Tunnels

The odor of mildew assaulted her lungs as Cadence Findley made her way through the underground tunnel. Here she still had enough clearance to stand, though she was bent at the waist so that her shoulders were stooped, but up ahead, she was aware it narrowed even further, and she’d be forced to drop to her knees. How her Guardian, Elliott Sanderson, was ever going to make it through the smaller passage, she wasn’t sure, but she thought it might be fun to watch.

“Moist. That’s the word that comes to mind. It smells moist in here,” he said only to her through his IAC, or Intelligence Assistance Communicator, a tiny chip each member of the LIGHTS (Lincoln International Guardian and Hunter Training Station) team had in their eye so that they could speak to each other and share other information without actually having to open their mouths.

“Don’t use that word,” Cadence said, bile rising up in the back of her