Tunnel Bombs

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The bomb detonated.

Screams echoed throughout the complex system of tunnels. My heart pounded more loudly than my feet on the hard, rocky floor.

I ran through the dark tunnel, turning away from the horrific sounds. I stumbled over loose rocks, scraping my elbows and knees, but I kept running. Tears streamed down my cheeks, but i kept running. I promised myself that I wouldn't stop running until I reached fresh air.

Finally, I spotted light at the end of the tunnel (literally). If it was possible, I started running even faster. Finally, I stopped and looked up towards sunlight.

Sunlight. I stopped for a minute, soaking in the warm, comforting rays. It felt so good compared to the cold, damp tunnel air. Looking over my shoulder constantly out of fear that someone was hiding in the shadows, I tied a complex knot in a length of rope that I produced from my backpack. I then lassoed a jagged rocky outcrop with the rope and tightened it in a practiced maneuver. I tied the other end of the rope securely through the belt loops of my jeans. I began pulling myself up, using crevasses in the rough, rocky wall as handholds and footholds. I carefully climbed up the 15 feet to fresh air.

As I left the musty, claustrophobic tunnels and climbed up onto a green, well-kept lawn, I looked back longingly. I thought about all the people still in the tunnels, trapped. Part of me wanted to go back and help them, but the other part of me wanted to leave that place forever and forget about it.

But I knew that I would never forget about it. It would haunt me forever. And I would always feel guilty that I ran away without even helping anyone.

As my common sense fought my conscience, I walked over to an old, rotting shed on the opposite side of the lawn.

The doors to the shed were padlocked, but, curious to see if I could find anything useful, I walked around to the back of the shed, where there was a small window filled with cobwebs. It appeared to be painted shut.

Using my Swiss army knife, I scraped away the old white paint which was already peeling off the wooden walls of the shed. I freed the window from paint and managed to thrust the window up. I could only see the dark outlines of various tools, shelves, and boxes. So, I decided to climb in and try to find something useful in the shed. I would need anything I could get to live out here on my own.

So, propping the window open with my backpack, I hoisted myself up onto the windowsill, which was about 4 feet off the ground. I squeezed through the small window feet first, and I managed to land in the shed without slamming the window on my face. I cringed as the window slammed shut just as I landed on top of a pile of boxes. Unfortunately, my backpack landed outside of the shed. However, my main concern was that someone had probably heard the loud crash of the window.

I sat crouched down behind a few boxes in silence. I strained my ears to hear if anyone was coming outside.

For the first few minutes, I heard nothing. As I was about to get up, I heard footsteps plodding down the stone pathway towards the shed.

I ducked my head and silently prayed that no one would discover me.

A single lightbulb slowly flickered on, and a tall, burly man stepped into the shed. His dark brown stern eyes scanned the shed. His eyes met my guilty eyes peeking out from behind a stack of crates.

"Hello, young man," the tall man said in an unexpectedly soft, gentle voice.

I stood up, knowing I had already been discovered. My hands went up in an innocent gesture.

"Please come here," the man said calmly.

I slowly walked forward, clumsily tripping over garden implements strewn across the floor. The man put a strong hand on my shoulder and said, "I'm going to have to call the police."

I decided not to struggle because he could easily snap my neck in his huge hands. Instead I tried to negotiate. "Wait! I can explain."

The man just stood there, keeping a firm grip on my shoulder just in case I tried to escape. "Well," I started, "I needed food." After I said it, I realized how lame an excuse it was.

His calm, concerned eyes looked down at me. "Where is your family?"

My eyes teared up. "They're, they're...well, I don't know." The man was surprisingly patient.

"Follow me inside and I'll get you some food," he said, and he guided me out of the door of the shed. I remembered my backpack, which was slumped against the side of the shed. I decided that this wasn't the best time to go get it, though. The man might think I was trying to escape.

I just realized that I didn't know the man's name. "I'm Mason," I said awkwardly. "Mason Brindza."

"Logan Larson," he replied quietly, leading me into a small stone house. He had to duck his head underneath the doorframe.

We entered and walked down a short hardwood-floored hallway before entering the kitchen. The kitchen had one small table; an island; a refrigerator and freezer; and a bookshelf along one wall, which was filled with old books and papers.

Logan reached for a wireless phone on the counter. "Wait! I'll go back!" I shouted before Logan could call the police. I hated the police and I didn't trust them after what had just happened.

"Go back where?" Logan replied, startled by my sudden outburst.

"To the tunnels."

At this simple answer, the man looked at me sympathetically and whispered, "No. Not there."

I tried to inject confidence into my voice. "I want to." As I said it, I made up my mind. I did want to go back there. I wanted to help. To at least try. I would have never been able to live knowing that I had abandoned everyone I had ever known and everyone who had ever loved me, right when they needed me. Needed me as a friend, as a family, as a community. We would do this together.

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After giving Logan the little money I had in my pocket, he gave me a few canned goods and a bottle of water. I thanked Logan for letting me go, and I headed out the side door and retrieved my backpack. I stashed my rations in a side pocket and shrugged the backpack on.

I ventured over to the cluster of shrubs and rocks where there was a small crevasse leading down to the tunnels.

As I started to lower myself back into the tunnels, I longingly looked back up at the beautiful, unpolluted world. As I landed on the dusty, rocky ground, I thought, 'I might never live to see that place again.' I may have just lost my last chance to escape that horrible, ruined underground world.