Wetwork

By Simon Reef.

The drone scuttled down the tunnel, its crab-like form easily traversing the rubble and garbage that congested the undercity. It was up to its leg joints in water. It was close.  

The drone came to an open doorway and entered a concrete-walled room. Mats of bacterial and fungal growth sprawled over every surface like reeking blankets, fed by the misty air. A pipe had burst, and grey, sludgy water poured out. The drone scanned the pipe, calculated its length, and then retreated. Away from the utility hookup for the Heavenly Towers habitation compound, up along the walls, and out of the manhole cover, to the waiting maintenance van. It plugged itself into the onboard computer and began replaying its recorded footage.  

“There it is!” 

Johnny Ferrer paused the drone recording as Hong pointed to the broken length of pipe. “A 1-meter segment. Go grab one while I finish suiting up.” 

“Right...you really think we need all that heavy armor?” 

“You saw the drone’s environmental readings. There are no methane deposits in that section, but that’s the only good news. You go down there naked, you’re bathing in a chemical soup.” 

“Yeah, I know that. But couldn’t we just use eSuits? Why all the heavy armor?” 

Johnny rapped the metal carapace of his hazard suit. Hong looked at him, saying nothing for several seconds.  

“Johnny, you ever been in the bowls?” 

“No. I mean, I hear stories about what’s down there, but those are tales, right? We’re going 40 meters in, it’s not the jungle or anything.” 

Johnny’s tone got less confident as he watched Hong’s face. Hong shook his head. “Jonny, it IS the jungle. It’s a whole different world down there. You know Red, the senior manager? You know why he does desk work?” 

“Why?” 

“Because 5 years back he went down to patch a sewage line under the Bund. He came back pale as a sheet, swearing that he wasn’t going back down there in a million years. He turned over his helmet footage to the higher ups, didn’t show it to anyone else. Said what spooked him was stumbling on a giant centipede. It was hanging from the ceiling, as big around as a man, and it was eating a dog.” 

“And that spooked him?” 

“Well, that’s what he told everyone else. Then, two years later, we were out drinking, and he finally let loose. See, it wasn’t a dog the centipede was eating. It was one of the street kids that lives down there. Musta been no older than 12. From the bones around the area, it looked like he weren’t the first human the centipede had grabbed. Or the largest. Johnny, that was under the Bund. This place ain’t half as well-heeled. That’s why we’re suiting up. And that’s why we're bringing these along.” 

Hong passed a holster to Johnny. A hefty revolver was snugly nestled inside. Johnny attached it to his suit’s harness. 

They exited the van, lugging the pipe and toolkit with them. The armor made it easier, the servomotors whirring almost inaudibly as they bore the brunt of the weight. The two men walked to a metal door built into the side of the habitation complex. Hong placed his armored hand over the RFID scanner.  

*ERROR. CHIP READ MALFUNCTION* 

“Son of a-” Hong grunted, before unlocking his right gauntlet and passing his bare palm over the sensor. 

*ACCESS AUTHORIZED* 

“They say these suits don’t interfere with chip reading” Hong muttered as he resealed his gauntlet. “Buncha liars...” 

With a hiss, the door slowly swung open, revealing a rickety freight elevator, its yellow and black markings marred by rust.  

“Think it’ll work?” 

“If it doesn’t, this job will get more annoying.” 

The pair shuffled into the lift. As Johnny noted the last safety inspection was back in the 2060s, Hong pressed the down button. The machine groaned into life, and the rusting cage descended into the bowls.  

The door opened, and the two plumbers' tac-lights illuminated the tunnel. It was typical of the undercity: cramped, filthy, covered with cobwebs. Dripping pipes ran across the walls, rats scampering across them.  

Hong stepped out, and Johnny followed. To their left was a crumbling storefront, one of the buildings that had been filled in and buried when the city was raised above the encroaching waters. A funnel of webbing had been spun around the doorway, leading to a hole of dirt and rubble large enough to walk through. To their right, a concrete utility tunnel.  

“Hold up Johnny” Hong whispered through his helmet radio, as he took a large flare off his harness. Hong lit it and threw it at the funnel web. Briefly, a pair of jewel-like eyes glinted from the depths of the tunnel, before fleeing from the bright light.  

“That flare will burn for an hour or so. Come on, I don’t want to be down here too long.” 

They trudged on down the concrete passage, feet splashing through the puddles of sludgy water. The air grew steamier, kept from condensing on their suit visors by a coating of hydrophobic chemicals. Every creak or groan that echoed down the tunnel caused the men to startle. Once, when spooked by a sudden movement in the shadows, Johnny pulled his gun, only to find himself aiming at a fist-sized beetle lazily meandering down a pipe.  

After what seemed like hours (but was closer to five minutes), the pair reached the utility hookup.  

“The hell is this gunk?” Johnny groaned, as he pointed to a slightly pulsating glob of black growth. 

“Biofilm. It’s a mix of bacteria and fungus and other wonderful little critters that grow down here. It eats everything; sewage, old food, plastic waste, chemicals, even radiation.” 

“Does anything eat it?” 

“Yes, but let’s hope we don’t meet ‘em. Here, hand me the welding torch, the shut off valve is jammed with this crap.” 

