by Maurice Gee
Mr Jones’s voice was in her head. ‘This goes on right under the island. So just relax.’
She lay back and tried to obey. She closed her eyes. It was like being in a train – an underground train. Or in one of those tubes that delivered money and dockets in old-fashioned department stores. She would have enjoyed it if the smell of the Wilberforces had not been so strong. It was growing: it was so thick now she could feel it curling round her like steam. She tried to ignore it. Was Ricky safe? she wondered. How long before the Wilberforces realised they had been tricked? And what would Aunt Noeline and Uncle Clarry be thinking? She remembered her parents then. She thought of them reading the paper by the fire, working side by side in the milking-shed, drinking bottles of beer in the sun. Would she ever see them again?
The Wilberforce smell grew stronger. She could almost see it, yellow-green, like bad water in an old forgotten can.
Suddenly they burst into the open. She heard Theo yell. Her eyes were filled with red light. She was sliding through dust on a level floor. Then her feet struck Theo in the back and shot him forward. In another few metres he came to a stop and she slid along his side. Her legs plunged into something cold as snow. Whatever it was it felt horrible: cold, sticky, filthy. Theo yelled again, this time with disgust. He scrambled backwards, half running, half crawling. She followed in the same way, her hands plunging wrist-deep in dust, until Mr Jones caught her shoulder with one of his glowing hands.
‘Calm down. There’s nothing to harm you.’
‘My legs.’ They were coated with slime.
‘It’s mud, that’s all. You both went into the mud pond. It’s nasty but it won’t do you any harm.’
His hand was warm and as he kept his grip she felt the iciness go out of her legs.
‘It’s like porridge,’ Theo said. ‘Where are we?’
‘In one of their halls.’
They looked about them. The light came from a single clear red beam descending from a rocky ceiling high above them. As Rachel looked she understood its source.
‘That comes from Johan.’
‘Yes, Rachel. Straight down through the rock.’
It struck the rounded top of a cliff that rose out of the mud a hundred metres or more away and there it disappeared. Rachel stared. The chamber was huge, it stretched away into the distance over the clifftop. It was larger, she thought, than any cave ever discovered or any hall ever built and she was filled with awe that it had been hollowed out by living creatures. It was large enough to house a warship or a giant tanker. But it was not for that. Somewhere up there on that huge black cliff was the worm that had built this place: a mindless body waiting for its brain. Waiting for its Wilberforce. It was held in the original spell, still held, by some tiny cluster of its cells, perhaps no more than would go to make one of her toe-nails. But held, all the same, till morning. And now it was pierced by the beam of light from Johan. She felt a great fear, but at the same time a dreadful desire to see it.
Theo too was staring ahead. He had scraped a handful of mud from his leg, looked at it closely, sniffed it, shivered, and tossed it away. This was the food of the worms, the mud they filtered their minerals from. And that meant … He fell back a step. He felt as if he were being steadily crushed into the ground.
‘Theo,’ Rachel whispered.
‘What?’
‘Where’s the worm? Is he on top of that cliff?’
‘No.’
‘Where is he?’
He looked at her, almost with pity. He made himself believe. What other explanation could there be? He put his arm round her shoulders.
‘You’re looking at him, Rachel.’
‘You mean …?’
‘What you thought was a cliff.’
‘Oh, no. No.’
‘He’s bigger than we thought.’ He was whispering now. And the light-beam shrank for both of them, Johan’s beam, until it seemed as thin as a cotton thread, more useless than a pin.
12
THE END OF THE WAR
Half an hour later they were standing at the entrance of another tunnel. Mr Jones had left them for a moment to see if the Wilberforces were still watching Ricky. The huge cavern was silent except for the dripping of water from its ceiling. They were head-on to the worm now. Its shape was a half-circle, huge and black. Though the creature was blind it gave the impression of watching them with a single pink eye set in its snout just above the level of the mud. This was the hole the Wilberforce would fit into when the monster was freed.
