The Tunnels
“D o you trust this map?” Constance asked the Dude. As much as she was risking her life, and others, by trusting this stranger, she had no other choice. He’d shown her tunnels she could finally walk through instead of crawl. Besides, his red cloak showed bright enough to light the way ahead.
“It’s an old map,” he said. “When the asylum was designed for war. The tunnels were meant for its inhabitants to escape. I’m not sure how much they’ve changed through the years.”
“So we’re like the blind following the blind?”
“Pretty much,” he said and seemed determined to keep on walking.
“I’m Constance,” she called out behind him. “But you know that already. How do you know me?”
“That’s a long story, kiddo.” He stopped at a puddle of water and knelt down.
“Don’t call me kiddo.” She knelt beside him. “I’m tens of girls in one body.”
“That’s true. You’re brave,” he said, reaching for the water.
Constance wished she could see his face. She was so curious about him.
“But there is one thing wrong about you, brave girl,” he said.
“Nothing is wrong about me.” She had her hands on her waist.
“There is.” He scooped up the water and splashed it on her face.
Constance froze, not from the water, but from how she considered it an insult.
The Dude splashed her again. This time, her clothes. Again and again.
“Stop!”
“You smell like shit,” he said. “Of actual shit.”
Constance’s mouth was full of water. She was soaking wet, and could not do anything before he was finished. But he was right, she’d smelled of shit from crawling into the tunnels.
“See?” he said with a smirking voice. “You’re a pretty little mermaid now.” He stood up and walked away again, following the map.
“I’m not little!” Constance stomped after him. “And I’m not a mermaid.”
“From what I see, I have to kneel down to talk to you,” the Dude said, still examining his map on the walk.
Constance had no come back for that. She was much shorter. But then she’d decided to play stubborn. “Maybe it’s you who is too tall. Pathetic.”
She heard the Dude chuckle but couldn’t see his face. She gripped the edge of his cloak and he stopped.
“What now?” he sighed.
“If we’re going to be a team, I demand respect.”
“But of course, Nancy Drew.”
“I’m not Nancy Drew, you tall red giraffe!”
“I’m a tall red giraffe?” The Dude seemed to lose his temper, as if he were a child too. “Do you have any idea what I did to come here and save your little ass?”
“It’s not little ass. Just ass.”
The Dude threw his hands up and sighed, then turned back. “You’re something. I don’t believe I came here to save you.”
“Who sent you?”
“Doesn’t matter. Just follow me and try to keep your mouth shut.”
“I will not. I crawled in a narrow tunnel full of shit. What did you do?”
“I haven’t done anything yet, but I might have to end up zipping your mouth with a binder. Or better yet, pull out all of your teeth, so you can grow old exponentially and finally shut up.”
They suddenly stood before another dead end wall. The Dude crumpled the map in his hands and grunted.
Constance laughed. “Another dead end. And you say you came here to save me. What was your plan actually?”
“According to the map, there is a door, leading to a secret room in the asylum.”
“So? We find the door and get back in. Brilliant!” She mirrored his grunt, even the way he stood.
“The door leads to the room, but also leads back to another opposite door which opens into the river,” the Dude said. “It’s a short swim and we can escape from where the police never thought was possible. I just need to find the door.”