would drive him utterly mad. Get the fuck out, Mack. Those things aren’t kittens.
Ben was running so blindly after Sam that he collided roughly into his back, startling his old friend into dropping the flashlight into the grimy water.
“Fuck me gently with a rusty chainsaw…” Sam groaned, looking into the water as the light dimmed and vanished.
Ben had quickly recovered from the crash, twisting around Sam in a haphazard spin, and resumed his escape. Within seconds, already he trudged several yards ahead of Sam. Sam shrugged and followed the Ben’s frantic splashing. The things sounded closer than before, and nothing as innocuous as rats were so persistent. As Sam ran, an echoing titter became audible and slowly grew louder behind him. He cursed and sloshed through the storm-water faster, knowing it was futile, but too driven and terrified to care.
When he finally caught up with Ben, Sam was confused, had already opened his mouth to ask why he stopped running. Then he saw. The tunnel began to emit a deep crimson glow, and the walls peeled back from themselves, revealing a rough outline of chicken-wire and cracked stained tiles. Before their eyes, words and symbols written in blood seeped from every surface not composed of wire or metal. A raw grinding noise rolled high and low without regard for direction, industrial and infinitely perverse. Though a haunting light poured around them, the stark maleficence exuded a taint worse than the blackest twilight.
Quickly gaining ground, the misshapen throng of mysterious creatures continued, undaunted by the irrational shift in scenery. Revealed in the light as they approached, both men gazed upon that which none should bear witness. Gripped in a palpable state of horror and shock, neither even retained the sense to scream.