Chapter 527 Fleeing Squaters

Chapter 527 Fleeing Squaters

The homeless people from before had all exited the tunnels by now, and were running top side, screaming, "Monsters! There are monsters in the tunnels!"

Most people just bolted across the streets, avoiding the crazy-talking homeless people with all their might. But the wandering cops on the streets couldn't do the same.

Stopping some of them as they ran by, with their hands raised in a sign of peace, they got him to talk.

"Please, sir, calm down. Explain what you mean by monsters. And where exactly in the tunnels?"

The bewildered person they stopped was an old man, who the simple action of running top side had already exhausted. The old man stopped for a moment, taking in a few gulps of air, before explaining in between gasps.

"In the tunnels... Three monsters! They transformed... right before our eyes! One of them even caught fire!"

The pair of police officers looked at the old homeless man with a strange look.

"Sir. Do you need help? Should we call an ambulance for you?"

The homeless man frowned at their question.

"I don't need your help! Do your jobs and go kill those monsters!" he shouted, taking a step back from them.

The police officers raised their hands in peace again.

"Alright, sir. No need to get agitated. Just show us where the monsters are."

The old man's eyes widened in fear again.

"I'm not going back there! They're in the maintenance tunnels that used to service the metro lines! You can go there yourselves!"

After shouting this, the old man bolted in a different direction, getting away from the law enforcers, as they looked at each other, bewildered.

"The heck did that man consume?" one officer asked, relaxing again.

The other looked at him with a wry smile.

"Right? But... Shouldn't we at least... go... check?"

His partner looked at him weirdly.

"Did you knock your head this morning? Why would we go into the tunnels on the word of a sloshed old man? He could have been high on any kind of substance, and hallucinated all this."

"I get that..." the other police officer said.

"But what if he wasn't under influence? You saw the others running as well. They can't possibly all be off their rockers, right?" he added.

This caused the first one to doubt his words as well. They could attribute a single mad old man to many factors.

But a dozen homeless people running away, with apparent fear in their eyes? It could hardly be a coincidence.

Sighing loudly, he started walking toward where the homeless had come. He knew a service entrance not too far from there, anyway.

"Alright... Let's go have a look. But if there's nothing weird, we're getting right out, and we don't say a word to anyone about this ever again. I don't want to be called the loony cop for the rest of my service..."

Walking a few blocks from their current position, the two police officers made their way into a dirty alley. The alley they walked into was the same one David, Alex, and Kary had walked in previously.

When the cops got to the service entrance, the older one immediately noticed something strange. Aside from the open trapdoor, which should be closed and pad-locked, he also noticed the smashed lock on the ground.

But it showed no signs of being cut or smashed open. No.

It looked like something had pulled on it with enough strength to tear it to pieces.

As the cop picked it up, the shape of the lock strangely rested in his hand. The lock was bent on itself, with clear dents on it.

Grabbing the lock, sliding his fingers on the dents, he frowned.

"Whatcha got there, partner? The other one asked him."

"The lock. But something's weird about the way it's broken..."

"What do you mean? It's not cut?"

The older cop shook his head.

"No. It looks like something ripped it off. As if they pulled on it extremely hard until it stretched and snapped. But something is weird about the shape."

"Hmm. What is?"

The older cop closed his hand on the lock, his fingers resting perfectly on the dents on the lock.

"It fits perfectly in my hand. But it's impossible to tear a lock open with your bare hands. That would require an ungodly amount of grip strength."

The other shook his hand dismissively.

"That's highly unlikely. Maybe the chains they wrapped around it to pull caused those dents. They probably had it hooked up to the back of their car, or something, to rip it open."

"Hmm. You're probably right... But where is the car now? Isn't it strange that they tore the lock open and just left?"

Even though it was the young cop that had insisted they come to check, his idea of it was to verify the entrance, and then leave. He hadn't wanted to be more thorough, just pretend to be.

But now that his old-timer partner found something weird, he got the feeling he would want to investigate further. That meant going down into the service tunnels, almost assuredly.

He sighed heavily, already knowing where this was going.

"Alright... I wanted to come check. Let's go check."

As he said this, a resounding screech echoed from the entrance to the service tunnel. Both men felt a feral sense of fear assaulting them, like whatever made that noise was their death coming for them.

"Holy fuck! What the hell was that?! Are you sure you want to go down there?!" the young one asked, his hand back on his gun.

The older man was clutching his heart, as it was skipping beats in his chest.

"Do we even have a choice now? We have to find out what caused that sound. There could be people in danger..."

Clenching his teeth, the young one did what his job entailed, and that was ensuring the public's safety. He climbed down the ladder that led into the dark underbelly of the city.

Reaching down there, his partner followed behind him, both of them pulling out their flashlights and guns, raising them at the ready.

"Let's go," the older one said, taking the lead.