Hong pointed to the faded red handle on the valve. It was coated in a thick web of biofilm. Johnny opened the tool kit, brought out the Salamander and passed it to Hong. He fiddled with the settings, attached the auxiliary fuel line, and pointed the business end towards the valve. A glut of fire shot forth, enveloping the handle. The biofilm crackled and hissed as it burned away.  

“Alright, it’s unstuck. Should be cool enough to touch with your armor, get the water turned off Johnny.” 

As Johnny shut the valve and the water pouring from the pipe slowed to a trickle, Hong inspected the section. “Bolts have rusted through, don’t think the power ratchet will dig them out. Gonna have to cut it off.” 

“Hey Hong, look at how it broke.” 

“How what broke?” 

“The pipe. This doesn’t look like it burst from the inside.” 

Hong bent down and inspected the underside. The breach ran along the length of the pipe, a jagged wound that looked as if the metal had been chiseled and filed away. 

Hong said nothing but loosened the strap on his holster. He then set the Salamander back to weld mode and began to cut away the broken pipe. Johnny glanced around the room. The door they came through was the only opening. At least, the only opening that something big could come through. There was a rusted vent to the left. Only about half a meter though. And a grate on the ground, into which the stew-like water was draining. And a large crack in the wall. It was even smaller than the vent though. Briefly, Johnny imagined some caustic giant amoeba oozing its way through. He loosened the strap on his holster.  

“Hey, give me a hand here.” 

Johnny turned and set about getting the broken segment off. They laid the ruined pipe against the wall, and fastened on the new with shiny bolts, which glinted in contrast to the tarnished and rusted contents of the room. After an hour of labor, they stepped back to admire the brand-new segment of pipe.  

“Okay Johnny, turn it on. Let’s see if there’s anything else we need to do.” 

Johnny grabbed the valve and began to crank. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. Every turn was accompanied by the increasing rush of water.  

“Looks like it’s holding. Johnny, crank it open to full and let’s get outta here.” 

Squeak. Squeak. Creak.  

Johnny froze. The valve was fully opened. He took his hands off the wheel. 

Creeak. 

Johnny spun to the left, towards the vent. A slick, furry, black mass was halfway out of the passage. Its dog-like body was large, seemingly far too large to squeeze through the narrow passage. Its hands were human-like, but wrong. They had sharp black nails which dug into the concrete, scrabbling and clinging like spiders as it crept downwards. Its narrow head was pointed, with two sharp incisors which jutted from its jaws like yellow chisels. It was clicking them together, mixing it with the nearly inaudible chirping. It seemed like it was laughing.  

Hong glanced at Johnny’s face, and then swung and leveled his revolver. A slug ripped through the monster’s skull, and it fell to the ground, legs scrambling about in its death throes. The shot rang through the tunnels, bounding off the concrete and the pipes and the deep places.   

There was silence. Then, from the vent and the drain and the crack, a chorus of excited chirping and chittering.  

“Johnny, grab the tools and run.” 

Johnny threw the power ratchet in and shut the box. He kept the Salamander in his right hand. The two raced out of the room. Just before he exited, Johnny glanced back. More pointed, fuzzy snouts bubbled out from the crack in the wall, black and evil eyes watching the pair flee. 

“WHAT THE HELL ARE THOSE THINGS?” 

“WOLFRATS. KEEP RUNNING!” 

They raced down the tunnel, towards the sputtering dying light of the flare. Over the clanking of the tools and the rush of the wind, Johnny could hear multiple feet splashing along the floor and multiple teeth clicking together in anticipation.  

The elevator was 30 meters away. 25 meters. 20. 

One of the wolfrats lunged at Johnny, grabbing his leg with its vicelike jaws. Johnny fell to the ground, the toolbox flying out of his hands. The animal frantically gnawed at his suit, trying to rip through the armor plating.  

Hong fired a round through the beast's torso, and it scrambled away with a pained squeal. In the brief muzzle flash, Johnny saw the horde of massive vermin bearing down to replace their fallen comrade, eyes glinting in the light and teeth slick with drool.  

In desperation, he pointed the Salamander towards them and fired. The wielding torch lit up the tunnel. Hong and Johnnys visors instantly darkened to protect their eyes.  

The wolfrats weren’t so lucky. With pained shrieks, they fell back from the searing light.  

“LET’S GO, LET’S GO!” 

They scrambled back. 15 meters. 10 meters. 8 meters. The flare was dead. Every few steps, Johnny spun to let off another burst with the Salamander.  

5 meters. 2 meters. 

As Johnny turned for another burst, Hong grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him to the side of the tunnel. Something massive and black raced out of the ruined storefront and passed them by less than a meter. Six legs held up an armored abdomen, the glossy black carapace shining from the tac-lights. The wolfrats shrieked as the cow-sized arachnid bore down upon them. As Hong pulled him inside the elevator, Johnny watched the mutant vinegarroon rip into the horde, striking and grabbing with its pedipalps, its tail arched and spraying acidic webbing on the squeaking masses. Then the door shut, and the elevator grinded to the surface.  

The two walked back to the van. For several minutes, the two just sat, breathing heavily. Then, after a long wait, Hong turned to Johnny.  

“Get on dispatch and tell them the jobs done. Then tell them to contact Heavenly Towers management. They need to hire an exterminator.”  

Johnny nodded.  

“I know someone...”