EXCERPT

A sticky, nauseating smell of dampness and death emanated from the layers of grime that coated the unused tunnel. Agonised, Hamid crawled on through rotting leaves and puddles of stagnant water. His hands and knees were scorched. The tight space pressed against him as if the tunnel were narrowing as he went. Too often, the sharp edges of the conduit’s walls scraped his hips. He gave in to the urge to stretch his body, bumped his head, and winced. Push on.

His tightly compressed lips tasted of earth and sweat. How long had they been underground? Exhaling, he fixed his gaze on the steady rise and fall of Jurad’s body, dimly illuminated by the light from the oil lamp in his hand. In the flickering light, the corroded cast iron of the water conduit glowed orange around them.

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