Theo shivered. He hoped Mr Jones would not be long. If the worm rolled over or even moved its head it would send up a wave of mud that would smother them. He tried to keep up his courage by doing mathematics. The worm was not quite half a kilometre long (he had counted his steps as they ran along the narrow shelf of rock between the wall and the mud). That made it less than the size of a super-tanker. But it was solid so it probably weighed more. It was segmented like a garden worm but it had scales as well, each as big as a dustbin lid. They had passed several lying in the dust but when he had tried to move one it had budged only a fraction. That must make it heavy as lead – heavier. He saw how an army of these could turn the world into mud. No wonder the mountain’s erupting hadn’t damaged it. He tightened his hand on Lenart. It pulsed feebly, but its warmth was less than his own – and he was frozen.
Rachel stared at the beam of light. It was all that stopped her from screaming. It pierced the worm like a needle. She had done that. But the thing was so huge. Just the sight of it seemed to push her back against the wall, flatten her thin as paper. The tunnel was only a few steps away. If Mr Jones did not come soon she was going down – anything rather than stay here.
‘Where is he?’
‘He’ll come.’
‘The Wilberforces must have got him.’
‘No. Where do you think this tunnel goes?’
‘I don’t care. I’m going down.’
‘Hold on. Wait. He’s going to come soon.’
‘Oh Theo, I’m scared it’s going to wake up.’
‘Even if it did, it’s blind.’
‘It’s watching me. I know.’
‘Bullswool. Hey Rachel, look at that light from Johan. It’s got him fair through the middle. Like a spear.’
They crouched in the mouth of the tunnel, shivering, waiting. Suddenly Mr Jones was at their side.
‘All right. We can go now.’
‘Why were you so long?’
‘Easy, Rachel. I tried to lead them away, that’s all. Now come on, we don’t have much time.’
‘Away from what?’ Theo asked.
‘They were coming this way.’
‘But why? What about Ricky?’
‘It’s all right –’
‘What have they done to Ricky?’
‘Rachel, I’m sorry …’
‘Oh, tell me, please.’
Mr Jones took her hand. ‘I think he must have lost his nerve, Rachel. I’m sorry. He was very brave – but being that close to the Wilberforces … He must have tried to get away in the boat and they followed it and smashed it before he could get up speed.’
‘But Ricky? What happened?’
‘He’s – gone, Rachel.’
‘Do you mean dead?’
‘My dear … I’d hoped, I’d hoped so much … there’d be no more after Johan and Lenart.’
‘Drowned,’ she wailed. ‘Oh, Ricky.’ She seemed to be in the right place, down here in the cold, under the earth. She felt Theo’s mind on her own, trying to comfort her, and saw how angry, how determined he had become. But none of it helped. She wanted to sit here and weep and never move.
Theo and Mr Jones got her into the tunnel. She lay down and felt them start her moving. Then for hours it seemed the walls slipped by in a blur made more by her tears than by her speed. In fact the tunnel had a shallow slope and only its smoothness kept them moving. Now and then Theo bumped into her from behind and she felt the pressure of his feet on her shoulders. More tim
e went by. She looked about her and wondered if she had been sleeping. ‘Oh, Ricky,’ she sobbed.
Then the tunnel flattened out and she felt her motion stop. Theo slid to a halt beside her. He stood up and helped her to her feet. ‘Where are we now?’ She heard him ask.
‘Under the harbour. This is as deep as we go. You’ll have to walk from here.’
‘What’s this room?’
She looked about her. They were in another chamber but the only light here came from Mr Jones’s hands and it barely reached the walls. Dark patches in the gloom marked the entrances of other tunnels. She took this in without fear or curiosity. Her mind was not working now. It held one picture only – Ricky floating face down in a sea as black as oil.
‘Where do these tunnels lead?’ Theo asked.
