by Liz Hyder
Help me Thomas, I says to myself in my head. Help me.
There are piles o rocks in playces and some o the wooden supports across the roofs are broken, harf fallen in. We skweeze past em and neether o us says nothin but we both kno this is a one way trip.
Ent just the end o the Mayker this time, tis the end o Bearmouth and all.
Either we gets out o here forever or we lies here forever til we all do turn to dust.
We splashes past the tunnel that leads to the dorm, past the mess hall passidge and it dos get more noisy wi the run runnin o water down the sides o the walls and straynge rumbles in the earf itself.
Down down we go, to the belly o the pit. Further further into deepest Bearmouth.
Tis down here, I says.
Devlin holds his candul up and looks, checkin down each post as I do the sayme on the uvver side.
There ent no flower.
Shore tis here? he says and in truth I ent.
I tryes to remember but all I kno is that tis on the way to the ponys and it ent a trip I did too often and so it ent a roote I kno well. Thomas always led the way see, sayve that las time we did go and see Boy. One tunnel is much lyke anuvver when you ent famileear wi em.
Tis further on, I says hopin beyond hope that I am ryte. Ent far, I says, just round the corner and down.
We go to carry on but Devlin stops me and his fayce dos go more pale than usual as we heads downwuds.
What? I says.
He looks down at the floor.
The water. Tis splish sploshin and harfway up my boots now. Worst o all, I can sees it risin.
We must hurry, I says and we carryes on til we come to a junkshun.
Left or ryte? says Devlin. Newt. Left or ryte?
I stand there and I dunt rytely kno.
Newt, he says. Please.
I holds out my hands hopin for a sine but there ent one. I must guess tis all.
This way, I says and strides forwud to the left. I touch the wooden post as I go throo for luck. Please let me be ryte, I whispers to myself.
If the water carryes on gettin higher we ent even goin to be able to see the flower, he says.
I nods, splashin throo the water as we xamine each post in turn but all I sees is damp wood.
Devlin shouts. Here, he says. Newt! I found it. He hugs me, nearly blowin out the candul. Tis here, he says.
I looks at it and I ent shore to be honest, I carnt truly remember what he drew afore cept that twas a flower I dunt kno.
Tis what I drew, he says. Am certain o it.
I looks at him in the flickrin lyte and I crosses my fingers.
Do it, he says. Lyte the dynamyte. Do it Newt.
Ent that simple, I says, sposed to drill a hole and—
We dunt have time for any o that, he says.
We could bring the whole playce down on our head, I says.
I looks at him in front o me, the water swell swellin up my calves, sinkin into my boots, throo the holes and into my socks. Cold and wet. We stares at each uvver a moment.
Come on, I says. There must be a gap. However small, must be, else you wunt o smelld it.
I peers and peers and tis too dark for a body to mayke out anythin else but the ruggedness o the rocks.
Devlin holds the candul up close but I carnt see anything. The water is rise risin all the time.
Got to mayke a decishun, I says, heart hammerin in my chest, feelin my panick risin wi the waters.
Do it, he says. Do it Newt. However you can. Tis our only chance.
I finds a smallish crevise smaller than my fist but big enuff to just hold the end o the stick o dynamyte.
Need small rocks to wedge it in, I says.
I feels the water wet on my nees and can feel the power o it rush rushin past me.
Ent got time for that, says Devlin and he pulls out a hankercheef and hands it to me. Ram it in wi that, he says.
Fuse ent long, I say.
Then we lyte it and run, he says.
Shore? I says.
He nods.
The stick holds steddy in the wall but tis a short fuse and it ent goin to give us more than a handful o moments to find shelter fore it blows.
Reddy? I says and he nods.
Go on, he says.
I fumbles in my pockit for my matchiss but as I go to lyte one my fingers are tremblin so much that I drops the whole tin.
It disappeers in the waters, lost.
I curse and curse but Devlin reetches into his pockit and offers me his tin.
Cayreful, he says and I nods.
Fingers tremblin I do it. I lyte the fuse.
Mayker sayve us, I says as he grabs the tin back.
