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That’s not helping our odds part two.
The flashlight stops on something I’d say is rather confusing—although it does remind me that I shouldn’t even be surprised at this point. A sewer grate. Again, the light refuses to pay us a visit, leaving me to fend for myself as I desperately try to see what’s under it. The only visible thing in the man-sized hole is a rusty metal ladder embedded into the wall.
A sewer? Really?
Is this Haze’s way of telling me I’m full of shit?
“What are we doing? Hanging out with the rats?” I ask when Kendrick easily pulls the grate up and uncovers the way to hell.
“You’ll see” is all he says.
He begins to go down the ladder. Then comes Blake’s turn, followed by Alex’s, and finally, mine. As soon as my feet connect with the ground, I’m overwhelmed by an atrocious smell, my dinner threatening to make an appearance. On the bright side—there is no sign of water anywhere, which is good. Haze ruined my idea of love. I don’t need him to ruin my shoes, too.
When Will puts the grate back into place and goes down the ladder, as well, I catch myself wondering what would happen if someone were to drop a block of cement over the grate. Would we be stuck here forever?
“Come on.” Kendrick motions and walks ahead.
I follow them unwillingly. We take numerous turns, venturing deeper and deeper into the tunnels. I try to keep up, but I know I wouldn’t find my way back if I had to. When I make out a massive concrete door in the distance, I understand that I got it all wrong. This isn’t a sewer.
It never was.
“Welcome to the Downside,” Will says as Kendrick pulls on the door with a groan that indicates how heavy it is.
It squeaks open, revealing what seems to be a completely different universe.
People.
A lot of people.
I have no idea what that door is made of, but it sure is soundproof, considering that I never, and I mean never, heard any of the numerous voices on the other side. Everywhere I look, all I can think is Cesspool of Unsavory Characters.
A buzzing sound emanates from the white neon lights illuminating the room. Spread across the metallic ceiling, they flicker repeatedly, increasing the creepy vibe by a million. There are so many questions I want to ask, but I can’t.
I want to know who built this place. Is it only used for the street fights? How did they manage to keep it undercover for so long? One look around the secret lair is all it takes for some of my questions to answer themselves.
Drug dealers, pimp, junkies, muscle heads.
The Downside isn’t just for fighting.
As we make our way through the crowd, heads start to turn one by one.
Kendrick whispers, “Don’t let them see your fear.”
I do my best to ignore the intense anger and hatred pointed at us, keeping my eyes glued to the ground.
In the distance, a dense crowd is gathered in a circle, waiting for something. And that something is the fight. Soon, people begin to part, stepping out of our way to let us through, all the while making sure to stare at us in the most hateful way a human possibly can.
A couple of meters stand between us and the center of the circle.
“What’s the North Side doing here?” Blake says through gritted teeth.
My gaze travels upward to the large flock of unknown and diverse faces. Kendrick wasn’t lying when he said people came from everywhere to see the show.
When I see Ian, leader of the North Side and Haze’s ally, I can’t stop the thumping in my chest. Our eyes meet and he smirks, probably thinking of all the different ways he could murder me.
I peel my eyes away, fighting the burning need to look for Haze’s face in the crowd. The person I see instead is Tanner. My breathing increases as I deny him eye contact. I can feel his gaze stinging in my skull. Then, after what seems to be an eternity, Kendrick puts an end to my misery and comes to an abrupt stop. Blake, Alex, and Will do the same.
“Finally.”
