Up From the Depths by J. R. Jackson Read Free Book Online Page B

got to ask, Ski,” Pruitt said. “Who did you piss off to get us assigned to the sewers?”
    “It doesn’t matter,” Ski said.
    “It kind of matters to us,” Pruitt said, stopping and looking back at his team leader. “This shitty job has us living down here in a goddamn maintenance room eating MREs. So it does matter.”
    Ski stopped and looked at the team’s designated marksman. Pruitt was normally calm and collected but since their arrival at the museum and being exposed to some of the amenities inside then having those amenities taken away had made him and the rest of the team sullen and surly.
    “We do as we’re ordered,” Ski said, stepping closer to Pruitt. “Until someone tells us otherwise,” he added as he stepped past and moved further into the tunnels. Graham and Jiminez gave Pruitt a look then followed their team leader.
    Luzetski had stopped at a junction. To the left was a narrow outflow tunnel, too narrow for anyone larger then a cat to get through that was covered with a very sturdy looking heavy metal grate. To the right was a larger tunnel that led towards downtown. Wheeler had told Ski that there was a large grate in that direction that had, so far, prevented any infected from getting to this area. Somewhere beyond that grate was a small pumping station. Ski pulled out the hand drawn map and studied it under the glow of his mini Maglite. He glanced up and around until he found the marks and arrows that the previous unit assigned to this task had left.
    The tunnel to his right disappeared into darkness. Wheeler had mentioned that there was some WD-1 wire that the engineers had strung up about shoulder height on the walls along the service catwalk all the way to the main grate that they could use to hang chem-lights.
    “Jiminez, you got the duty,” Ski said. Jiminez, no longer carrying the team radio, was carrying boxes of long-life, break and shake Cyalume chemical light sticks. The corporal reached into the bag that was slung over his shoulder and removed one of the boxes. Letting his rifle hang by its sling, he tore open one end and pulled out a handful of the sticks passing them around to the team.
    “You know the drill,” Ski said. “One mounts the lights while the other provides cover.” There was some grumbling among the men but they soon focused on the task at hand. They worked in silence, mounting the sticks as the tunnel gradually brightened.
    “Hey,” Graham said. “I got something here.” Ski estimated that they were about halfway to the main grate. The tunnel behind them was well lit while the tunnel ahead was still dark.
    “What you got?” Ski asked.
    “Looks like a door. Maybe some kind of maintenance space,” Graham said.
    “Check it,” Ski directed.
    “Locked,” Graham said.
    “Leave it alone and keep moving,” Ski said. That door wasn’t on the map that Ski had. As long as it was locked, it wasn’t an issue. Graham removed a piece of chalk from a pocket and marked a large X on the doorframe before moving on.
    “You hear that?” Pruitt asked. Jiminez and Pruitt were a little further down the tunnel then Ski and Graham. They all stopped and listened for sounds. Several tense seconds ticked by with nothing but the flowing water breaking the silence.
    “Keep moving,” Ski said. “Probably just rats or dripping water.”
    Sierra-3 continued mounting the light sticks until the large grate at the end of their tunnel materialized out of the darkness. The bars were close enough together to prevent debris from flowing through the tunnels and causing damage. Pruitt and Jiminez mounted their last light stick then waited for Graham and Ski to catch up.
    “Hey, Ski,” Pruitt said as his team leader finished attaching the chemical light to the WD-1 strand that ran across the floor to ceiling grate.
    “Yeah,” Ski said, standing thigh deep in the water that was flowing through the bottom of the tunnel and expecting Pruitt to bust his balls again about their