by J Ryan
‘What…? Go away!’
‘I think I’ve found something – come ON!’ I drag her to her feet. As we approach, the Something looks like a small pool of shadow in the rock face.
‘It’s just a hole.’
‘No, look. It’s more than a hole. It’s going into the rocks.’
‘Could be only a few yards.’
‘Yes – or it could be our get-out, Becks. What’ve we got to lose?’ I squeeze myself inside, head and shoulders, then the rest of me, and shine the torch ahead. ‘It’s going upwards!’
‘I’m here, don’t kick my face!’
We’re like worms, wriggling slowly forwards inside the hole. It feels horrible because we could get jammed in it and not be able to go on or go back. I didn’t mind the tunnel so much because at least we could move around. But here in this narrow chimney, I can hear my heart banging in my ears. The torch beam waves around in total blackness. Harsh rock scrapes the skin off my hands as I drag myself upwards. ‘You still there, Becks?’
‘If you could just kick less stuff in my eyes… ?’
‘Do you think some of those poor slaves tried to escape this way?’
‘If I’d been them, I’d have tried it.’
The rock is crushing my ribs now, like the boulder was. I’m starting to panic in this choking darkness. My chest is closing in on me. My bare feet scrabble at the rocks as I try to keep shining the torch. ‘You OK, Becks?’
I’ve never heard her sound so tired. ‘I’m thinking chocolate – it helps. Think chocolate, Joe.’
I’m not sure if I can squeeze through this next bit. It’s so tight, I’m terrified of getting stuck. Not sure if I could go backwards, either. I think chocolate, and move another six inches upwards.
‘You OK, Joe?’
‘Chocolate’s good.’ My arms and legs are so heavy. It’s all I can do to keep shoving myself through this gullet that’s trying to squeeze me to death. The climb’s getting steeper now, and the rocks are slippery. At least that makes it a bit easier to force my way through them.
Suddenly, it’s really steep. My foot slips. ‘HELL!’ I reach out my hand to clutch at something, anything, and the torch goes rattling away from me, flashing its light. ‘Get it, Becks!’
‘Damn… !’
Everything is black.
‘Can you feel around for it? It could be wedged somewhere.’
‘I can’t see any light. It’s gone, Joe.’
‘We picked a great time to reduce our carbon footprint!’
She says thoughtfully, ‘I s’pose we could die in here?’
‘Nah, there’s got to be a better place. C’mon.’ I feel around with my hands to try and find a rock to grab.
Her voice is very small below me. ‘D’you really think we’ll get out, Joe?’
‘I don’t know. But what’s the point in not trying when we might just make it? I mean, we might find out after we’re dead that we could’ve made it after all?’
‘Hmm.’ Her voice sounds brighter. ‘It must be amazing, or really annoying, what hindsight you have when you’re dead. Or is it foresight… ?’
We don’t talk after that. We haven’t got the energy. It’s like the weight of the entire earth is pressing down on us, wanting us to stop right there. But we don’t stop.
We’ve been wriggling upwards for maybe another hour, when I get a feeling that it’s not just solid darkness I’m staring at. I don’t say anything to Becks, not yet. It would be too cruel if it’s just me seeing things. Like I was hearing things with those poor little slave voices. But I keep glancing up, and each time, it’s still there. I can’t tell if it’s right in front of my face, or high up in the hole. Or beyond the hole? I want to reach out a hand to try and touch it. This tiny piece of light, so small that I daren’t let myself believe what it just might be.
A sudden clatter of rocks below me. ‘JOE… !’
I slither back down to her. ‘Grab my hand!’
‘Where are you?’ More rocks bounce away down the chimney. I slide further down, feeling wildly around for her. Find her hand, grab it hard and brace myself against the slippery walls. I can hear her feet scrabbling around, trying to get a grip.
‘Hang ON, Becks!’
‘God I HATE this place!’
I glance up. It’s still there. And it’s twinkling. ‘Becks! LOOK UP!’
