Page 48 of Knight

“There.”Knight points to what looks like another maintenance panel. “The air flow changes around it. I think there’s a space behind it that shouldn’t be there.”

I squint at where he’s pointing. Like everything else in this parking structure, it’s utilitarian metal, identical to all the others. “How can you tell?”

“Because someone has modified the area around it …recently.” He walks over and runs his fingers along the edge. “The sealant compound is different.”

There’s a click, and the panel wings outward, revealing darkness beyond. The air flowing from it feels different. Cooler,cleanersomehow, with undertones of machinery and metal.

He disappears inside, only to reappear a second later.

“After you.” Knight gestures to the opening.

“Into complete darkness again? That seems smart.”

“Just watch the angle. It slopes down for the first twenty feet.” He moves closer, voice dropping. “Keep your hand on the right wall. The left side has exposed conduit.”

The moment I move into the passageway, even the dim lighting from the parking structure vanishes, blocked by Knight’s body as he follows me in. The panel swings shut behindhim, once again sealing us in complete darkness. The kind of darkness that makes you realize how much residual light usually exists in dark spaces.

My world narrows to touch and sound. The rough concrete under my right palm. The hollow echo of movement. The rush of blood in my ears.

“Keep going.” His voice comes from close behind.Veryclose. “The slope levels out after this section.”

I don’t ask him how he knows. At this point I’m pretty sure he’s more computer than man. He probably downloaded the schematics to his brain when he found the panel.

I edge forward, on hands and kneesagain, trying to find a rhythm that works. The concrete is rough against my palms, the texture changing subtly as we move deeper. Another blast vibrates through the walls. The explosion going off directly above us, but the sound is distorted by layers of stone and metal.

My left hand encounters empty space instead of wall, and I gasp, my heart slamming against my ribs, despite knowing the gap would be there. There’s something fundamentally terrifying about reaching into nothingness when you can’t see anything.

“Found the conduit gap?” His dry tone echoes around the enclosed space. “Try not to fall into it. The landing would be unpleasant, and possibly fatal.”

The passage curves, although the direction is impossible to judge, without some kind of visual reference. Sounds bounce strangely off the unseen walls. Another explosion hits somewhere above, more vibrations traveling through the concrete in new patterns.

“Stop.” His command is sudden. “There’s a junction. Give me a minute.”

I freeze, listening as he eases past me, the scrape of his boots against concrete, the controlled pattern of his breathing. His spatial awareness is unnerving, like he’s done this before.Manytimes before. Who spends so much time in maintenance tunnels that they can remember their layout?

“The main tunnel continues straight on, but there’s a branch to the right. Newer construction based on the concrete texture. You can feel the difference in the surface.”

My fingers smooth along the wall, and there it is. The change. It’s smoother.

“How can you possibly tell in the dark?”

“Practice. This way.” He touches my right shoulder. “The air flow is wrong in the other passage.”

“What does that even mean?” But he doesn’t answer.

The tunnel gradually widens, and the ceiling height increases until Knight tells me to stand. After crawling through such tight confines, the space feels vast. Sound carries differently here, suggesting multiple pathways. The air currents swirl, bringing with them traces of something mechanical.

“Don’t move.” His voice comes from slightly ahead. “There’s about twenty feet of open grating between us and the maintenance ladder. One wrong step …”

The implication hangs in the air.

“How do we get across it?”

Instead of answering, his footsteps come closer, and then his hands settle on my hips from behind. I tense at the unexpected contact.

“I’ll guide you. Step exactly where I indicate. The grating is old, and some sections might be unstable.” His fingers flex on my hips. “Small steps. I’ll tap left or right to tell you which foot to move. Don’t hurry. Feel the way and test the weight before you move … Understand?”

I nod, then remember he can’t see me. “Yes, I think so.”

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