Macy and Amber stepped carefully through the puddles along the subway tunnel. Their way was dimly lit by occasional shafts of light that filtered through air vents in the concrete ceilings above. The air was damp and musty. They stayed close but didn’t speak—and the regular drip drip, drip, drip of water punctuated their footsteps as they moved forward.
After what seemed like forever, the tunnel opened up in the distance and the sisters could see light from a wider space ahead. They moved closer to the entrance, and the tracks divided. They could see that the tunnel emerged into a cavernous underground space that housed unused and now abandoned subway cars.
The cars themselves were amazing works of art—every markable space was covered with graffiti, letters and symbols and swirls spray-painted on by long-since-gone-forever street artists. As they moved into the opening space, the air cleared and the mustiness of the tunnel was replaced with the steampunk petroleum smell of old and unused machinery.
“Do you think he made it this far?” asked Macy.
“It’s hard to say,” answered Amber. “He can be quite resourceful when he chooses to be.”
“True enough,” Macy replied. “And stubborn too.”
Stepping around the oil swirled puddles on the concrete floor, they looked for any sign that their brother may have passed that way earlier in the day.
Macy thought back to the events of the morning. Harsh words had been spoken in the heat of the moment and she knew her younger brother would be regretting his angry outburst by now, but would be too proud to make amends just yet. Talie had changed a lot since the lights when out. Before the darkness fell, Talie, like many young men his age had been lost in video games and rap music, drifting along without purpose or goal. He was an amazing guitar player and when he set his mind to it, would write beautiful melodies which he strung to lonely lyrics about being lost without a place to go.