The Typhon Project

Chapter 13: The Door

The tunnel stretched before me, concrete walls, floor and ceiling. Cool, moist air and a musty, earthy scent rushed past me as me feet thudded against the pavement. Light bulbs protruded from the wall covered in a wire cage lit my path.

I hadn't run in a long time, but it felt good to stretch my muscles. I lengthened my stride. Where did this tunnel lead? Maybe to a dead end? No, it had to lead somewhere. Why else would they build it? I ran down a gentle slope and then up another to draw me closer to the surface.

I slowed to a jog to check my watch. An hour and a half had passed since I'd sneaked out of my room. I had to have been running for at least an hour. My heart was racing and my breathing heavy, but I wasn't tired at all. I was in better shape than I thought. Or endurance was another advantage of this new body. Maybe that's one small thing I could like about it.

I picked up my pace. The tunnel sloped upward again, but steeper this time. I watched the ceiling for other shafts that might lead to the surface. I had to be well outside of the dome by now. I'd have to be careful not to lose track of time; I had to get all the way back to the dorm before anyone noticed me missing.

What if the tunnel just went on for miles and miles?

What if I'd come all this way for nothing?

I stopped and looked back. How much farther should I go?

Fifteen minutes. If I didn't find a way to the surface by then, I'd turn back.

Minutes motored by. I hurried past dozens of lights and meter after meter of concrete. Everything looked the same. I could be running in a giant loop for all I knew.

Up ahead, the light changed. Instead of the orangey glow, the light had more of a blue hue. I pushed myself faster.

I stopped under the light and gazed up at the ceiling. A shaft ran up to the surface just like the one I'd come down. Had I run in a circled and ended up back where I started? My heart sunk. Only one way to find out. I climbed up the shaft, toward the manhole-like cover. Dim silvery light filtered through the holes.

Please, please let me be outside of The Farm.

I was running out of time. I climbed faster

At the top, I pressed at the heavy cover, but it didn't budge. I climbed a wrung higher and put my shoulder into it and pushed with my legs. A metal-on-metal grating and the door shifted. I strained harder and the whole thing lifted. This one wasn't a door at all. More of a cap.

I hadn't run in a circle after all!

I pushed it higher and then shoved it to the side. The night sky peeked through the opening. The moon and a glimpse of the milky way glowed overhead. I pushed the heavy disk farther over. Reaching my hands over the lip of the opening, I poked my head through.

Black top pavement surrounded me. Extinguished street lamps lined the roadway. Moonlight illuminated houses, windows dark. I hadn't opened a hatch. It was a manhole cover. I boosted myself up and out of the shaft. I sat on the edge, my legs still dangling into the hole.

Evenly spaced houses with driveways leading to double garages ran up and down the street. A block down, the dark outline of a stop sign and more darkened houses.

A neighborhood. Not so different than mine back home.

A cold wind swirled around me. A stray, tattered, plastic grocery bag danced down the street and caught against the branch of a shrub.

No sign of life anywhere. Not that I expected to find any. I shoved the manhole cover back over the shaft and stood up. One of the houses caught my eye. I crossed the street, walked a few houses down the sidewalk and stopped.

A chill rippled over me and deep longing filled my chest. The two-story house looked just like mine. It had some stonework accents that mine didn't have, but those were easy to overlook in the dim light. I closed my eyes. For a moment, it was my house. It was daytime and the bus had just dropped me off from school. My backpack hung on my shoulder. Mom was inside making dinner. Lindsay wasn't home yet. She had volleyball practice. And Dad . . .

My breathing hitched.

I opened my eyes but didn't allow the fantasy to evaporate. It was intoxicating. I strolled up the front path, past the memory of the weeping willow Dad had planted in the front yard, past the pink peonies Mom tended in her flower bed, full of ants, but such a sweet scent.

I stopped at the front door, frosted glass in a dark wood frame. I wanted to go home more than I wanted my next breath. What were the chances it was unlocked?

I wrapped my trembling hand around the cold pewter handle, hooked my thumb on the lever and drew in a deep breath.

I whispered, "Please let it be unlocked." If a God still existed on this broken planet, could He do just this one thing for me?

I depressed the lever, the latch clicked, and the door popped open.