The Whittier Trilogy

by Michael W. Layne

  After rounding one particularly sharp turn, Trent came to a sudden halt. He actually smiled as he looked down at one of the Troll’s footprints heading in the direction from which they had just come. The track was at least a day old and had started to be dulled by shifting dirt and debris.

  It wasn’t much, but since the tunnel was sloping uphill again, he figured that by following the tracks, they had at least a decent chance of finding their way back to the Troll’s lair. And once they made it there, Trent could easily get them to the underground garage with the motion sensors and then to the surface.

  As he shone his flashlight on the giant footprint, a small rivulet of water sliced through the footprint and pooled around the soles of Trent’s left shoe.

  “Shit,” Zana said.

  Trent looked around and directed his flashlight’s beam up the tunnel.

  The trickle was quickly turning into a small stream of water.

  Regardless of what was going on down in the tunnels, Trent was sure of one thing—it was raining above in Las Vegas tonight, and soon the tunnels were going to be a watery death trap.

  “What do you do when the tunnels flood?” Trent asked Zana as they started running again.

  “We’re not usually this far in,” she said. “We either bounce to the streets and hang around until the water goes down, or we get on top of one of the platforms like the one where my camp is. The water hardly ever gets that high. It just flows past us like an underground river for a while.”

  “Any recommendations, considering I don’t see any convenient platforms we can stand on?”

  “Nope. I think we’re pretty much fucked,” Zana said, speeding up her pace.

  “Hey, you guys need to slow down,” the skinny blonde said. “You can’t leave me behind. I need my million dollars!”

  Neither Trent nor Zana responded to the blonde.

  Even as the blonde clung to her foolish hope, the woman in the large T-shirt focused on what was really important, pumping her body as hard as it would go and somehow managing to stay within ten or fifteen feet of Trent and Zana, even as the water spread across the full width of the floor.

  Within minutes, Trent and Zana were recklessly splashing through ankle-deep water.

  Trent ventured a look over his shoulder and saw the blonde sink to her knees, too weak to even stand at this point. He looked back to the tunnel in front of him, but he couldn’t shake the image of her thin body being washed away, right into the waiting arms of the Troll.

  Even as he ran, he felt the tightness of an approaching panic attack. He pushed it back down, but he could not shake the sudden sense of being trapped that was pervading his senses.

  Even as he dealt with his own rising anxiety, he thought he could hear the gurgled screams of the fat man from far back in the tunnel system.

  “Did you hear that?” he said to Zana.

  “Hear what?” she said, with a confused look on her face, but Trent did not respond.

  For a split second, he entertained the thought that he was going mad—that it was just his guilt persecuting him for leaving the man there to die solely for the purpose of buying he and Zana a few more precious minutes of time.

  Whether or not he had imagined hearing the death of the fat man, he was sure that the Troll would catch up with them soon.

  And when that happened, the blonde who had now fallen behind and was out of Trent’s line of sight, would also provide a few additional minutes of distraction before it was just the woman in the white T-shirt left as a barrier between them and the Troll.

  The water was now up to the lower part of their calves and still rising, and Trent accepted the fact that there was not enough time to make it back to the underground parking lot before being washed away by the current. Between the Troll and the water, Trent’s logical mind was beginning to give up hope of surviving the night.

  But something deeper inside him kept pushing forward—something more basic and primal that would do anything to survive and which had nothing to do with logic.

  He raced even faster, desperate to find some place—any place—where he and Zana could safely wait out the flood that was coming.

  As they turned another corner, the regular-sized tunnel dead-ended, and the only way forward was through a four-foot tunnel similar to the one Trent had traversed the day before. That segment had ended up being a quarter of a mile long, but Trent had no way of knowing how long the tunnel in front of him went on before opening back up into a chamber with higher ceilings.

  Trent and Zana stopped and looked at the tunnel entrance for only a few seconds before Trent moved forward, ready to take his chances.

  Zana stopped him.

  “Trent,” Zana yelled over the rising noise of the water, “can’t we stay here and take our chances on this side of the tunnel?”

  Trent shook his head.

  “Only if you think we can swim past the Troll,” Trent said.

  The danger was growing with each passing second, and Trent knew that he and Zana had to get through the four-foot high tunnel in front of them as fast as possible, or they’d be stuck and soon be at the mercy of the water or the Troll—or both.

  Trent grabbed Zana’s hand.

  “Shit. I don’t want to do this either,” he said. “But this is the only way. If it gets too bad, take a deep breath and let the current bring you back here, and then we’ll deal with being stuck on this side of this tunnel. But first, we have to try.”

  Zana didn’t even look at Trent. She just ran ahead into the smaller tunnel, sloshing as quickly as she could through the now knee-deep water.

  Trent followed right behind her, and the woman in the white T-shirt filed in behind him.

  Now it was simply a race to see whether they could make it to the other end of the tunnel segment before the water completely flooded the passage, or whether the current would sweep their dead bodies back to the Troll as the creature steadily drew closer to their position.