‘What?… Ooh…’ Comes out like a sigh. Her feet stop scrabbling. She’s found a foothold. Her panicky breathing is slowing. ‘Is it… ?’
‘I’m sure it’s a star.’
‘No, idiot! I mean is it planet Venus or a real star?’
‘Neither! It’s just the disco they run in this hole every night for lost souls like you and me! Now COME ON UP!’
The air gradually starts to feel different. Smells fresher, not like this ancient dust we’ve been breathing. Then, I think I can hear the low hum of traffic, a long way off. That tiny piece of twinkling light is turning into one big star in the sky. It’s shining steadily, pulling us upwards out of the dark.
Suddenly, I can see millions of street lights in the distance. My hands are waving around in nothing at all. ‘This is our stop, Becks.’
She clambers up beside me. Gazes out over the far reaches of the sparkling city of Bristol, then back up at the sky. Murmurs contentedly, ‘Definitely… planet Venus… the morn…’ She flops down.
I can’t keep my eyes open any longer. We must have fallen asleep before our heads touched the stone of that ledge.
Chapter 13
Light
‘Joe… Joe!’
I reach out to stop Becks falling into the dark.
‘Don’t move, Joe, or we’ll be flying with the seagulls!’
I open my eyes. Planet Venus’s brightness is being eclipsed by a sky that’s glowing gold and blue on the horizon. A breeze strokes my outstretched hand. I open my fingers to get more of it.
‘Have you noticed where we are?’
‘The top sightseeing spot in Bristol?’
The Bristol suspension bridge is only a hundred yards to our left. As the light spreads, it shines on the slim rods that hold this old bridge high above the river Avon. A few cars are moving slowly across it. Three hundred feet below, the tide’s flooding in, nearly covering the muddy banks.
Birdsong is soaring into the sky from the woods on the other side of the gorge. The last time I heard birds singing before dawn, I was standing on that old bridge, on the run from a nightmare. Now, we’ve survived a far worse one, and I know why those birds are singing so loud. Who wouldn’t want to sing when the light comes back?
‘How are we going to get down from here?’
‘We’ll think of something…’
‘You haven’t got another pack of Revels on you by any chance?’
‘We’ll move into Thorntons for a week once we touch down.’
The ledge we’re lying on feels like it’s been here for millions of years. On our right, other cave mouths open out over the gorge. They must have seen pterodactyls swooping and squawking like the seagulls are now, as they cruise beneath us over the river. Then I take a closer look at where we are, and I can see something near me that’s not a million years old. ‘Look, Becks.’
‘It’s an empty Coke bottle, Joe. Not a rescue helicopter.’
‘No one on the planet has an aim that could chuck it down here from the top of the gorge. So other people have got up to this ledge. Or down to it.’
‘Well, could you give them a shout? I’ll be late for school.’
‘Ow!’ A small shower of stones falls on my head. Then a bigger one. There’s a slithering and scraping above us.
Becks ducks. ‘If it’s another… !’
‘Yo, dudes! I’ve come to annoy you. You can run, but you c
an’t hide!’
Sirens are wailing in the distance, as Jack waves cheerily down at us from the ledge twenty feet above our heads.
‘Jack! What the hell are you… ?’
‘Chill, big bro. They’re sending a climbing team to get us all out – how cool is that?’
‘But how did you… ?’
‘It was nothing. Just brilliant intuition and reckless heroism that I’m far too modest to tell you about.’
‘Jack, you wouldn’t have any chocolate on you… ?’
A flash goes off to our left; I look back at the suspension bridge. It’s filling up with police cars and camera crews. Another flash. ‘Smile, Becks. They’re taking your picture.’
‘Oh-my-God, my hair!’
I can see Mum, frozen on the bridge, her eyes huge in her white face. Grandad’s got his arm round her. Jack and I grin and wave to reassure them.
Mum just screams, ‘DON’T MOVE!’
Another shower of small stones hits my head, and a voice calls from above, ‘Stay exactly where you are!’
Someone else shouts, ‘Get to him, it’s going!’
