The Tyrant's Tomb

“Remember what I said,” Frank told me.
“Why are you doing this?” I wheezed.
“It’s the only way. If we’re lucky, we’re buying time.”
“Buying time?”
“For godly help to arrive. That’s still happening, right?”
I gulped. “Maybe?”
“Apollo, please tell me you did the summoning ritual.”
“I did!”
“Then we’re buying time,” Frank insisted.
“And if help doesn’t arrive?”
“Then you’ll have to trust me. Do what I told you. On my cue, get out of
the tunnel.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant. We weren’t in the tunnel, but our chat time
had ended. Commodus and Caligula closed in on us simultaneously.
“Gravel in the eyes, Zhang?” Caligula snarled. “Really?”
Their blades crossed as Caligula pushed Frank toward the mouth of the
Caldecott Tunnel…or was Frank letting himself be pushed? The clang of
metal against metal echoed through the empty passageway.
Commodus tugged his own sword free of the asphalt. “All right, Apollo.
This has been fun. But you need to die now.”
He howled and charged, his voice booming back at him from the depths
of the tunnel.
Echoes, I thought.
I ran for the Caldecott.
Echoes can be confusing for people who depend on their hearing. Inside
the shaft, I might have more luck avoiding Commodus. Yes…that was my
strategy. I wasn’t simply panicking and running for my life. Entering the
tunnel was a perfectly levelheaded, well-reasoned plan that just happened to
involve me screaming and fleeing.
I turned before Commodus overtook me. I swung my ukulele, intending
to imprint its soundboard on his face, but Commodus anticipated my move.
He yanked the instrument out of my hands.
I stumbled away from him, and Commodus committed the most heinous
of crimes: with one huge fist, he crumpled my ukulele like an aluminum can
and tossed it aside.
“Heresy!” I roared.