The sound of water grew louder. It did not sound like the hollow echo of dripping pipes, either, but water actually flowing, accompanied by the salty tang of a sea breeze.
Cliff led the way, his metal feet striking the flagstones with a dull, steady rhythm. Dick followed him, his flashlight beam swaying in the dark, illuminating the wet moss on the vaulted ceiling. His legs felt like lead. Every step took an effort of will just to lift his feet off the ground. Batman brought up the rear, his cape dragging through the mud and water, like a drenched shadow.
"There's light."
Cliff suddenly stopped, and the light on his arm pointed toward the end of the passage. A hazy patch of gray-white lay ahead: real, natural light.
The three of them quickened their pace. The light grew brighter, shifting from gray-white to pale gold, then from pale gold to a dazzling white. Here, the passage became an arch, and cold water surged through cracks in the floor, rising past their ankles. Seawater had eaten pits into the brickwork along the walls, leaving it like so many pockmarked faces.
The exit was a semicircular archway carved with illegible markings. Silt blocked half of it, while the other half offered a hole just large enough to squeeze through.
Beyond the hole lay gray skies and the sea.
Dick crawled out, slipped on the gravel slope, and banged his knee against the ground. He ignored the pain. He simply tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and opened his mouth, letting the damp, salty breeze sweeping across the water slap his face and fill his throat and lungs, like a plant on the verge of withering that had finally found rain.
Batman came out last, his cape catching on the opening.