CRACK! Dust rains down my neck. There’s a rumble like an express train as Jack’s ledge starts to tear itself away from the cliff face. It leans down towards me and Becks, like the ceiling’s falling in. We scramble wildly backwards towards the hole. There’s another massive CRACK, and this gigantic piece of rock tumbles slowly past us, blocking out the light, then crashes on down the cliff face.
Jack’s legs are just above us, waving around in thin air above the river. ‘Hey, Spiderman returns! Awesome!’ He’s roped on with a harness, a climber beside him reeling off instructions. We watch, as Jack braces his legs against the rock, and gets pulled quickly upwards. ‘See you at the top, dudes!’ In seconds, his feet are out of sight.
More flashes from the suspension bridge. A reporter sounds like he’s doing a live broadcast. ‘The boy’s around fifty feet from the top now. It’s incredible. He’s laughing and chatting to his rescuer as though he’s actually enjoying this!’
‘Your go, Becks.’ My mouth is feeling drier than it’s been for the whole of our underground journey.
Two legs come into view as Spiderman 2 swings down next to her. ‘Done any climbing before?’
‘Not till last night.’
‘I’m going to pass you this… put it on slowly, and clip it at the front.’
‘It’s not exactly Versace…’
‘The next big thing when they see you on TV in it, Becks.’
‘Not on my worst ever bad hair day!’
The climber grins. He’s about twenty, with a tanned, outdoor look. ‘When the rope goes taut, go with it. You’ll swing out at first, but don’t worry, I’ll steer you into the cliff face. Lift your feet like you’re going to stand on it, then push out to let the team pull you up.’
‘No chance of a lift in a helicopter then?’
‘Trust me – this is way safer than a helicopter rescue!’
Her green eyes look at me quickly.
‘Think chocolate, Becks!’
She gives a small squeal as the rope pulls her up and off the ledge. I watch her, my stomach tightening, as she swings slowly around over that yawning drop, the river like a silver ribbon, so far below. Her voice is squeaky as she yells, ‘Remind me never to do a parachute jump for charity!’ Then Spiderman 2 grabs the rope.
On the bridge, Anchorman is in full flow. ‘The girl’s got her feet on the cliff face now, her expert climber coaching her every inch of the way. She’s getting the knack, long red hair billowing behind her in the breeze. And it’s a breeze that seems to be getting stronger now. We can feel it up here alright! Over to our weather studio. Rachel! Are the conditions about to take a turn for the worse?’
I wish I could switch him off. I wish I could switch everything off. I hate heights, even more than Becks does. And I haven’t got her guts. I can do lying here and admiring the view. But as for moving one concrete leg to get off this ledge…
Stones fly past as feet bounce down the cliff face towards me. Then, a face I’ve seen before is right in front of mine. Robocop Dave grins cheerfully. ‘Not you again! Haven’t you got a home?’
‘I didn’t know you do climbing in the police.’
‘I rock climb for fun. But when I heard who was hanging off the cliff I thought I’d drop by and say hello.’ He passes me the harness, I clip it on, and he waves towards the cliff top. ‘Go!’
The rope goes taut and drags me off the ledge. I’m swung out over the river, my legs flailing around in nothingness. Then I feel his hand on the rope, guiding me onto the cliff face. ‘Just relax – the guys up there won’t drop you, mate.’
I plant my feet, muscles protesting, brace my legs like I saw Jack and Becks do, and push. A strong tug whisks me upwards before my feet hit the rock face again. Once more, I force my legs to bounce me outwards over the river, and I don’t look down this time. Another powerful tug carries me on up the cliff.
‘Nice one, Joe. Not that far now.’
Anchorman could have a coronary if he doesn’t calm down. ‘The last climb out of certain death! Despite the wind that our weather studio is telling us will increase to four knots soon – what’s that in miles per hour, Rachel?… Anyway, it’s going magnificently well! And thankfully, no sign yet of the gales that could tear these brave young men off the cliff face and into infinity. Now they’re only around twenty feet from the top of the Downs. So near, and yet SO far! The young man is talking with his climber, and our reporters tell me that he’s the brother of the daredevil who was chatting so casually with his rescuer only ten LONG minutes ago. WHAT a scene, only the morning after the explosions that tore the city centre apart!’