  Chapter 40

  THE LIGHT FROM Trent’s flashlight bounced around the claustrophobic tunnel as the three of them sped forward as fast as they could.

  Even though Trent had to hunch over more than the two women, his body easily propelled itself along, and he had to consciously force himself to go much slower than he was capable of in order to stay behind Zana.

  Trent’s logical mind said that the segment they were in could easily be just a quarter of a mile long, like the one he had traversed the day before. His brain also told him that the tunnel they were in at the moment could go on much farther than that. There was just no guarantee.

  Although the light helped them see where they were going, it was not bright enough to completely punch through the utter darkness that surrounded them or to allow them to see the end of the tunnel.

  The passageway itself was just wide enough for two to walk abreast, but the three of them continued in a single file with Zana in the lead. With each step, however, it seemed that Zana was having a harder time pushing her way through the water.

  As the water rose above Trent’s knees, he squeezed past Zana and took her hand, pulling her along with him. Even though Trent could feel the water rushing around him, threatening to run away with his legs each time he raised one to move it forward, his body felt strong, and he cut through the torrent with relative ease.

  A backward glance past the weakening Zana revealed the woman in the white T-shirt floundering and splashing to keep up—but she was still there. From the way she was trying to catch her breath, it was obvious she was having a difficult time keeping her rising panic under control and that she was on the verge of hyperventilating.

  Trent sympathized with the woman since he had experienced a similar wash of anxiety just moments before entering this segment of the tunnel. Strangely for Trent, however, now that he was in the tunnel and giving it his all, his anxiety had settled down, and he was completely and almost calmly focused on the task ahead.

  Trent had counted 265 steps so far as the dar
k, rising water churned toward them. Using his own baseline of 2095 steps per mile, that meant that they had been in the small tunnel for just over an eighth of a mile so far—a little over half way to the end of the tunnel, if it was indeed only a quarter of a mile long.

  The water rose even faster and was now up to the middle of Trent’s thigh.

  Because he had to stoop forward so much to fit into the tunnel, this meant that the water level was also only a foot or so beneath his face.

  Trent looked back again to check on Zana, and for the first time, he saw real fear in her eyes.

  Between the rising water and the strengthening current, their progress has slowed to what felt like a crawl, reminding Trent of what it was like trying to run in a swimming pool. Trent still felt strong—stronger than he had ever felt before. He even thought that he might be able to swim against the current if he were alone, but instead he continued to walk, focusing all of his extra energy and strength on pulling Zana along.

  The rushing water was almost deafening at this point, but Trent still looked back to the woman in the white T-shirt when he heard her start to scream as her panic finally took over. She was determined and had a strong spirit, but she had reached her limit.

  Against his better judgment, Trent pushed Zana in front of him and reached out his hand to the other woman. She grabbed at his hand like it was a lifeline offered to her from a boat at sea.

  Trent pushed Zana and pulled the other woman, while holding his flashlight in his hand that was in the small of Zana’s back. He was the engine now, propelling their entire group forward as the water rose even nearer to the tunnel’s ceiling.

  After only a few seconds, his submerged flashlight went out, and the trio was left in utter darkness.

  Trent knew that they were far past the point where they could safely let go and be carried back to the beginning of the tunnel, and now without any light, there was no way for them to see if they were getting closer to the far end of the passageway.

  And even though Trent still had more strength to spare, even he wouldn’t be able to breath for very long once the water had completely filled the tunnel.

  With the water only six inches from the ceiling, they had to alter the way they walked, unable to fully utilize their cores while struggling to stretch their necks back enough to keep their mouths above the water line. Even as they did so, water continually splashed into their mouths, causing them to sputter and to struggle for full breaths of air.

  Trent moved ahead of Zana again and motioned for both of the women to copy him as he took a deep breath and crouched down under the water. Once submerged, he drove himself forward for a few yards before bursting into the air again and taking another large gulp of air.

  Both Zana and the woman in the T-shirt immediately understood and tried the same. Trent positioned himself between the two of them again, doing his best to help them move forward. As much as he didn’t want to, he knew he needed to stop helping the other woman and focus all of his attention on Zana alone.

  Just as the water was only three inches from the ceiling, the woman in the white T-shirt seemed to rally with renewed strength, submerging herself, pushing forward past Trent, and bursting forth for air, her head tilted all the way back so that her mouth could gulp for air in the inches above the water.

  Trent concentrated on pushing Zana forward.

  The next time Trent went up for more air, the water was so close to the ceiling that he realized this would be his last breath.

  He inhaled as deeply as possible and then submerged again, driving Zana forward with all his strength.

  His actions were still calm and measured, but even Trent could taste bile in the back of his throat as he realized that they were completely submerged with no more air left to draw upon.

  For what might have been minutes, but what felt like much longer, the three of them walked underwater, through a strange, sensory deprived world of floating trash and debris as Trent’s lungs soon felt close to bursting.

  Ignoring the woman who was now behind him again, Trent closed his eyes and kept pushing Zana who was still walking forward but sluggishly at best.

