The corridor was sloping downward at an angle that was clearly noticeable now; no stairs, just a ramp going down, and down. Burke wasn't sure if stairs would've been better if they had to hightail it later, what with Al's bad leg - they'd probably be fucked either way. What's worse was that the corridor went down in a straight line, without curving, or turning corners, as far as he could tell in the weak light, so if he had to throw one of the grenades, they stood a good chance of blowing themselves up in the process. He had no idea if these were from the 22nd or the 27th century; no idea how big their blast radius would be. If he tried one, he'd prefer to be able to take cover first.

"Al, I swear to god, if you don't turn around now, I'll smash your fucking crutch over your stubborn skull and drag you back to the surface myself," he hissed. "This was a stupid mission from the start - you knew we wouldn't have enough time to really go looking for clues... and not enough firepower to do it safely, either!" And there was no way to know when they'd even find something to explore - it was entirely possible that their journey would end at another gate, one that the dead explorers hadn't gotten the opportunity to blow up. He fervently wished for so much luck.

Virdon didn't react; if anything, he was moving faster now, as if something was pulling him downward on an invisible string. As if he was hypnotized.

That's it. I'll knock him out, haul his sorry ass out of here...

But when he caught up with Virdon, Burke saw what had been calling out to his friend.

Light.

Cold, blue-white light shining out into their corridor from another gateway below them, still weak, but stronger than the gray glow that had been assaulting his eyes until now. If he had needed any proof that these ruins were inhabited, that light was it.

Who lived here? How did they live? What did they eat?

Not me, that's for sure!

He grabbed Virdon's arm. "Slow down, Al," he whispered. "Don't wanna stumble into these people before we know if they're friendly or not."

They crept closer to the gate that would've been the end of their journey if it had been closed; Burke guessed that his puny grenades wouldn't have made a dent in the heavy metallic door. Unfortunately, it stood a bit ajar, wide enough to squeeze through, wide enough to let that light shine out into the dark corridor.

For some reason, Burke suddenly remembered how deep sea fish sometimes used the same strategy to lure prey.

But Virdon had already slipped through the gap. For someone on a crutch, the man was too damn agile. Burke clutched his grenades and followed him.

The hall behind that door was empty; but Burke noticed that the corridors leading away - or into - the hall didn't have doors, and weren't lighted. Anything could be watching them from there, under the cover of darkness. And the little hairs on his neck were standing on end, assuring him that there was something in those corridors, and urging him to grab Virdon and get the hell out of here.

His commander seemed to be devoid of instinct, though, or was simply too stubborn to listen to it; he slowly limped out into the hall, maybe ten steps, before he finally stopped and surveyed what could be seen in the light of the neon lamps along the wall.

The room had the aura of a waiting area, like a station hall; and when Virdon half-turned, and gestured to the ceiling, Burke wasn't surprised to find old inscriptions above the tunnels. Not... not really surprised, no. But it still filled him with a strange feeling to read the designations in plain old English, knowing that they had to be close to a thousand years old.

Gate One

Gate Two

Gate Three

Decontamination

Hospital

Morgue

...

Decontamination? Burke flicked a glance to Virdon, wanting to ask him... but Virdon had wandered into the back of the hall, near the tunnels, and was now bending down to pick up something. Something small.

Against his better judgment, and ignoring his instincts that were yelling at him to turn back, get the hell out of here, Burke crossed the hall to join him. "Found something?"

Virdon made a move as if to hand him the thing, but Burke took a step back. Whatever it was, he didn't want to touch it. It was narrow, long, and yellow.

"It's a doll," Virdon said. "A child must've lost it in the shuffle, while they were being led underground."

Burke looked again at the thing, really looked this time, and realized that the yellow was a miniature radiation suit, complete with a helmet. The face behind the visor was familiar.

"Radiation Barbie?" Leave it to capitalism to make a dollar even in the midst of the apocalypse.

