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***

"Michael can you hear me," I whispered into my earpiece. "Loud and clear, Maya. Be careful out there and don't give too much away, by talking to me," he replied. I strode casually until I came across a wall. The moss clung to the stone wall like green snow, clinging to the crevices and lying on the upper surfaces. I searched everywhere for an entryway, 'til I found a tunnel. A tunnel. The same place where one of the missing persons got lost.

"Emily was a great child," Her mother spoke at an interview while blowing her nose, "She would go down to Fairport, the route through the tunnel and offer community service every weekend. I just hope she's okay."

That brought me back to reality. The tunnels once seemed beautifully arched brick walls were covered in graffiti. The floor was littered with hypodermic needles, broken bottles and sewage. It was populated by the most desperate low-life's, locked in their own dog-eat-dog existence. No-one in their right mind would go there without a hazmat suit and some serious weaponry. But I needed to get to Fairport fast, and the tunnel would cut right through the long distance.

Chills washed over my body as I appeared in the tunnel. Every two metres a small LED lightbulb were placed on both sides of the tunnel. "Michael?" I whispered. No response, dang it! My shadows were sharply defined puddles at my feet. Already this adventure had an unsettling feeling. I wonder how if I could make it back to Perryville. A dark figure crawls, ominously advancing as I walked hesitantly down the abandoned passageway, impersonating my every faint movement. A flicker of the light bulbs and I momentarily lost it, but to my horror, it rises out of the murky depths of a mud puddle again, breathing life into the cold cobblestone.

I felt the panic begin like a cluster of spark plugs in my abdomen. Tension grew in my face and limbs, my mind replaying the last attack. My breathing became more rapid, more shallow. In these moments before my personal hurricane, I understood the drug addict, the alcoholic... anything to stop the primal urge to flee.

I fled. Sweat rolled down my skin in dense, briny droplets. I could feel my heart throbbing inside my chest. My skin felt like it was roasting. I began bouncing slightly as I jogged, which wore me out quickly. My bag pulling me down, but I kept pushing forward.  My lungs felt like they would burst and my throat was so dry. I could see the light speeding towards me, and I finally stepped out of the tunnel.