Trembling Tunnels

The tunnels trembled with distant violence.

Each explosion above sent a shudder through the earth, shaking loose rust flakes from the overhead pipes and showering the floor in brittle dust. The air smelled of damp concrete and something sharper—smoke, faint but creeping downward like an unwelcome guest.

In the dim light of a single lantern, two figures moved carefully down the narrow passageway.

They walked hand in hand.

The man led with cautious steps, his other hand gripping a scavenged revolver. The woman followed close, her free hand resting on his shoulder for balance as her boots splashed lightly in shallow puddles. Both wore patched jackets and threadbare scarves, their faces streaked with grime but set with quiet determination.

Neither spoke. Words were dangerous here—they echoed too far, carried too easily.

Instead, their fingers did the talking.

A squeeze of reassurance.
A tug to slow.
A tremor of shared fear when another boom rattled the steel beams above their heads.

They didn’t know what waited ahead.

Maps were scarce, and the graffiti markers left by earlier escapees had been smeared or washed away. The tunnels themselves seemed endless, splitting and curving like the veins of a dying beast.

But turning back wasn’t an option.

Behind them lay collapse.

Above them, the fires.

Ahead… perhaps a chance. A rumor of a safe place deeper still.

The woman glanced upward as dust rained down from the ceiling. Somewhere up there, the world was devouring itself. Politicians and warlords tearing at the bones of a civilization they had already killed.

She tightened her grip on his hand. He glanced back just long enough to meet her eyes—a flicker of warmth amid the ruin.

Far ahead, a faint flicker of light glimmered in the tunnel’s curve. Not lanternlight—too steady. Not fire—too pale.

They slowed, breaths quickening, hearts pounding as the earth quaked again.

Perhaps it was nothing.

Perhaps it was the first sign they weren’t alone in the dark.

But they didn’t let go.

Hand in hand, they pressed forward.

Because even here, deep beneath a dying city, hope was still a weapon.