"Well, at least we now have an idea what destroyed our civilization," Virdon murmured.

"Yeah, well, could've also been a deadly virus, or an asteroid," Burke muttered, "but my bet was that we nuked ourselves to hell." He snatched the doll from Virdon's hand and flicked it aside. "Al, I'm not gonna go down those tunnels, and you won't, either. This place is creeping me out, and if whoever keeps the generators running was friendly, they'd be here by now with a tray of brownies and the offer to show us around. But-"

Virdon suddenly held up a hand, a look of alarm on his face, and Burke fell silent. Virdon turned his head and stared at Gate Two, and Burke felt adrenaline rush down his arms, filling him with white fire.

They listened.

Then Burke heard it - scratching noises, a faint, rapid patter, getting louder.

Coming up the tunnel.

He grabbed Virdon's arm. "Doesn't sound to me like they're bringing a tray of brownies!"

This time, he didn't have to plead with Virdon. They both turned and hurried back towards the entrance, and out into the corridor. Burke tried to close the gate, but the metal door was frozen in place. He caught up to Al, who was hop-limping up the slope, his breathing echoing from the naked walls, heavy and loud. Despite Virdon's efforts, he wasn't making much headway. Whatever was coming up the tunnel would be all over them in mere moments.

I've got the grenades. I'll blow whatever this is to pieces.

Or maybe they wouldn't detonate at all - how many centuries had they been rotting away under those corpses? Burke felt cold dread lodging in his gut at that thought.

The pattering noise was in the corridor now. Burke threw a hasty glance over his shoulder, but he and Virdon were farther away from the weak glow of the hall now, and all he could see were shadowy movements oozing through the gate, an impression of many bodies, but not with the right proportions. He stared at them for a moment, assessing their speed, then turned around to gauge Virdon's progress.

Not good. He jogged up to Virdon. "We need to run faster, Al, I don't think these things are human-"

Something cracked far ahead of them, a weak sound, echoing down the corridor. A gunshot, and the volume told Burke how far down they had moved.

Another shot, and another, all five bullets fired. Then silence.

The pattering of many feet behind them, louder now. Closer, and getting closer still.

Or maybe not feet at all.

Burke grabbed Virdon's crutch and threw it away, took him by the arm, and sped up.

For a frozen moment, a terrible curiosity tempted Virdon to face the source of the noise; it was tearing at him like a rip tide, pulling him towards the black maw of the tunnel, whispering to him that he'd see, he'd finally know...

Burke's hand clamped around his arm and broke his fascination. He turned around and hastily limped towards the gate, disappointment burning in his chest. They had finally approached a real chance to uncover the secrets of this place, only to be stopped by what sounded like a litter of rats...

But aggressive rats in great numbers could be dangerous, too. If the bites got infected... it was just unusual that they'd actively attack. Even rats only attacked when cornered.

Maybe they weren't rats.

I wish I could've seen what's really down there. For some reason, Virdon felt certain that humans had long deserted the deep crypts under the city. Something else had taken residence down there, something that was determined to keep them out, keep them away from their legacy...

Burke was beside him, bristling with panic. "We need to run faster, Al, I don't think these things are human-"

He tore the crutch out of his hand and dragged him along, and the urgency in his voice and his grip shook Virdon out of his dazed musings, making him gasp as the dark tide receded. He found himself stranded in a bleak tunnel, naked and blinking, and they were under attack, and they were deep under the city, with no place to hide or to hole up.

It wasn't pain that was slowing him down now, with adrenaline flooding him and drowning out all signals from his inflamed nerve. It was the fact that his nerve hadn't been able to fully control the muscles in his leg for weeks, and now, without the pain, he became aware for the first time how wobbly and unsure it felt - as if it could break down under him any moment. He was grateful for Burke's hand under his arm, supporting him as much as he was dragging him along, but at the same time, he felt incredibly guilty.

I'm slowing both of us down.

