Finally, he veered onto the sidewalk and haphazardly dashed down the stairs, fighting to keep his balance. Darkness filled the station at the bottom of the stairs, but Jaysynn would not stop. He stumbled into the shadows on wobbly legs. Exhausted, his legs buckled and he fell to his hands and knees like a peasant bowing before his emperor. His muscles burned, his heart thundered in his ears, his clothes were soaked with sweat and blood, his lungs sucked in stale air. The bruises were fully formed now; he felt them. He opened his eyes, and they were stung by perspiration.
“I have fallen into Barathrum,” said Jaysynn.
“I’ve not found Mastema. You’re not dead yet,” replied a familiar voice.
Jaysynn looked up. On the edge of the light stood Dracon and Elrik, both bloodied and bruised, their uniforms ripped and tattered. The general hurried to Jaysynn and knelt over him.
“Can you stand?” he asked.
“I think so.” Jaysynn forced himself to stand in spite of everything.
“We can’t waste time,” said Dracon. “The panicking hordes may find their way down here, and we have no firearms to defend ourselves.”
“Why not?”
“They were destroyed in the cataclysm,” interjected Elrik.
“But how?”
“Your questions will wait,” snapped Dracon.
Jaysynn had flashbacks to when his mother, Empress Zebel, chided him as a child.
“Right now our most pressing concern is illuminating our path to the bunker,” continued the general. “The electricity is out in the entire city.”
The men paused to think. Screams reverberated from the streets above.
Jaysynn was the first to speak: “Do either of you have a lighter?”
“I have two,” replied Elrik, producing one from his pocket. He flipped it open and flicked it on, illuminating his battered face.
“What do you have that for?” asked Dracon.
Elrik closed the lighter, saying, “I…still haven’t quit smoking.”
“That’s beside the point. If we can find a stick or a rod, we can make a torch using our clothes,” said Jaysynn.
Dracon smiled and nodded at Jaysynn. “However, our clothes are soaked with fluids. We can’t be sure the torch will burn. We will use the lighter, but gather materials for a torch, just in case we need it.”
The three men scrambled. Jaysynn dared to venture close to the bottom of the staircase. He glanced at the thin handrail lining the stairs. He grabbed a piece of nearby mortar and struck the handrail with it. The clank echoed through the station. He struck it again and again, the mortar digging into his palm, and bent the rail. Dracon ordered Jaysynn to stop making noise lest he attract unwanted attention. Finally, the prince broke the handrail. With a few torques, he severed a one-foot section from it.
“I got it!” called Jaysynn, running toward the soldiers with the rod in hand.
Elrik flicked the lighter on, illuminating the dark tunnel.
“I hope that’ll last us long enough,” said Jaysynn.
“The bunker should only be a mile down that tunnel,” said Dracon. “But we must hurry before we’re followed. We must get you to safety.”
With that, the three men jumped onto the u-train rails and dashed down the tunnel. No one spoke. The tunnel was eerily quiet, like a tomb. Darkness filled it, broken only by the dying flame of the lighter. Jaysynn reminded himself that no u-train would come speeding down the rails with the power out. The lights in the tunnel did not even flicker. Sometimes the silence was broken by the low rumbles of stampeding crowds, collapsing buildings, and exploding cars on the streets above them. Jaysynn feared that eventually the ceiling would buckle and rain bodies and debris on them in a hypothetical cloudburst.
Suddenly, their light source died. Jaysynn heard Elrik flick the lighter to no avail, cursing in frustration. “It’s almost out of fuel,” the soldier said.
“We’ll need the other lighter for later,” said Dracon. He sighed. “Make the torch.”
Jaysynn handed the rod to Dracon and then pulled off his hoodie. Underneath was a white tank top stained red, which the prince quickly peeled from his still bleeding body. He wrung it out, bodily fluids dripping onto the floor, tore it into several strands, and wrapped the driest one around the end of the rail. Elrik cracked open the second lighter and poured a little of the fluid on the shirt, and then he flicked his lighter open and lit the wad of clothing. It took a few seconds, but their makeshift torch burned brightly.
They pressed on, always fearing the torch would fizzle out.
Finally, Dracon stopped. He motioned for Elrik and Jaysynn to follow him. Elrik held the last flickers of the torch above their heads as Dracon examined the wall, slowly running his hand across it, searching. His hand stopped and pressed a button disguised as a brick. A metallic grinding announced that a door was unlatched and a small gap appeared in the wall. Dracon pulled the hidden door open and gestured for Jaysynn and Elrik to go in. They entered. Dracon closed the door behind them and it latched shut.
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