Page 80 of No Man's Land

Josef peered through the door. It led onto a much narrower tunnel, more like a corridor—an access passage for engineers and other workmen, most likely. It had never occurred to Josef that people needed to move about down here, but then he’d never given it much thought. Now that he did, it was obvious that workmen couldn’t simply walk along thetrain tunnels. “There must be a whole network of maintenance passageways.”

Alex joined him at the doorway, his eyes still narrowed but no longer in apparent pain. “Yes. This one doesn’t look much used, but it appears to lead to more well-travelled areas.”

“A convenient way for the ghoul to move around the city.”

“Quite.” He glanced at Josef. “Keep your weapon to hand.”

With that, Alex set off into the tunnel, Josef following at his heels. It ran for a good few hundred yards before they saw another door on the left side of the passage, and opposite it, a set of stairs leading down deeper. Even in the dim light, Josef could see that the door stood ajar, something blocking it—wedging it open?

Alex slowed, sniffing the air. “They’re here.”

A moment later, Josef caught the scent too. Or rather the stench, the familiar putrid rot he’d first seen at the front. He stopped dead, catching Alex’s arm to halt him too. “Now what?”

Shaking off his hand, Alex kept walking. “Come on.”

Fuck. Josef hurried after him, the gun heavy in his hand.

When Alex reached the door, he crouched down to examine what blocked it, still sniffing the air. For Josef’s part, he was trying not to breathe too deeply. As he came to join Alex, he stopped, flinching back. A man’s leg lay wedged in the door. And only a man’s leg. Even in the dim light, Josef could see that it had been…chewed.

His stomach churned, bile rising into his throat. He’d seen plenty of severed limbs at the front, but this…? “Fuck,” he whispered, jaw clenched against a wave of nausea.

When Alex stood, he looked harrowed. “Sometimes, they will fight over the spoils.”

Yet another image Josef could do without.

“This is fresh,” Alex went on, his expression stiff, haunted. “They’re not far.”

Josef reached out a hand and squeezed his arm. “All right?” He swallowed another rise of bile. “The stink’s getting to me, too.”

Alex lifted his eyes to Josef. “God help me,” he said thickly, “but I only feel…”

“Feel what?”

Eyes dark and full of horror, he rasped, “Hunger.”

Josef’s heart lurched. “Can you…?” His mouth had turned dry, like ash. “Can you control it?”

With a curt nod, Alex said, “Yes, for now. I don’t know how long—” His gaze dropped to the gun Josef held.

It felt like a lead weight, big and ugly in his hand. He’d rather do anything than use it on Alex. Hell, he’d rather use it on himself. “Long enough,” he said firmly. “Come on, they’re nearby. Let’s get this blood and scarper.”

Neither of them touched the human leg, stepping over it as you might step over a pile of horse dung in the street. Once, at the field hospital in Pops, Josef had seen a mound of mangled limbs, left behind after the surgeons had finished their bloody work. The pile of discarded flesh had been covered in flies, and Josef had vomited at the sight. But that had been in the early days of his time at the front, and his stomach had soon grown stronger.

They lived in a world of death. In a country that gaily threw millions of men into the meatgrinder of the salient, was it any surprise that here, beneath the streets of London, human flesh had become food for monsters?

Mankind deserved no better.

Beyond the door rose a narrow flight of stairs, the light at the top growing brighter. They climbed, cautiously, jumping atthe sudden thunder of a passing train—closer here, right above their heads. Stupidly, Josef found himself ducking.

At the top of the stairs, an electric light had been fastened to the wall, its yellow light illuminating dark streaks of blood on the stairs. Next to the light, stood another door, also open. Another train thundered nearby, and a draft of warm air pushed through the door. The sort of breeze you might feel standing on a station platform. Only this one was ripe with the foetid stench of rot.

Josef put an arm to his nose, tamping down the desire to puke.

At his side, Alex looked ghastly, pale as bone. As he breathed in, his nostrils flared, and he wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. His eyes were bright and horrified.

From the other side of the door came a soft scrabble of movement, a low hiss.

The hair rose on the back of Josef’s neck as he turned, meeting Alex’s too-bright gaze. And then the light went out.

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