Sally's Story: Strange Pursuits

	The detectives waited outside and prepared as they waited on backup, each moment weighing on their shoulders as their suspect likely escaped deeper underground. Sally was anxious to get underground and was about to launch herself after the escapee as the cry of sirens in the distance grew louder. Finally, after too long Sally felt, their backup was there - if only to secure the perimeter of the storm drain she was about to slip into. Stepping away from the car again Vincent rubbed the back of his neck before nodding to Sally.
	“Crawley is… less than pleased with this,” he said. “But if it’s the only way, it’s the only way. Are you sure about this?” She nodded.
	“We have a job to do,” she said, chipper again. “Please apologize to Missus Sherry for what’s about to happen to her clothes.”
	“Oh lord,” Vincent groaned as Sally’s smile widened again. Nodding to the officers gathered around, she began to worm herself through the gap in the storm drain and, with a wave, disappeared. Slipping down the short drop towards the main pipeline she splashed into the half foot or so of water sitting stagnant inside. Radio crackling to life she heard the broken calls to her from the surface, concrete sheathing and asphalt above her already interrupting the signal. Reaching the radio towards the dimming sunlight the signal cleared up and she was able to break through.
	“Everything’s alright so far, interference is as bad as expected. Do you have a map with you?”
	“Yes, Officer Danvers here has it spread out,” crackled the radio. “Anything obvious down there so far?” Sally looked around as her eyes adjusted to the dark, feet sunk a half-foot deep in water replete with dead leaves and bits of litter washed away. Instinctive disgust made her roll her pant legs up as she continued looking around. Fixating on the impression of the water line on the concrete tube around her she noticed the darkened splattering of water disturbed, the splashing creating a clear path forward in the relative dark. Eyes now aglow she radioed back her finding before following the path before her.
	Pushing forward along the piping from drain to drain, radioing in her whereabouts at each, Sally marched through the water by the yard, the little ripples from each step forward rocking forward. After a quarter mile slogging along her radio sprung to life once again as she neared another drain. An officer on the other end alerted her of the conjunction of the drain pipe with the municipal sewers ahead and, as expected, just ahead of her the concrete pipe split into an incline towards the sewer beyond. The dark tunnel ahead of her was flanked on either side by a little elevated walkway. Before sliding down the ramp she spotted a flash of graffiti that stood out amongst the other scattered slurs and jabs painted along the walls.
	“Officers I may have something to add here,” she called out. “Can you get Vince on the line?” A little bit of scrambling on the other end and Vincent was back, leaving his canvassing of the neighbors to the officers for the time being.
	“What’s up Sal?”
	“There’s a bit of graffiti here,” she said, eyeing the crude symbol. “It appears to be a series of three arches… and a… lightning bolt? Arrow? It runs through the arcs.” Vincent was paused on the other end, the muffled discussion of the officers above ground spilling into the tunnel.
	“Is that where your trail ends Sally?” Pulling the radio away for a second she scanned around the walls again only to notice the trail of splashes she’d been religiously following disappeared at the intersection.
	“You’re right on that Vincent,” she said. “I believe that down this way may be our suspect.” Across the line, on the surface, Vincent was agonizing over what to do; nightfall was quickly approaching, and if the signs were right it’d be suicide to send Sally in alone. At the same time were they to pull back it’d spell the end of the operation and the loss of the only tangible suspect they’d found. The mute chatter coming from the radio told Sally of the debate going on topside, whether or not it was advisable or even safe to proceed. She nervously fidgeted with the radio to get a clearer sound for what was being discussed.
	“Weathermen been… three years… coincidental, I think,” one of the officers piped up. A voice distinctly Vincent’s, and clearly stressed beyond belief, scolded the man for his naivety. Saly recoiled at the anger in his voice as it squeezed and broke through the line, making it clear to the officers present he wouldn’t take the risk. The discussion waned again, the only sound returning being the mute buzz of radio feedback. After a few moments silence the radio clicked again, Sally rushing to the drain entrance.
	“Sally, here’s what we’re gonna do,” Vincent started. “I got the go ahead to send two officers down by way of the manhole near you to join you in looking for our guy. Wait where you are until you hear that manhole open, okay?” He explained further how far from the entrance she was, that it was just a handful of meters from the drain she was currently at, positioned square in the street it flanked. Sally radioed back, understanding the plan and running through it in her mind. Vincent carefully explained the layout of the sewer surrounding their entry point, pointing out positions of potential ambush, treating the tunnels more like an urban combat zone than anything ‘low’ enough for the police. Sternly, almost paternally, he told her to stay behind the officers, keep to cover, watch each other’s back and most of all keep moving. There was no note of humour in his voice anymore as the radio faded into silence with a solemn farewell on his end.
	A few moments more and the grinding of steel on concrete alerted Sally, jogging to the edge of the sewer tunnel as a bright shaft of light pierced into the darkness, illuminating the ladder. Muttered words echoed from above, barely audible.
	“Still don’t get why we’re doing this for a feckin’ droid, Clem,” one of them muttered. The butt of his shotgun rattled along the ladder as he stepped down.
	“Cool it Sean,” the other piped up as he pulled the manhole back into place. “We’re here to do a job, detective’s orders.”
	“Doesn’t mean I gotta put my life on the line in a goddamn weatherden for a robot.” The other sighed as they dropped onto the grating beneath the ladder, the one jumping in surprise at the robot waiting for them.
Sally, apparently oblivious to their discussion, gleefully urged them onwards, the one shouldering his long gun as they took point. The other officer drew his sidearm and swept the circumference of the tunnel intersection flashlight in hand, dark corners scarcely illuminated down the length of the concrete structure. The trio moved to hug the wall, walking single file along the concrete pathways flanking the stream of putrid sewage a foot below. The two officers took point as they pushed onward into the darkness, Sally pointing out near-invisible markings along the decrepit walls. Crooked arrows spilt on the walls in red paint etched out directions in the labyrinthine tunnels, Sally resting her hand closer to her own sidearm as they delved deeper into the darkness, into ‘enemy territory’ as Vincent put it.
	A skittering in the darkness, rubber soles skidding along the concrete walkways, resounded into the intersection as the trio turned a corner towards a large sheet metal barricade. The shuffle of a nylon jacket and flapping of a raincoat rang ahead as they approached it, the wooden frame and corrugated sheets of tin roofing creaking. The party formed a circle as voices in the dark whispered around them, beams of light swiping in the black for any trace of activity, finding no purchase save for the sickly greens and dismal greys around them. Hugging the wall besides the barricade they dived for cover as a shot rang out, a paff of concrete erupting from the wall beside them.