‘This is the terminus. They all meet here. That one comes from the lake. And Mount Wellington over there. Mount Eden’s straight ahead, and One Tree Hill. Now come on. It won’t be long before they think of looking down here. Your footsteps are all through the dust in the worm-chamber. So we can’t hide. We’ve got to stay ahead. You go first. If Rachel sees you it might help her keep going.’
Theo went into the tunnel ahead, pulling Rachel after him by the hand. He lowered his head to keep it from brushing the ceiling and started to run with an easy loping stride. Rachel dropped a little behind, but she would keep up, he knew. She was good at running. The glow from Mr Jones’s hands lit the sides of the tunnel and cast a giant shadow down its middle. It was enough, there were no obstacles. Only the curve of the floor caught his feet at times and threatened to twist his ankles. He dropped his speed a little and glanced behind. Rachel was close to his back. The light shone through her hair but her face was in darkness. His grief was less than hers. Anger drove him on – anger with Mr Jones for getting Ricky killed and anger with the Wilberforces for killing him. There was nothing to do about Mr Jones – he was on their side. But at least he could get back at the Wilberforces. He was going to turn them into dust.
His neck and shoulders began to ache from bending. He slowed a little more.
‘Walk, Theo,’ came Mr Jones’s voice. ‘You can’t keep up that speed.’
Unexpectedly, Rachel said, ‘I can keep going.’
‘So can I. Are you all right now?’
‘Yes. We’ve got to get there.’
They kept on running. Rachel felt little tiredness in her body, but her mind was tired almost to the point of collapse. She knew she needed to sleep – sleep for days, bury the things that had happened on this holiday so deep they would never come back in their proper shapes. But first there was something that had to be done. Ricky was dead. And the Wilberforces who had killed him had to be turned into dust. Theo had to get to the crater. He had to get his stone into the crater. Ricky. Ricky dead. The Wilberforces. The Wilberforces alive. The thoughts followed one another like left foot and right.
The tunnel began to climb. They kept up their steady pace. Theo guessed they were somewhere near the point where the sea met the land, perhaps under the wharves. He wondered how they would get into the open again. He would have given anything to have been able to stand up straight.
At last they had to slow to a walk. Mr Jones came close behind them. His voice filled their minds. ‘You’ve done well. I think we’re going to make it.’
‘Run, Theo,’ Rachel said.
‘What?’
‘They’re coming. I can hear them.’
But Mr Jones’s hands were on their shoulders, holding them still. They crouched. And far away they heard a sound like the rushing of water from a tap in a room at the other end of a house.
‘It’s them.’
‘They’re coming down the slope. They’ve just come out of the worm-chamber.’
‘That’s the air we can hear,’ Theo said. ‘They’re pushing it ahead of them.’ And they felt a breeze lift their hair. With it came the smell.
‘Run, Theo, run.’
Their horror of the Wilberforces overwhelmed them again, yet they ran with determination as much as fear, with a grimness and anger that drove them on to a goal. The sound of the Wilberforces coming down the tunnel increased until it was like a stream in flood. The breeze grew stronger. Suddenly it became a rushing wind that stretched their hair in front of them. The Wilberforces had crossed the terminal chamber and entered the tunnel climbing to Mount Eden. They were no more than a minute or two behind and coming with the speed of an express train. But the twins’ own part of the tunnel levelled out. They sensed hollowness in front and a moment later burst into the open. They thought they were on the surface and the lack of stars and lack of a moon struck them with terror. Then the glow from Mr Jones’s hands showed them walls of rock. They were in another chamber: the worm-chamber under Mount Eden.
‘Keep going. This way.’
Mr Jones went ahead, trailing light behind him. They sped along a sloping ledge of rock. Far below, deep in a muddy basin, lay the worm. They saw it dimly, fleetingly. It had the appearance of an overturned battleship floating on the sea. The hole left by its Wilberforce made a pale mark on the black of its hide.
They ran shoulder to shoulder. Their feet made dead padding sounds in the dust. Mr Jones moved in a series of instantaneous leaps, vanishing each time they reached his side. The light from his hands grew dim then slowly increased.