As we get to the edge of the cliff, hands shoot out from all directions, grab me and pull me onto the grass. Dave grasps my hand. ‘Well done, mate. The boss’ll be over shortly.’
‘Thanks, Dave.’
There’s an eruption of applause from the crowd on the bridge. People are cheering and waving, and a dude throws his woolly hat in the air. The wind gusts it straight into the river. Now the cameras are filming this as well, and Anchorman’s telling everyone all about it.
It’s a weird kind of picnic on top of the Downs. Jack’s glugging a flask of tea – or something. He passes it to me. ‘This stuff’s amazing – try it!’ I take a mouthful. It’s hot, and sweet… and it’s tea.
Becks is taking huge bites from a bar of Dairy Milk, as though it’s going to disappear into thin air any second. She passes me another one, mumbling, ‘First aid is chocolate!’
Mum and Grandad are hugging everyone, not just Becks and Jack and me. They hug the climbers, the ambulance crew, even DI Wellington. He looks like he’s used to this sort of thing.
I’m about to say to Mum, ‘Sorry…’, for the four hundredth time, when DIW comes over to me. He shakes my hand, and claps me on the shoulders. ‘You had us a bit worried there, Joe, when we couldn’t find you in those caves.’
‘How did Jack find us?’
His radio blares, and he speaks into it brusquely, ‘Just the usual press statement. The kids are safe and well. Any other questions, no comment!’
He turns back to me, his voice quieter, bushy eyebrows frowning, but not like he’s angry. ‘He’s got extraordinary recall, your little brother. A quick mind, too. Up at the Blackboy Hill tunnel entrance, he remembered a dotted line on the map of the caves we’d been using. Guessed that it could be the hole you two climbed up through, and worked out that it had to come out near the suspension bridge. Went up there, saw you two sound asleep on that god-damn ledge, and called us.’
‘Music memory.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Jack is an amazing musician as well as a really annoying little brother.’
�
��Inspector!’ Becks comes over to us, wiping chocolate from her mouth, and holds out the memory stick. ‘It’s got a bit wet and dusty.’
He takes it slowly, staring at it. ‘What’s all this, then?’
‘Most of the files from the computer in Monsieur’s apartment, three floors below the office block.’
DIW’s eyebrows are joined up now. ‘I can see the pair of you have got quite a story to tell me.’
I add, ‘You might find something you could use against Big Head… I mean, Bertolini…’
‘And against the mysterious Monsieur?’
Becks and I exchange glances.
‘We don’t think the drugs were Monsieur’s doing, Inspector.’
‘What makes you so sure, Joe?’
‘He told us, down in his cave room, just before the explosions started… Said he didn’t give the orders, hadn’t done for years.’
‘What else did he say?’
‘He said he owed me his life. As though, if I hadn’t dodged Big Head’s bullets, and you guys hadn’t been on the case, there would have been one more, for him.’
‘And?’
‘Then he said we had to go.’
There’s a slight smile on DIW’s face that I don’t much like. ‘Your Monsieur, whatever his real name might be – and we have some ideas on that – is highly intelligent. I wouldn’t have expected anything less from him.’
I’m starting to feel angry now, but I know I mustn’t let it show. ‘I really don’t think he was lying, Inspector.’
‘Maybe, maybe not. Now,’ He starts to lead us towards one of the squad cars, ‘it’ll take at most ten minutes at the station before…’
Becks cuts in. ‘He spoke in French!’
DIW stops dead. ‘What?’
We’re almost at the car, and now I can see the tall plume of black smoke coiling up into the sky from the docks.
‘His accent was perfect, wasn’t it, Joe?’
‘I’m sure he’s French, Inspector. I just couldn’t believe it before, because his English was so good.’
DIW looks thunderous as he waves us into the car, and gets into the front passenger seat. Becks whispers, ‘He doesn’t want Monsieur to be French, does he?’