Brenda scanned the walls and ceiling as they crept forward. This was no place to be trapped. Horrors occurred in such places.
She felt alien eyes observing from lighted apertures, heard low breathing and rumbled signals – a presence, unidentifiable, malign. Here were barred alcoves, where chained victims awaited an agonising end; here unspeakable, snarling monsters lurked, fangs bared. Up ahead, the walls converged. They would never get out.
She steeled herself. Greg could handle it. He’d guide them through.
“Gee, Bren, we’ll use the bridge tomorrow. This tunnel’s a nightmare.”
Brenda managed an affirming nod. “Really, Greg? Whatever. I’m easy.”
Here’s the bridge they’ll use tomorrow. The Sydney Harbour Tunnel is much more modern and pleasant than the one in this week’s prompt, but I must confess to being overtaken by strange imaginings whenever I’m driving through any tunnel. Unlike Brenda, I’d be happier to be moving along slowly. Traffic moving at high speed through a relatively narrow tunnel is a recipe for disaster, in my books.
Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting Friday Fictioneers flash fiction challenge. This story is my contribution for this week.