And we run.
I am underwater.
Bubbles shoot from my nose.
I am thrown lyke a rag doll in a river.
I scrabbles, arms weel weelin tryin to pull myself up to breeth.
I smack against the rocks.
Legs bashd. Arms bruisd.
I hit my head.
Pain.
Sharp sharp pain.
And then blackness.
Air.
I choke.
Coff.
Air.
I breeth.
Gaspin. Raspin for more.
My head feels lyke I been batterd in all the fytes I did ever see.
Limbs lyke lead.
I groan.
I am alive.
Shallow water by my hands. I touch it.
Head back. Legs low.
I am bent over backwuds. Sore. Harf broken.
I remembers. The fuse. Runnin.
I am me.
I am alive.
And then I remembers.
Devlin. I whispers it.
Devlin.
I shouts it. Devlin. Shouts it again and again. Devlin. Devlin.
But answer comes there none.
Slowly I pulls myself up to sittin. Groanin achin all over.
I pull my legs to me and sit there in the dark. Wet all over, my clothin dos cling to me lyke a second skin. I feels the heat on my cheek where that thing the Master poynted did burn me. It feels sore lyke when my nostril was first slit in the mine. I listern but there ent nothin, just darkness.
Wherere I was swept to, this ent no outside. Tis as black as Bearmouth for shore. But I hear as I shouts Devlins nayme that this is some kind o cavern, my voyce dos ring back at me echoin round the walls.
This ent Bearmouth no more. This ent no mine. Tis a cayve that ent o mans maykin.
But it dunt matter much as seems to me I am no better off than before.
Trappd in the dark and no more dynamyte. I feels in my pockits and there are two stumps o canduls but then I remembers the matchiss. The droppd tin swept away. Devlins tin back in his hand.
I got lytes but nothin to lyte em wi.
And where so ever I am I dunt kno it. I carnt feels my way around.
I am all alone.
I hugs my legs tyte to me. Mind raycin away. No food. Even if I can drink the water, I ent goin to last long here.
Starvin away on my own in the dark.
I lets out a sob and it echos around. My own wailin comin back at me.
I sits there sob sobbin away til I am all out o tears.
Ent no good feelin sorry for yourself, I says to myself.
I dunt kno rytely how long I sits there for. Thinkin. Wondrin what to do. Starin into the blackness for what feels lyke forever.
Cos all o a sudden, there in the far distance. A tiny lyte flick flickers and wi it, a tiny bit o hope lytes in me. I ent alone arfter all.
I shouts, Devlin Devlin, and I hears it echo round me. Devlin Devlin.
And then o blessd relief.
Newt, I hears. Newt is that you? Newt Newt.
My own nayme dos wrap around me lyke a blanket.
I am alive.
And so is he.
I scrambles over rocks towards the lyte, splashin throo pools o water and stumblin towards him.
&nb
sp; His fayce is bruisd and cut lyke Im shore myne is too.
You mayde it, he says and bursts into tears.
I hugs him so tyte that I fayre think Ill skweeze the very air out o him.
I am not alone.
I thawt I was dun for, I says, my own fayce wet wi tears and stingin the burn on my cheek.
He nods, wypin his fayce.
Ent manly to cry, he says, sniffin.
I shrugs.
Dunt matter, I says. Dunt cayre bout any o that. We are alive. Both o us.
I thawt youd drownd, he says. Thawt I had too. Then cayme to here. Where are we?
I looks around me, candul flickrin as the wet wick struggles to stay alyte.
Tis a huge cavern the lykes o which I ent ever seen before. Bigger than the Maykers Hall. Bigger than anythin.
Look, he says.
On the far side theres what looks lyke a body leanin up against the cayve wall.
We goes over to it warily, the pair o us and Devlin holds the lyte up.
I recognise the fayce but he is o so much thinner now than when I saw him. Pale bruisd skin hangin off sharp cheeks.
Not banishd afer all then, I says. Tis Rickerbee. They must o left him to starve poor bugger. Somehow he got his way out o Bearmouth and mayde it out here.