‘How far?’
‘Just a short way.’
They saw the dark shape of another tunnel in the wall of rock. But if this corkscrewed up to the surface they were lost. They would never climb it. The thought came to them both in the same instant – and a second later came the hissing slithering sound of the Wilberforces bursting into the open. One, two, three. The giant males. A single flat triumphant quack echoed in the chamber.
‘In you go. Quick.’
They crouched, went into the tunnel – and stopped, for after a dozen steps it climbed and began to turn. Their feet found no grip on its glassy surface.
‘We can’t –’
‘Stand still. Do nothing. I’m going to take you up.’
And he changed into his natural shape: he became a huge golden-red flame that burned and flickered from the entrance of the tunnel up to the place where they waited.
It advanced steadily, flowed over them with a warm gentle pressure, swallowed them. They caught hold of each other, saw each other through a golden haze that made Rachel think of honey, of nectar, of bees. And there was a faint humming sound, a hive sound, in her ears. She was not frightened. She smiled. She almost felt as if she were in bed, sleeping peacefully, dreaming.
‘Be still, children.’ The voice was in their heads, cool, remote, alien, and gentle. They began to move. Through the light they saw the walls slide by. Rachel found no way of estimating their speed. But Theo set himself to mark the turns. If this tunnel was made on the same plan as the one under Rangitoto he should be able to work out how fast they were going. And in a moment he knew it was not fast enough – not more than an easy running pace. The Wilberforces would be able to do better. They had built the tunnel to suit their style of moving. So everything depended on how close to the surface they were.
Rachel caught his fear. She turned her head and looked back. Through the golden light she watched the walls of the tunnel turn away and disappear. At any moment she expected to see the snout of a Wilberforce grow forward from the vanishing point. The creatures were in the tunnel now – they must be. And through the thin substance of Mr Jones’s body she imagined she felt the rushing wind of their coming and smelt their smell.
The body jerked, and went on.
‘Easy, my children.’ His voice was straining now, its remoteness gone. And Rachel knew that Mr Jones had saved himself for this climb. He was pouring the last of his strength, the very last strength of his people, into it. After this he would be able to do no more.
‘They can’t catch us,’ Theo said. ‘Not in the tunnel at least.’
‘Why?’
‘They’re pus
hing us along. The wind – the pressure. We’re going faster. Can’t you feel it?’
‘But when we get to the top –’
‘It’ll blow the valve out like a cork from a bottle.’
A gentle, tired voice sounded in their heads: ‘Theo the scientist.’
They turned, they climbed.
‘How far back are they, Mr Jones?’
‘Not far. Are you ready?’
‘Yes.’
‘Goodbye, my son.’
They were suddenly hurtled round. A roaring filled their ears. The moon spun crazily in a red-gold haze. The flame-body twisted sideways out of the savage wind released from the tunnel and settled on the slope like a butterfly. It vanished. Rachel and Theo lay side by side on a bank of grass. Beside them was Mr Jones, moving with an agonising slowness. ‘Away, boy,’ came his voice, so feeble it was no more than a whisper in Theo’s head.
He ran. Clasping Lenart, he ran.
‘What can we do?’ Rachel asked.
‘Pray for him.’
The Wilberforces erupted from the hole in a whistle of air. The earth seemed to spit them out. Their speed was so great, the force of the wind from the tunnel so powerful, they shot high into the air and tumbled down the side of the mountain. But it took them only a moment to grip. They turned and charged back with the speed of wild boars.
Mr Jones had struggled to his feet. He tried to block them with raised hands that gave a ghostly flicker, but the leading Wilberforce brushed him aside without the slightest movement from its course and sent him tumbling head over heels down the slope. The two smaller ones were a dozen body lengths behind. Rachel faced them. She tried to make a beam of light with her mind but her strength too was gone and the creatures rushed by, one on either side of her, with unslackened speed. She flung out her hands and felt them hurled back as though by a jolt of electricity.