Free Ixeos: Book One of the Ixeos Trilogy by Jennings Wright

tunnel system is new—say a subway system or an underground mall—it’s not always open. It may take a few days for it to come back. The longest we’ve had to wait so far is two weeks, in Crystal City, Virginia. That’s a part of DC with an enormous underground mall. There’s a second portal to DC, through some old sewer tunnels that are no longer in service, so we try to use those unless we need to be in the southern part of the city fast.”
    “What happens if you can’t get back for two weeks?” Neahle asked.
    “You just keep on with your mission. If you have a short assignment, say to deliver a message, and you can’t get back, the rebels or any of our people on the ground can put you to work. If you are participating in a long term operation you just get back to work and check the door every day. It always opens eventually.”
    “Eventually. Great.” Neahle blew out a sigh.
    Laughing, Vasco entered the tunnel, stooping over. “Watch your head, this one’s low!”
    “Where are we going?” Marty asked.
    “To one of the oldest tunnels we have—a city that was called Gadara in ancient times. It was part of the Decapolis in Jordan. It’s got an old Roman aqueduct that was originally about ninety-five kilometers long. Where we’re going, it’s only about four hundred meters long and not super exciting. Just a tunnel cut out of rock. There’s nothing in Gadara—or Umm Qais as they called it in modern times—anymore. It was eliminated. But it’s pretty, with hills and fields, and it’s not far from the Sea of Galilee. We’ve got a couple of bikes there so we can go down to the lake, maybe even a swim.”
    “A swim!” Neahle said. Their bathing to date had been sponge baths from plastic buckets and one soak in a small reservoir. “That’s excellent!”
    Moving forward, they quickly lost any light from the torch they’d left behind. Neahle had her right hand on the wall to keep her bearings; she realized that the rock had changed. Whereas the rock in the Paris tunnels was cool and always at least a little damp to the touch, the rock under her hand now was crumbly, dry, and slightly warm. She saw that there was dim light ahead. As her eyes adjusted, the walls looked no longer dark brown; they were now light grey. As the tunnel roof receded and she could stand upright, she looked around.
    “Dorothy, we’re not in Kansas anymore,” Marty whispered.

    They wound their way out of the ancient tunnel following Vasco, who had lit a new torch. The stone walls were roughly chiseled and Neahle learned quickly to tuck her arms tight to her sides to keep from being scraped.
    “The Romans dug wells first, then chiseled through and connected them to each other in a line. In some places the aqueduct was two hundred and sixty feet deep,” Vasco told them as they aimed for a dim light ahead.
    “How come there’s no water now?” Clay asked.
    “The pipe started in Syria and ran above ground for about sixty or sixty-five kilometers to the cities of the Decapolis, then went underground. The swamp where it started has been dried up for centuries, and the pipe that was above ground was destroyed centuries ago, which is good for us.”
    “It’d be a long way to swim,” Marty said.
    “Here we go…” Vasco pushed aside a wall of dried shrubs and they found themselves standing in an access shaft. A stone retaining wall held a hillside at bay. The arched opening was still solid because of perfectly fitted stone. As they came out into the open, a flat expanse of green stretched out before them.
    “Wow, that’s beautiful!” Neahle said, squinting in the bright light. They hadn’t seen the sun in a week; it felt marvelous on their skin but a little less marvelous to their eyes.
    Little yellow flowers dotted the landscape and a line of short trees and shrubs marked the edge of a hill.
    “So there’s nobody here anymore?” Marty asked.
    Vasco shook his head. “No. Most of the Middle East was deemed Third World