I tayke Rickerbees cold hand, nobbly wi the drippins o his last candul, and skweeze it.
Tis alryte now fella, I says, none o em can do you no more harm now. Not Walsh, not the Master, not none o them. All gone forever and ever amen.
I smyles at Rickerbee and pats his hand and then I see there is a faynte smyle on his fayce and he is lookin up and so I look up too.
On the rocks above our heads there are animals drawn in browns and reds and blacks. Herds o cattal or somethin run runnin.
Pictures, I whisper. Look.
Devlin hands me the candul and I holds it up high gainst the rocks. The lyte flickers and the animals do fayre look lyke they myte run off the rocks and into real life.
I shivers.
Lyke magickal things, I say and then I sees it behind Devlin. Red handprints on the wall. Three o them, diffrent sizes. I holds my own hand up and playce it on top o the middle one and it dos fit perfektly.
How long they been here for? I whispers.
Fore us, says Devlin. Fore Rickerbee. Fore time itself praps.
Meens people been here before, I says. Meens theres a way out.
Devlin snorts.
Thawt that before. And yet we still ent out are we? Still in the dark. And Rickerbee never found a way out, that much tis cleer.
How many canduls you got? I says and Devlin pulls out one barely touchd candul.
I just got stumps, I says and holds mine out. No food but we got your candul lit now, your spayre one, my stumps and your matchiss too, I says. I dips my finger in the water by my boots and taystes it. It dos seem alryte. Water and all, I says. We got more than Rickerbee had, his last candul did melt all the way down til it was just drops in his hand. We got lytes tho, for a while at leest.
So, says Devlin. Which way now?
I poyntes strayte ahead where the cavern narrows down one end and it dos look awfull dark. Tis the direkshun the herds in the pictures do seem to be runnin in.
Shore? he says.
And I shrugs. Worth a try, I says.
He offers his hand and I taykes it.
Come on, he says.
Farewell Rickerbee, I says. Rest in peace.
Amen, says Devlin.
And the two o us head off into the darkness.
At the end o the cavern is a small crevise, tyte enuff that I can only just skweeze throo it.
I goes first, holdin Devlins candul til it is fayre too hard to hold it and push myself throo but I knoks it against the rock and pft it goes out. Darkness again.
You alryte Newt? I hears Devlin say from behind me.
Alryte, I shout back as best I can. Tis tyte around me as I pull and push myself throo. Twill be more o a skweeze for Devlin.
I scraypes my elbows throo and breethes out maykin my chest small and tyte, I tryes not to think about if I get stuck.
In the darkness, I remembers flashes o all that has happend. Thomas. Tobe. Walshs hands on me. The Masters fayce as the rocks tumbld towards him.
I closes my eyes and thinks o Thomas.
Please, I thinks. Please. One more push.
And then I am out. There is spayce, my arms are free. I pulls myself out and gingerly feel the walls around me, spayce enuff to stand but I hits my head on somethin and curse.
Newt, I hears him say. Newt.
Im alryte, I says. Tis tyte but Ill pull you throo.
It dos tayke an ayge to wriggall him out.
He cayrefullee lytes his candul when hes sayfely throo.
Fyve more matchiss left, he says, countin, but then our breath is fayre tayken away.
We stand in a faery ice land. White pillars reetch down from the roof and stretch up from the floor.
Tis what I must o hit my head on.
They gleam and glimmer in the lyte lyke pillars in a castle.
I reetch out and go to touch one and Devlin stops me.
What are they? he says. Are they sayfe?
Thomas once told me o such things, I says wi wonder in my voyce. Tis drippins from the rocks, salts and stuff. They must be hundreds o years old, I says as I gentlee touch one. Cold and wet under my hand. Lyke ice but not.
Tis wondrous, Devlin whispers and I smyles at him.
If I never live anuvver day Im glad I saw this one, he says.
I hold the candul up and the pillars go on and on into the distance.
Tis lyke nothin else, I say.
We move slowly throo the cayve o pillars, weevin our way, steppin over small ones, duckin our heads from the ones reetchin down.
