Free The Box by Brian Harmon

stupidity in being cautious. They still didn’t know who sent them the box and key.
    But it was too late now. If he turned back he would have to voice his irrational thoughts and that would only serve to frighten Brandy.
    But Brandy was already frightened. This place was far creepier than she imagined it would be. She reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. “No signal,” she said after staring at the screen for a moment.
    “Lot of concrete and rock between us and the tower, I’d imagine.”
    “Yeah.” She put it back in her purse without turning it off. The idea that she could no longer phone for help made her uneasy.
    Ahead of them, the tunnel opened onto another one. The map said they would turn right here and then take the next left after that. Then they’d be nearing the end. There weren’t very many passages left on the map.
    But it wasn’t quite that easy. Although the passage they were now approaching was large enough to walk comfortably in, even side-by-side if they wished—the first of its kind in a while—its floor lay beneath four inches of standing water.
    For a moment, the two of them stood in silence. They did not need to speak. They were both thinking the same thoughts. The imagination held no end to the things that could be in that stagnant and trash-littered water, from human filth and garbage juice to dead rats and live snakes.
    Albert stepped up to the water’s edge and shined his flashlight into the darkness ahead.
    “I’m…” Brandy’s voice failed her. There were no words to describe the disgust she felt at the thought of what she knew Albert was thinking. “No. I’m not wading through that.”
    “Maybe it’s just rainwater.”
    “And maybe it’s not.”
    The water was murky, but he could see the bottom. It was spotted with garbage, dead leaves and cigarette butts and a shimmering, oily film covered the surface. There was no current. He peered as far as his light would reach in both directions and then, satisfied that there were no bloodthirsty crocodiles waiting to snap off his legs, he stepped out into the water.
    “Oh, gross!”
    There was an icy sting to the water, and a smell wafted up from beneath him, like an old damp cellar, but with a subtle yet unmistakable swampy stench. “It’s okay. It’s only runoff from the street.”
    Brandy made a sound that was more a growl than a response.
    “Come on. It’s not that bad.”
    “I’m not getting my shoes in that.”
    Albert felt a pang of impatience. He understood that it was not an entirely pleasant idea, but he could certainly think of much worse situations than having to wade through dirty water. “So take them off.”
    “No way!”
    They stood there, staring at each other. Albert saw the cobwebs on her shirt and in her hair and felt his impatience drain away as quickly as it came. He was eager to reach the destination on the map. His curiosity was driving him. He hadn’t really been aware of what she must be feeling. He opened his mouth to apologize, but she didn’t give him the chance. With a frustrated groan, she stepped off into the water. Her face twisted into an expression of pure disgust as it spilled over her heels and soaked into her socks.
    Albert stood there a moment, watching her. He suddenly felt very bad.
    “Well come on!” she snapped when he didn’t move, and he turned quickly to lead the way. He still wanted to apologize, but he sensed it would do no good.
    They waded on, their flashlight beams reflecting off the rippling surface of the water, making the moldy concrete walls shimmer. The next turn was about twenty feet down the tunnel, and the small but dry passageway that awaited them was a welcome sight.
    “That was horrible.”
    “It was just drainage.”
    “I don’t care.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    Brandy shook her head. “Forget it.” In the end, it was her decision to follow him. It wasn’t his fault that the passage was flooded. “Are we almost there yet?”
    “I think