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A sharp drop sent my stomach to my throat. Occasional grates in the ceiling offered a glimpse of sunlight, but it was gone in a flash. I had no way of knowing when I passed the boundaries of the quarter, and I was going too fast to stop. I’d just have to hope I could survive what my father had twenty years ago.
I was sure I’d gone too far when the tunnel plummeted downward. Just as the ground leveled out, I slammed into something hard. The water flowed over my head and into my lungs. My hands gripped for a hold, landing on rusted metal bars. I pulled myself up to standing, but the water rushed against my legs, threatening to knock me back under the torrent. I held on, coughing and gasping for air. Dim sunlight shone through a ceiling grate like the one I’d entered, but it was on the other side of the bars.
Clearly, things had changed in the past twenty years.
I shivered in the waist-high flow. The bars of the grate were vertical, wide enough for most debris to get through but too narrow for me. I looked back up the tunnel, but it was close to a sheer drop and the walls were slick with algae.
I groped under the water and all around the bars, searching for something useful. My hands landed on a pile of rocks. I picked up the largest one, hoping I could use it to loosen the bars.
When I pulled it into the light, I screamed.
It wasn’t a rock. It was a skull.
I gasped and dropped it, my lungs tightening until I could hardly pull in a breath. Someone had died here, who knows how long ago.
The same thing would happen to me.
I tried to rein in my panic before my world closed in.
Think.
My back rested against the bars. I closed my eyes and tried to pretend the sound of water was nothing but waves in the ocean, but the dank mildew was nothing like the salty sea breeze.
My bag tugged against my shoulder, dragged by the rushing flow. Although the sharkskin was waterproof, my fall under the water had filled it and soaked my belongings. All I had were a few slippery knives and the bag itself.
But that was something.
I took out a knife and set to work, wrapping my bag’s sturdy strap several times around two of the rusty bars. With shivering hands, I twisted it and pulled hard, but the bars held strong.
I took out a knife and wedged the handle into the twisted strap. But that gave me nothing to hold but the blade. I thought of my father, blaming him for insisting that I keep them so well sharpened. I threw the knife back into the bag. It wouldn’t do any good.
My feet shifted, rolling over something in the water. I backed into the tunnel wall, shuddering. I couldn’t pretend they were rocks when I knew otherwise. All I could think of was the person who’d gotten trapped here and died a terrible and lonely death.
Wait.
Bones. Before I could change my mind, I crouched down and reached into the water. My hand searched the debris on the floor of the tunnel. I tried not to think about what I touched. I had to be strong if I didn’t want to end up as a pile of bones while a war above ground destroyed everyone I cared about.
My fingers wrapped around something long and thin. I pulled it out of its place where it was trapped against the bars. It was white and as long as my thigh. I twisted the bone into the strap and began to rotate it. The bars started to creak and bend.
A laugh escaped my throat until I remembered I was holding someone’s femur.
I twisted the bone harder and harder, squeezing the bars together with each turn. When they wouldn’t go any farther, I unwrapped the strap and moved it to the next pair of bars. I strained and twisted as the rush of water tried to sweep my legs out from under me. My arms grew weak and my hands slipped, but I wouldn’t give up. Only a little bit more.
The strap tightened, compressing the bars inward. Water swirled through the wide opening. It could be enough.
Before dropping the bone, I whispered a thank you to the poor dead soul who saved my life so I didn’t have to suffer the same fate. I unwrapped the strap of the bag and put it over my head and shoulder. Then I squeezed between the narrow bars.
The grate in the ceiling was only a few steps away. The ground of the tunnel leveled out, but the water still flowed with enough strength to sweep me downward. I held tight to the bars with one hand and reached up with the other. One finger managed to wrap around the ceiling grate and I lunged for it with both hands, gripping tight.
I shoved the grate up and slid it out of place. The cloudy sky above was calm as an ordinary day. I braced my boots against the tunnel and lifted myself out of the deadly aqueduct.
I gasped and dropped to my knees, trying to still my trembling body. The grate had led me to the quiet Avenue of the Immovables, near the noble mansions on the east side of the city. I ducked as a carriage drove past on the opposite end of the wide street. Then I returned the grate to its place and hurried uphill before anyone noticed the soaking wet girl who’d just materialized out of the ground.
* * *
My clothes had driedby the time I stopped at the edge of a brick-lined alleyway near the Irvine library. My fabric scrap had been washed away in the aqueduct, so my bag was on display, making me feel particularly vulnerable. I rested a hand over it, trying to cover the one thing that tied me to the sketch. My hair and clothing were different enough, but I had no idea how much Mrs. Whitting had told them.
With her as the whistleblower, Law Enforcers would be searching for me around here, too. But, if Graham was a man of his word, he’d be returning to study today—unless his mother forbade him, which was perfectly likely. I truly had no idea if he’d be here or if I’d be able to get to him, but I was willing to try just about anything.