I thinks o how Thomas wuld o loved to see this and I crumpall inside a moment.
Come on, says Devlin pattin me on the back. Keep movin.
I am alive, I thinks to myself. Gainst all the odds. I am alive.
We pulls and pushs ourselves throo so many cayves and tunnels that I do fayre lose count.
Cayves wi tiny spiders all legs and white lyke threads from a sheet.
Cayves wi a bad feel to them lyke somethin bad happend when you wunt lookin.
One wi dryde up bones o some big animal in a corner and a curvd bone lyke a sword. Bones so big I ent ever seen the lyke.
I dunt rytely kno how long we goes on for but we reetches the end o one cayve and all there is is water. Tis a dead end.
How deep is it? I says lookin into my reflekshun flick flickrin in the candul lyte.
I see me lookin back. Thin. Tired. A dark lyne down one cheek. The water black as a mirror.
I look at Devlin.
Rest or go on? I says. We been movin for an ayge.
We ent got no food, he says.
But a body can replenish wi sleep carnt it? I says. Cos if this is too deep, if tis truly a dead end an we got to go back, we needs all the energy we can get.
Fyve more matchiss, he says. Tis all.
I kno, I says.
He looks at me and thinks.
Alrtye, he says. We rest.
I find a smooth bit on the floor to curl up on and he dos the sayme. His back to my back, keepin in the warmth.
He blows out the lyte.
We lies there in the darkness, silence wrappd round us.
Devlin, I whispers and I feels him shift behind me. What happens when we get out o here? Where will we go?
You can come live wi me if you lyke Newt, he says. Tis only fayre I help you lyke you helpd me.
I think about this, about how all things seem both possible and impossible, and I smyles to myself.
I thawt you was the Devil when you turnd up, I says. Lyke your nayme was a warnin.
He grunts.
I dunt rytely kno how Ill be topside, I says. I dunt barely remember things fore Bearmouth.
Youre strong Newt, he says. Stronge
st person I ever did kno. Yule be ryte as rain back up there.
We lies there in silence for a bit.
I am a murderer, I says.
Devlin snorts. No you ent. Twas self defence, Walsh wuld o killd you and we both knos it. Besides, he says, we did free all o Bearmouth.
We did, I says. Sayve those men that got crushd in the crowd.
Twas not our fawlt Newt, he says. You must remember that. A mob o men will act diffrent to single folk. Twas not our fawlt. How many more wuld o died down the mine if we hadunt dun what we did?
That much tis true, I says.
Alryte, he says.
I thinks about it a moment. Alryte, I says.
I lay there thinkin. And I want to say it. So I do. I must. If I say it out loud then it is real.
I ent who you think I am, I says.
How dyou meen? he says.
I ent a lad arfter all, I says.
A man you meen? he says.
No, I says. I thinks to myself for a moment. Twill be the first time I have sed it out loud.
I ent a lad at all, I says. Thomas, he did hide the truth for many years. I ent a lad at all see, I am a gel.
But there ent no wimmin down the mines, he says.
I kno, I says. Tis why Thomas lied, keep me sayfe see.
Youre a gel? he says. Puzzld.
I am a gel, I says. And it feels funny lyke sayin it out loud. So I larfs. I am a gel, I says. I am a gel, I says again louder.
And he starts larfin too. Youre a gel, he says and I shouts it.
I am Newt, I shouts, hearin it echo. I am Newt and I am a gel.
I larf and he larfs. I larf til I am helpless, til I feel tears o murth down my cheeks.
I am a gel, I say. Whisperin. I am a gel.
Devlin sniffs. Back still to myne.
Well you myte be a gel but youre still the brayvest person I ever did meet. And you will always be my best frend.
Tis a long time arfter that when sleep finally comes.
I am Newt. And I am a gel.
And it dunt sound so bad arfter all.
When I waykes, Devlin is gone from behind me. I hears a tricklin in the corner and I kno that he dos answer a call o nayture.
Newt, he says. You awayke?
I am, I says. I been thinkin too. I need to see Ma when I get out. See her and see shes alryte and stuff. But…