The Boston Tunnel Affair: Beneath the City, the Tunnels are Alive!
Bridgette’s Dairy
Thursday, 15 January, 1925, Continued
Up ahead the tunnel turned sharply to the left. As we rounded the corner, I saw the most awe-inspiring sight of my life. The tunnel was indeed a living entity, all be it one that I would be hard pressed to define or describe. Before us the chamber opened up, becoming both wider and taller. And there, just ahead, hung a gigantic heart. You could watch it pulse as it beat. Suspended behind it was an equally large pair of lungs, expanding and contracting as though they were actually engaged in respiration. As if that were not horror enough, perched upon the heart was Labana, drinking deeply from the blood that coursed through it. As embarrassing as it is to admit, I am certain I screamed - at least a small scream. Not so Mr. Smith, who quickly shot off two rounds from his big gun. At least one of them hit her square on, not that you could make out any discernable damage from where we stood. The second shot seemed to ricochet from her metallic exterior and careened into the nearby wall. I watched, fascinated as the creature quivered from the impact, perhaps even from the pain, and a trickle of bright red blood ran down the wall.
Shortly after Mr. Smith’s shots
rang out, Mr. Long let out a battle cry in a tongue I couldn’t understand and
launched himself at the metal vampire. Using the wall as leverage, he crashed
into her with both feet, knocking her from her position of feeding. With a
snarl, she swung at him with what I am sure was enough force to knock him into
one of the walls. Thankfully he ducked that limber body out of the way before
she could actually impact.
Mr. Rasicci had also pulled his gun
and began to rain more bullets down upon the heart of the tunnel creature. Mr.
Smith took the time to take a careful aim before firing once again upon Labana,
scoring another direct shot.
During all of this, Mr. Long was in
the thick of it all, going hammer and tongs against her. You could see him land
blow after kick in quick succession. Labana was not entirely without her own
defenses, as she continued to fight back, knocking Mr. Long on his back in the
stomach acid on at least one occasion. In the end, he prevailed - landing a
kick that snapped her head back and sent her falling into the acidic liquid
sloshing around them. At a shout of warning from Mr. Smith, he came running
back towards us as we all ducked behind the safety of the bend.
I’m not sure I could describe the
explosion that followed, but I shall give it a try. Apparently silver metallic
vampires explode after their bodies have taken enough damage. Labana now
erupted in a rain of metal shrapnel in all directions, taking the heart and
lungs of the tunnel creature with her. We watched as scraps of metal embedded
themselves in the wall nearby, all accompanied with a hail of stomach acid and
bits of organ tissue. It is probably fortunate that none of us had time to
ponder what we had just seen, for a rumbling beneath our feet alerted us to yet
another problem and we turned to run for the entrance back up to the hotel.
All around us came tumbling down
bits of tissue from the living walls as well as the brick and mortar that made
up the support behind them. It was as though the entire city were collapsing on
our heads. We made it to our entrance, scurrying back up into the laundry room
and slamming the trapdoor shut before the shock waves fully reached that far.
When they did arrive, the floor shook mightily, but at least we didn’t have to
worry about a backsplash of acid sloshing up through the opening and all over
the floor.
We found out the next day that a
good chunk of the immediate area had suffered from the death of the tunnel
monster. Several streets were either partially or completely collapsed. City
officials were puzzled as to what caused the damage, since according to experts
as it didn’t seem to be an earthquake. Our brave little group will spend the
next couple of days at the hotel before heading into New York City. At least, I
know that is where Miss. O’Reilly and I are going, since we will be filing
reports of the adventure with the New York chapter of the Society. As for the
evening of our final trip into the sewer tunnels, I returned to my room to
shower and take several good stiff drinks from my flask. I may need to renew my
physician’s credentials if there are many more trips to America, as that is the
only way to get your hands on alcohol in the States these days. Silly Yanks,
don’t they realize we need something to steady ourselves after fighting
accursed beasties to keep them safe?
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