For this assignment, we were to create a mainly character-driven short story. The story could be anything we wanted, with any characters or settings.
Underworld
A short story by Pierre-Henri Joubert
July 17, 2048.
My shoes hammer the ground as I run for my life. Behind me, a stampede of perfectly synchronized boots beat the drums of death. The tunnel, normally so wide and empty, now turns into a tight corridor, pushing in from all sides, preventing escape. As I realize the impossibility of escape, I slow my run to a jog, then to a walk, then to nothing. I turn, accepting my fate for about a quarter of a second before I spot a small crevice in the subway wall. Leaping in, I squeeze my already paper-thin torso inwards, my ribs squealing in protest and pounding away at my nerve endings. I ignore them – I have long since learned to shut out the needs of my body. The only need I now obey is the need for survival, and as the stampede clanks past in metal boots and armor, I hold my breath and pray to whatever depraved deity would allow this world to be.
Twenty years ago, our world was forever changed when they came. They were not like the others – They were not intimidated by our weapons, not faltering before our network of allies, not pausing before our resolve. And when they won, they won permanently. My family and friends are all gone, either dead or worked to the bone on the surface of what was once Manhattan. The only place left for us to attempt to live like human beings were the subway tunnels, where the situation fell apart within months. Food, heat, and shelter from the outside was our only priorities now. All traces of humanity had been swept away by these invaders, except for a few dedicated men and women that fought to protect the ancient ways of morality, charity, and goodwill.
I fancy myself to be one of those men. Men of integrity and spirit, pushing forward when there is death and suffering all around them. Like those men, I help others when I can, sharing the few things I scavenge during my travels through the tunnels.
As they pass by my hiding spot, I let out a sigh and push myself out like a worm from the earth. I know not what birds of prey may be circling, but I know that I cannot stay. I push onward down the dark tunnel, pulling the lantern from my belt and igniting the flame with a flint. I hold the fire close. It is the only thing protecting me from being swallowed by the dark and cold of the tunnels. Eventually, I reach a small encampment of two men. At first they are suspicious, but as I explain that I have no weapons other than my pocket knife, they visibly relax. They seem relatively friendly, and they agree to let me stay so long as I give up the blade. I hand it over, then pull my jacket tight and drift to sleep under their roof made of sheet metal and plastic.
The water on the wall drips melodically, the smell reminding me of dew on the grass in the morning.
July 21, 2048.
After days of searching, I have finally found the two men that robbed me in my sleep. I decide the best course of action is a negotiation. I will talk to them and show them my good intentions, and they will see me for who I am – Not a rat living on scraps, but a man, a human being, struggling to survive. Approaching them, my plan hits an obstacle as they turn and laugh at me. Their voices crack like the bark of a falling tree, scratching and breaking and drowning out all else.
“You've got some balls, kid. I thought you'd have learned your lesson, but I guess you're back for more.”
“Give me back my things, please.”
“You know, usually when we do this people go the opposite direction. I gotta say, you're an odd one. So what are you? Crazy? Brave? Naïve as hell? 'Cause, honestly, you gotta be dumb as hell to follow us. D'you even know who the hell we are?”
“I need my things. Now. I don't want any trouble.”
“You really don't listen, do ya, kid? Me and my brother here, we're gonna kick your ass. That is, unless you turn around right now and head in the opposite direction. Scram.”
“I need my thi-”
The man's fist hitting my jaw echoes through the tunnel when it collides. Falling to the ground, I have but a moment to recover before his boot runs into my ribs, forcing me onto my side. At that moment, I look at them and realize they are no longer men, but beasts. My hands search and find hard stones, which I grasp and send crashing into the knees of the closest man. A skyscraper is demolished as he falls, and I scramble to my feet while the remaining man flicks out a switchblade. I stand with the dark stone in my hand, waiting for him to make a move. As he leaps at me, I crouch and step to the side. The blade misses me by inches, and as the man stumbles past, I swing the concrete at his head. There is a resounding crunch, audible even above the screams, as it shatters his skull.
Standing in the dimly lit tunnel, I watch as the blood seeps from the man's head into his brain, suffocating his neural systems with their own sustenance. The man gurgles and croaks every now and again. He takes a few minutes to die, in which time the other man is able to crawl away into the darkness. I am transfixed on the spectacle of my first victim, the embodiment of my first break from morality and humanity.
The man dies a slow and unnecessary death in the black and desolate underground, where none shall remember him. None but I.
September 27, 2048.
Walking through the winding and twisting tunnels, I keep to the shadows. The men and women that pass by pay me no heed, and I return them the favor. I keep my pistol loaded in my belt. It seems to deter those that would dare test my will to survive.
The tunnels here grown narrower, the walls more damp. Precipitation drips from the ceiling, slides down the walls. I gather some in a bottle, then continue on.
Around the next bend, I see light reflecting and bouncing from the pipes along the sides of the tunnel. I hasten my step slightly. If there is light, there may be a settlement where I could convince people into giving up their precious food. Perhaps also a drink stronger than the stuff of the tunnel walls.
Before I can reach the turn, however, two men leap from my destination. Waving their arms, they hurry towards me with wide eyes. I immediately cock back the hammer on my handgun.
“Stay away!”
“Turn back!”
I grip the handle of my gun tightly. The men remind me of others, but I cannot remember who. I answer them curtly.
“What are you talking about?”
“Go back where you came from! Ahead is an evil place, where men go blind and lose their minds!”
I scoff at them. Who are they to tell me where I can and cannot go?
“I am going ahead.”
“You don't understand! Turn back before it is too late!”
“I am going ahead.”
The man runs up to me, getting too close for comfort. His breath wafts over me as he yells, a smell that reminds me of death, and the rotting insides of a corpse.
“RUN! YOU MUST NOT-”
The stench of his breath comes out for one last time in a hacking cough. The tunnel is deathly quiet, save for the clinking of the brass casing on the floor. The man's face disappears for a moment amongst a cloud of smoke trailing from my gun.
After a moment, the man collapses, leaving the other in front of me. His eyes are wide, his mouth moving like a fish gasping for air. I look at him for a moment, then get irritated by his stare. My gun barks out a second time and I am at peace.
I walk on towards the end of the tunnel, turning the bend. For a moment I fear that the man had been correct, as I am suddenly blinded. However, after a few moments of blinking, my vision clears. And that is when I see it.
Large, curved columns stand before me, brown and magnificent against the yellow-green hair that springs forth from the ground. Orange, red, and yellow debris flies through the air, some of the pieces floating down from the heads of the columns, which split into many different pillars, all curving and reaching upwards to the ceiling, which is blue and white and golden.
I stand still for a moment, tears flowing freely from my eyes. It takes a few minutes for me to make the connection with the scene before me and my childhood. I slowly remember, and recollect the bits and pieces lost from me in the dark.
Autumn.
It's just as I remembered it. The trees, the grass, the sky.
It's beautiful.
The flood of memories is overwhelming, my mind drowning in ecstasy. And the smell, my God. Sweet and palpable and amazing. All my life's work is for naught, as nature can conjure up such magic with no influence of mankind. I yearn to live in such a scene, frozen in time and joy and happiness.
I turn, heading back into the tunnel.
Descending into darkness, I return to the real world. There is no place for me out there, in the realm of my subconscious.
I can never go back.