The Boston Tunnel Affair - Back Into the Sewers

Part 6
The Boston Tunnel Affair: Beneath the City, the Tunnels are Alive!

Bridgette’s Dairy
Thursday, 15 January, 1925

 

 

Dear Diary, we survived, although Boston may never be the same again and I’m still not sure what in Hell it was that we killed last night. Let me start back where I last left off.

We once again met up as a group, only this time we gathered in Mr. Smith’s room. Mr. Rasicci had managed to procure enough gas masks for the lot of us, thank goodness. I’m not sure what we would have done otherwise, or how fervently I would be wishing that I didn’t need to enter the sewer once again. Miss. Devereaux and Miss. O’Reilly had purchased some extra electric torches and heavy gloves. They even managed to find heavy boots for those of us needing them. And Mr. Smith got his hands on some silver ammunition for their various firearms. My small caliber pistol was of little use in such a fight, but I did bring it along with me, just in case. Its weight in my pocket offered a small measure of comfort, even if I didn’t have any of the special bullets.

I explained that I thought the liquid in the can would serve as a protectant from the creature’s digestive fluids and shared my suspicion that Labana lost her skin in the sewer because the fluid’s acid could not affect whatever metal of which she was composed. Of course, there is also the possibility that she just enjoyed running around looking like something from a science fiction penny dreadful. Or perhaps she was merely an exhibitionist.

We suited up in Mr. Smith’s room with the boots and treated our clothing and skin with the can’s contents. The gas masks and heavy gloves we added in the laundry room just before we entered the pit to the tunnel once again. Trying not to attract any extra attention to ourselves, we also took a back stairwell down to the ground floor. I think we were successful.

Once again, one of the men had to assist me in landing on the ground, as I didn’t want to enter the dreadful, acidic fluid any sooner than absolutely necessary. Mr. Long apparently didn’t have those reservations, as he started out walking down the middle of the tunnel, commenting after a few steps that I had, indeed, been correct in my assessment of the can’s contents. Nice to know he has faith in my abilities.

We retraced our steps from the previous evening fairly quickly, even if we did slow down considerably as we once again approached the location where we had encountered Labana. She was not there and we honestly had no way of knowing if she was currently in the tunnels with us. The thought did send shivers down my spine since I had no idea just how formidable an opponent she would be. Could she take out everyone in our group without any effort? Her metal body possessed a natural armor that was difficult to penetrate.

The entire time the liquid in the tunnel was getting deeper and wider. Somewhere around the 75 foot mark, there was no avoiding walking through it and soon we were all sloshing around in the fluid up to our ankles and higher. At a hundred and some odd feet, we encountered the most curious curtain hanging across the tunnel. It covered the entire expanse without any break except for where it hung free at the sides. It turned out to be created entirely of skin, although I’d be loathe to wager a guess on the type of skin. If it turned out to be human, I’m not sure I’d ever sleep again. Luckily, Mr. Smith was towards the front and, as such, was the one who moved it aside. Mr. Rasicci was kind enough to hold it back for the rest of us to pass. Upon walking by it, I noticed that the skin appeared to still be living. I am beyond indebted to him for his small kindness in holding the curtain open for us. My quota for weirdness has already been met for the next decade and I’ve a feeling that it is only going to get worse.

A few feet farther on, we came to what seemed to be a central location in the tunnels, or at least a connecting point, as three tunnels came together into a central, more open point that continues onward. Here the acidic liquid was much deeper, reaching up to my chest. Perhaps it’s a good thing that I’m the shortest in the group as anyone much shorter than I am would be in trouble. As far as I can tell, the protective fluid from the metal can is still working to protect us from the affects of the acid. Thank goodness for small favors.

Next week, the stunning conclusion...