  Trent started to slow down as well, and it seemed that the tunnel would never end.

  Chapter 41

  WITH ONLY A FEW seconds of air left in his lungs at best, Trent went to place his hand on the tunnel’s ceiling for additional leverage as he readied himself for a final push...

  But the ceiling was not there.

  He opened his eyes and looked up as he grabbed both women and jumped upward with all his might.

  It seemed like an eternity, but within seconds, the three of them burst through the water’s surface.

  They had been so focused on walking forward while submerged that they had not even noticed that they had already exited the passageway.

  They gasped and gulped at the air as they now struggled to stay afloat in the larger chamber. The current threatened to pull them back down toward the tunnel from which they had just narrowly escaped, as Trent moved the two women against the wall so they would have some purchase amidst the swirling chaos.

  Trent’s eyes had already adjusted to the near pitch darkness of the tunnel, and he found that he could see better, once again, than he thought he would be able to.

  He assessed the situation as the other two rested, clinging to ridges in the tunnel wall as the water continued to rise, although not as quickly now.

  Ahead, maybe a hundred yards or so, Trent detected the faintest glimmer of light in the otherwise pitch-black tunnel. And it looked to be natural light.

  “We need to head for that light,” he said. “Just stick to the sides of the tunnel and move along the seam line in the cement.”

  The women were breathing more normally now, but looked exhausted beyond their limits. Still, when Trent started along, they followed almost mechanically, with not much other choice than to trust him again with their lives.

  Their progress was slow, but neither of the women complained. Trent suspected that they were both feeling almost safe at this point, since there was now a quarter mile tunnel full of water between them and the Troll.

  Gradually, they moved closer to the light until Trent could see that it was coming from a side tunnel that opened up to the right of the chamber they were in.

  Trent couldn’t help but smile as he arrived at the tunnel and swung himself around to enter it. Even though the bottom half of the tunnel was submerged, some of the graffiti looked familiar to him.

  The women followed, and as they made their way into the tunnel, in relatively short order they were able to touch the concrete floor with their feet, as the seven-foot high tunnel continued to slope upward.

  Soon, they were walking in thigh-deep water—then calf-deep water.

  At last, they found themselves on dry tunnel floor again, and both of the women allowed themselves a smile.

  Zana actually laughed softly.

  Trent’s face, however, remained stoic as he saw ahead in the near distance that which he had both been hoping for and dreading to find—the slab that was the door to the Troll’s den.

  Now that Trent’s adrenaline was wearing off, he felt suddenly tired and weak from their ordeal in the waterlogged tunnel. Some of the primal energy that had been fueling his flight was now draining from his body, and his logical mind once again emerged.

  It was time to think of a plan again.

  Zana and he were safe for the moment, but the Troll was only temporarily stuck on the other side of that short segment of tunnel, waiting for the water levels to drop so that it could resume its pursuit.

  They needed a long-term solution, and Trent didn’t have one.

  Without a word, he leaned into the familiar stone slab and pushed. The door was heavy, but despite his weariness, he was still more than strong enough to slide the massive slab forward until there was a gap wide enough for him, Zana, and the woman in the white T-shirt to enter.

  Even though he knew it wouldn’t s
low the Troll down once it caught up to them, Trent closed the stone slab behind them, then led the two women down the short, narrow hallway to the Troll’s lair. The passageway itself was dimly lit, but as they passed into the main room, the moonlight filtering in from the skylight above made the central chamber seem bright by comparison.

  Trent watched as the women’s mouths opened in disbelief as they took in the scene for the first time.

  Zana followed close to Trent as he stepped carefully through the hay-strewn room, crunching human bones beneath his feet with each footfall.

  The woman in the white T-shirt remained near the darkness off the outskirts of the room. She had been through a lot already that night, but seeing where the Troll actually lived was too much for her, and she hesitated to come any closer.

  Trent was about to assure the woman that it was safe to enter all the way, but before he could say anything, a loud scraping noise filled the room. Quicker than Trent could imagine, the woman in the white T-shirt disappeared into the darkness of the hallway, snatched backwards by an unseen force.

  Her screams were cut short within seconds.

  Even though Trent couldn’t see the attacker, there was only one possible explanation—the Troll somehow had made it through the water-filled tunnel and had found them already.

  Trent turned to Zana and pulled her closer to him as they both stepped farther into the center of the room.

  With no warning, Trent turned around and jumped up, grabbing hold of the edge of the raised platform behind them. He swung himself up faster than Zana was able to process, and then reached down to help her up.

  She jumped as high as she could and took hold of Trent’s hands as he lifted her up to the platform.

  Now that they were both on top of the concrete loft, Trent grabbed a human femur bone sticking out of a pile of hay and stood to his full height, facing the entranceway to the room.

  Nothing moved in the darkness beyond and everything was silent, but Trent could feel the Troll staring at him.

  At last, Trent heard the heavy breathing of the creature, and its nine feet of long, sinewy muscles beneath its worn, calloused skin as it slowly emerged from the darkness of the hallway.