What the hell was that thing!  Andy’s mind screamed as he coughed out the remaining cesspool water from his throat.  The putrid air stung his nose and made his eyes water.  It took a second for his head to clear.  Christ, I nearly drowned.  Thankfully, he’d paid attention during the forced swimming lessons his foster parents insisted were so important.  However, style and grace went right out the window.  He kicked and slapped at the oil-soaked surface until his fingers scrapped the bricks of the chamber’s walls.  Relief flooded through his body.  Now, all he had to do was figure out how to get out of this place.  His gaze drifted up the wall and around what little he could see of the perimeter.  There!  Weak light spilled from one of the upper tunnels.  He should be able to find his way back to the surface–if he could get up there.

Andy stayed still for a moment, clinging to the wall like a piece of seaweed caught on a dock.  Slowly, his eyes adjusted, but he could only make out vague shapes.  He scanned the chamber again, but didn’t spot anything resembling a ladder.  Why didn’t I think to bring one of those flashlights that my foster parents keep for emergencies?  Because, they might hear me get it out of the kitchen drawer, that’s why.  Muttered curses slipped past his lips.  There has to be a way out of here.  He fumbled along the wall, letting his fingers do the majority of the searching. 

His knuckles smacked against metal. 

“Ouch!”  The echo bounced off the walls and skipped down the upper pipes as if it was saying, ‘I can reach it, but you can’t!’  His fingers burned, the nasty water soaking into the scrapes and filling them with whatever bacteria lived in its soiled depths.  He shook his hand, but it didn’t help any.  Andy bit his lip and then carefully felt along the wall.  This time, he found the metal pipe without causing himself further injury.

His fingers danced up and down its length until he found a cross pipe attached.  He followed that one across and discovered it was connected to another vertical pipe.  This has to be a ladder!  Gripping one of the verticals, he pulled his body to it.  A faint smile graced his otherwise sour mood.  Perhaps, there was still hope of getting home and cleaned up before his foster parents realized he wasn’t in bed.

The hairs on the back of his neck bristled and his teeth chattered as the temperature seemed to plummet.  The chill penetrated his flesh, muscles and bone–digging icy fingers into his soul.  In the ten years since his birth, he couldn’t recall ever feeling like this.  He swallowed back the fear and, still trembling, turned to look.

Through the inky darkness a figure emerged.

A scream ripped from his throat.  He flung himself backwards, fear over-riding all thought.  Blinding pain exploded across the back of his head as fowl water filled his lungs.