Chương 13: Abandoned Tunnel

Lloyd climbed the path up the hill and came out onto a flat straight track leading deep into the forest. The trees here stood dense — old, with dark bark and bare branches that intertwined high overhead, forming something like a vault. Dry leaves still tore from the last clinging branches and glided down — slowly, almost lazily, settling on top of the already lying carpet of brown and russet foliage. Underfoot it rustled and gave slightly.

The sky through the branches was still just as grey and heavy, but there was no rain — the clouds hung low and pressed down, but weren't in any hurry. Lloyd walked along the path, glancing around and periodically checking the map on his phone. The forest was quiet — not dead, but quiet in the way autumn is quiet, restrained. Somewhere in the distance birds called to each other, the wind occasionally rolled through the treetops with a long rustling sound, and then silence settled again — dense, almost tangible.

There was nothing superfluous here. Only the forest, the grey sky, and the soft crunch of leaves underfoot.

"Just what I need — getting lost on top of everything." Suddenly something rustled in the bushes to his right. Lloyd stopped. His hand reached on its own toward the side pocket of the backpack — where the knife was. The bushes kept moving — insistently, with the crack of dry branches. And then a white rabbit burst out of the undergrowth.

It froze on the path for a fraction of a second, staring at Lloyd with a round black eye — and immediately bolted into the bushes on the opposite side, a white tail flashing and gone. Lloyd slowly exhaled. — Phew. You really had me there, buddy. He watched the spot where the rabbit had vanished and smiled slightly — a little sheepishly, though there was no one to be sheepish in front of. He moved his hand away from the pocket and walked on. The forest gradually changed.

The trees stood a little further apart, more grey sky showing through between the trunks. The leaf cover underfoot was thicker here — no one had disturbed it, and it lay in dense layers, damp underneath and dry on top. The air smelled of rotting leaves and wet earth — thickly, almost sweetly, the way it only smells in late autumn when the forest slowly begins preparing for winter. About ten minutes later Lloyd noticed something odd.

At first he couldn't quite tell what it was — just something that didn't fit with the rest of the forest. Then he looked more carefully.

"Is that what I think it is?" He picked up his pace. It was a road. An old, abandoned road — a strip of asphalt almost entirely swallowed by nature. Grass had pushed through the cracked surface, thin saplings had taken root in the gaps between the slabs, and in places the asphalt had buckled into humps from the roots beneath. Along the edges the undergrowth had long since crossed what used to be the roadside and was growing directly on the surface itself. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road.

If you see it on Amazon, please report it. Lloyd stopped at the edge and stared in silence for a few seconds.

"There really was a road here. How about that." He looked around. The road stretched away in both directions and disappeared behind the trees. Abandoned long ago — you could tell by how thoroughly the forest had absorbed it. Not a year or two. Much longer.

"I've reached the first point. That means roughly another fifteen minutes." Lloyd checked his phone and set off along the old road. It was easier going than the forest path — despite the cracks and potholes it was still more or less flat. He walked and looked around — at the tree trunks, at the way the branches hung over the road, at the pale sky in the gaps above. Somewhere in the canopy birds called quietly to each other.

A hedgehog crossed the road — briskly, paying no attention whatsoever to the human, and disappeared into the leaves at the roadside. Lloyd slowed his pace without meaning to. The silence here was real. Not the city kind — that kind always has a background, a hum, someone's voices and car horns. This was different. Dense, almost tangible. Even in his own room, even at night, he had never been able to feel it properly — something always seeped through the walls. But here there was plenty of it.

He walked and simply breathed. Deeply, evenly — letting the air fill his lungs completely. The smell of rotting leaves, damp earth, tree bark. Grey sky overhead. An empty road ahead. Not a single person around. After a while the trees parted — and Lloyd stopped. Ahead was a tunnel. Abandoned, old, with a dark gaping entrance half-hidden by overgrown bushes on either side. Above the opening hung a concrete canopy with crumbling plaster and brown streaks from years of damp.

The concrete around it was covered in moss — dark green, wet, dense. Across the road stood a metal fence — rusted, covered in orange patches, but still solid. On the central section hung a sign, peeling, with faded letters.

"No entry for unauthorised persons." Lloyd stood and looked at the tunnel. From its dark interior came cold and damp — not in gusts, but slowly, constantly, like breathing. Somewhere inside water dripped — infrequent, hollow strikes against the asphalt that the tunnel amplified many times over and sent back. The darkness inside was absolute — the flashlight barely outlined the first few metres of wet concrete, and beyond that everything simply fell away into blackness. No hint that there was an end to it.

No hint that there was anything there at all. Lloyd stood and stared at that dark void. The wind behind him stirred the leaves — quietly, barely audible. The forest was silent. He sighed, walked up to the fence, grabbed the crossbar with both hands and climbed over without much effort. Landed, straightened up.

"Can't see a damn thing." He slipped the backpack off, pulled out the flashlight — a good one, solid, with a wide beam — and switched it on. White light struck the darkness, picking out a stretch of wet asphalt, concrete walls with streaks of rust and moss, a low ceiling with peeling paint.

"That's better." Lloyd swung the backpack onto his shoulders again. Stepped under the arch. The sound of his footsteps changed immediately — became hollow, full, bouncing off the walls and returning from all sides at once. The smell of damp pressed in more heavily. The cold of the tunnel wrapped around his shoulders through his jacket. A slow wave of cold moved down his spine.

"Well. I'm starting to have second thoughts." He stood still for a few seconds — the flashlight lit up the tunnel stretching ahead, with no end in sight. The darkness out there was dense and absolute. A drop fell from the ceiling and struck the asphalt somewhere in the depths — the sound scattered through the tunnel and faded. Lloyd clenched his teeth. Took a step. Then another. And moved forward.