If their pursuers caught up to them, it would be because of him. Burke could've outrun them easily, he'd be up in the street by now.

Virdon's shirt was drenched with sweat, sticking to his chest. They had to struggle upwards now, on their way back, and his leg was shaking, and getting numb, and he was dragging it with him like a piece of wilful meat, heavy and tingling-

"Jesus Christ," Burke gasped. He let go of Virdon all of a sudden, shoving him against the wall, and Virdon stumbled and fell, bracing his hands against it in the last moment. He turned around to see what had spooked Burke.

The corridor behind them was crawling with... creatures.

He couldn't see them clearly in the weak glow of the emergency lights, but they were too small for normal humans - they had the size of little children, and for a moment, Virdon was gripped by the horrifying notion that Burke was about to throw a grenade into a crowd of preschoolers, frightened children who were rushing towards them for help, glad that two adults had finally found them after everyone else had died and had abandoned them in that lightless bunker deep in the Earth...

But then he saw that they were were coming at them on all fours.

And some of them were running along the ceiling like giant geckos.

A tingling sensation brushed over Virdon's arms and neck, as every hair on his body stood on end. Whatever was rushing towards them wasn't human anymore. If it ever had been.

"Get down!"

He fell flat on his belly and covered his head with his arms. It wouldn't help much if Burke had miscalculated the distance-

The detonation shook the floor, and he felt a second shudder as the ceiling came down. Burke's hand clasped like an iron vise around his arm and dragged him back on his feet before he could process-

A sharp pain flashed through his calf as sharp teeth bit down, and then dozens of knives were slashing his back as the creatures began to claw their way up towards his neck, Burke's hand was gone, and Virdon threw himself against the wall, again and again, until he felt bones crack, and something warm and soft running down his back.

More creatures were attacking him, biting down into his arms, and he couldn't reach the knife in his belt, they were hanging on his arms like lead weights, tearing at his flesh. He kicked at them, but they were sturdy, skittering away into the darkness while others took their place. Panic rushed over him, hot and acrid, and he swung his arm against the wall, smashing the creature's skull; it stopped gnawing, but its teeth were still buried in his arm, jaw locked in death like ant mandibles.

And then Burke was there, slashing and stabbing, and for a moment, the chaos subsided. Virdon stomped on another creature that was tearing at his leg, and then Burke was grabbing his arm again. "Gotta run before the rest finds a way through the rubble!"

The creature was still clamping down on his arm, and with the immediate danger gone, disgust was replacing panic now. "Get that thing off me!"

Burke cursed, wedged his knife between its jaws, and forced them open. "Okay, go, go, go!"

Virdon clutched his arm, trying to stop the bleeding, and stumbled on, trying not to trip over the piles of bones they had passed earlier. Burke let go of him to snatch up the rotting backpack, but the fabric tore with a ripping sound, and he cursed and just grabbed another grenade for the one he had thrown at their attackers.

They should've taken the hint and aborted, like Burke had demanded when they had found the unlucky explorers.

He had suggested it more than once. And he had been right. This had been the second time that an ancient city turned out to be a deadly trap as soon as they disturbed its surface, like a dormant virus, the remnant of an equally deadly past.

Beware the beast Man, for he is the harbinger of death...

He had heard Galen shoot moments ago. But he'd had just five bullets left... and since then, only silence. What was happening up there?

This is my fault...

His leg cramped up, and he stumbled. Only Burke's grip kept him upright. "Come on, Al, don't break down now, we're almost there!"

Virdon pressed the heel of his hand into the scar, trying to make it shut up by sheer force of will, and hobbled on. "I'm slowing you down, Pete..." he ground out.

"Yeah, don't matter, I've got some more grenades," Burke said absently. He had turned his head and was peering down the corridor. Virdon didn't dare to look back; at least there were no sounds now-

"Ah, damn."

Whatever it was that Pete had seen, it wasn't good.

Virdon strained to speed up, new sweat pouring down his back.