The Ungulpable

Walking into the tunnel felt like passing through an underground junction. The cool air carried a stagnant smell, seemingly untouched by fresh waves in decades.

And yet, the air system pumped enough oxygen into the dark grey path, lit by tiny lamps lining the walls.

Touching the wet-looking wall made her realize the vision was an illusion. Instead of moisture, her fingertips stayed dry – just like the air. Its tangy odor scratched her throat. The urge to swallow grew stronger. The more she tried, the worse it felt, like an un-gulpable ball lodged deep inside her throat.

She felt her family behind her. Laughing, joking, or just taking in the view in silence. A view she didn’t see. A view seemingly hidden away by tons of gravel and impenetrable rock.

She knew she had to walk faster. The guide was already far ahead.

She needed to focus. Ignore the occasional pungent smell of oil. Its odor filled her nose, stuck in the still air, engulfing her. Hugging her. She could feel it. It was on her arms, her face, her mouth.

Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe.

She looked ahead. The hallway seemed endless. A sharp pain flared. She couldn’t ignore the rising pressure inside her chest any longer. Swallowing tasted like metal. Like blood – but different.

Her vision sickened, like a living nightmare. Her eyes felt hazy. Her insides were screaming.

Get out.

But she knew. She had to stay.

Only two hours further.