Haunt

"What do you sense?" Crowe's voice crackles in my ear, the tinny reception of my headset altered by the league or so of earth separating us.

"Nothing. It's dark, I hear voices in the distance. There's no presence though. Like a ghost." I adjust the earpiece, trying to get a better sound.

"Okay, move on, Spec." He whispers something to someone behind him, sitting snug in his plush office back at headquarters.

I brush my clear, glass-like fingers against the dirt walls. A familiar claustrophobia surges to the surface, but I squelch it down and ignore. All that matters is the job at hand.

"Moving on, boss." I feel along the walls, the tunnel only large enough for me and perhaps half of me again to move about. I shiver and keep walking forward.

"The voices are getting louder, Crowe." my super-sensitive ears swivel to get the most of the speakers' argument. I still can't make out words, but I can tell they're angry.

"Spec? It's Soot. I'm on line two, relay position." The silky voice of Crowe's navigator-slash-wife issues through the same set.

I dig my bear, translucent toes into the packed earth, and check my multi-purpose watch. "I'm three leagues down, under the third pass. Can't tell which crossover. Soot, there's a weird signal on my watch. Flashing purple. Soot?"

The line had gone silent.

"SOOT? CROWE?" I begin to panic. The earth seems so much closer, pushing in. My breath comes in ragged gasps.

Gotta keep moving. The purple dot moves along the map on my watch. Getting closer to my still green dot.

"Sir? The purple is moving closer. Request lift out. Sir?"

I scream as the earth in front of me pushes in, spraying everywhere. "Gotcha!"

The purple dot had reached me. A mole.

"Gods, man, don't do that to a girl!" I clutch my heart.

He grins, face covered in soil. His short, spiky brown hair is illuminated from behind by a red lantern, coloured to preserve night vision.

Moles are friendly enough, for recluses. Mostly top-worlders like me steer clear of them, preferring to leave their underground cities alone. Sometimes we have to go down out of necessity. Like now.

"Who're you?" He extends a hand and pulls me through the wall and into a small, red-lit alcove. The arguing voices had ceased, and I search frantically on my watch for other beings.

Just the purple dot and me.

"Victoria Spectre, 412, rank Sergeant. I'm looking for a man called Severe, he was last scanned down here." I shake his hand, memorising his pink mole's eyes and pointed teeth.

"I'm Icarus, like the guy with the melted wings. Why do you need Severe?" He scratches the back of his neck, eyes darting to the tunnel entrance to his right.

I've already said too much, just by mentioning his name, but I need a way out of here.

"Do you know him? He's a top-worlder, like me. Short silver hair, icey blue eyes, almost clear skin?" I hold my hand just above my head. "'Bout yay high?"

The mole nods slowly. "He was two scores up earlier, in one of the old tunnels. Said he was just passing to the Corestone, had to speak with the Daja."

Crap. If he's already reached the Daja, king of moles, then we're in trouble.

"When was this?" I hop about, still fidgeting with my watch.

He seems to pick up on my mood, because he hurries in his explanation. "Look, Lady, it was only quar' an hour ago, I gave him directions 'cuz anyone's aloud to see the Daja."

I rush past him, into the other access tunnel, "Thanks, Icarus!" I call over my shoulder.

"Yeah, I guess, Lady." He shrugged and started patching up the wall he had dragged me through.

Fifteen minutes, thirty-two seconds later I burst into the Corestone reception room, only a score (the favoured unit of measurement of moles, meaning one storey) down.

"I need to see the Daja, immediately!" I bang my hand on the receptionist's desk.

The petite mole jumped and picked up the purple phone, shaped like a flower.

"Sire, another top-worlder to see you." She pauses. "Sire?"

"Damn!" I exclaim, causing her to jump again. "Open the door!"

She hesitates, "I said open the damn door!"

A few levers are pulled, and a section of the mud wall slides out. I dash through into the Daja's main chamber.

The fist thing I notice is the tall plant. Like a green, softly glowing root system pushing to the high ceiling. It pulses softly, growing dimmer.

The second thing I notice is the mole lying dead at the roots' base.

"Get a medic!" I yell at the receptionist, who immediately scurries back out into the hall. My clear fingers go immediately to the Daja's neck, feeling for a pulse.

"Sire? Can you hear me?" No response. Then I see why, a deep gash in his gut, his innards have been pulled out and taken.

I search the room. No sign of them.

A pair of mole medics rush in, followed by the tiny receptionist. "He's dead." I whisper.