So Below: The Trilogy

by Matt Whyman

  “For a man who has just been reunited with his stepdaughter,” observes the Executive Deck Hand, “your stepfather seems a little distant.”

  “Judging by the way his shoulders sagged when she rounded the corner with Aleister, I reckon Otto had been hoping to string out the search until he’d seen all the sights.”

  Billy trades a glance with the girl with the red braided hair. “Your stepdaddy shouldn’t pack his bags for home just yet,” he tells her. “This ol’ tub is built to weather the very worst storm mankind could ever conjure. Aleister will need more than brute strength to breach it.”

  Scarlett looks around, from the far walls to the ceiling joists. Through her eyes, the Bridge just doesn’t feel like a safe place to hide out. All the empty rows and unattended monitors don’t help, built as it is to house an army of commanders.

  “What a day for the crew to be off duty!” she sighs. “I’m sure they could conjure up a way to get us out of this fix.”

  “Julius is the only person I really wish was here,” replies Billy. “He’d know exactly what to do.”

  A moment passes as the pair reflect on their predicament. Scarlett watches her sister on the monitor, standing in the shadow of the brute, and then kicks back her seat to stand. “OK, this is how it is,” she declares, taking charge now. “There’s no way Aleister can squeeze through the bars. As for Otto, he has trouble squeezing through doors! My sister might have landed herself in hot water, but all we can do is sit tight and hope the others return before it’s too late.”

  Billy turns his attention to a red button housed beneath a plastic cover. “If somehow he did get inside the bunker,” he suggests, mostly to assure himself, “we can always put the Bridge on lockdown. With the blast shields in place, you could witness the end of the world on the monitors and not even feel a tremor.” He meets her eyes once more. “We’re totally shipshape,” he says, sounding less than confident. “Nothing bad can happen to us here.”

  Blaize had not planned on taking such a tumble. Even so, she could connect with Yoshi’s view that such a brush with death could leave you feeling reborn. Right now, in the care of the man who saved her life, it seemed entirely reasonable to repay him with a favour. Aleister might be a little intimidating, she thinks, eyeing the brute currently testing the buckled vent with his boot heel, but it seemed he had their best interests at heart. Why else would he have acted so selflessly just now?

  “How are you feeling?” he asks, without looking round.

  “Fully charged,” she replies, “even if my head is spinning just a little.”

  “Do you recall all the things I said to you from the ground?” he enquires, crouching now to test the buckled bars.

  Blaize tries to think back, but fails. It’s as if a switch in her mind has been set to stop that kind of recollection.

  “To be honest that moment on the rooftop feels like a dream now. I can’t be sure what happened.”

  Aleister hides a private smile. Hypnosis had never been his greatest strength, and frankly he’s surprised it worked on such a steely soul. Then again, he hadn’t wiped her mind, and turned her into some kind of zombie. That kind of thing was impossible. He had simply restricted her thoughts so she didn’t question her allegiance to him. She wouldn’t be under his spell for long, of course. Eventually, her brain would wise up to the fact that it had been duped. By that time, however, he would have what he wanted. Aleister considers how close he is now to seizing the young psychics who had flown from his Foundation. It almost draws a smile from him, only for a frown to set in when Otto taps him on the shoulder.

  “Was there a problem with my takeaway?” he asks, cutting right across the brute’s thoughts. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but you promised me some dim sum.”

  Aleister rises to his full height, and turns to face the man. With Blaize in his care now, Otto’s value to him had diminished considerably. More so since discovering that he wasn’t even their true father. Had Otto revealed this to him when he first showed up at his talent agency, along with his lack of real interest in their lives, Aleister would’ve spun right round on his boot heels and saved himself a whole heap of hassle. He sizes up the talent-booker in the straining golf shirt, and silently resists the temptation to shrink him down to size. That kind of magick had a time and a place. Above all, with Scarlett, Yoshi and Livia still at large, it was vital that he saved his psychic strength.

  “Isn’t it enough that Blaize is safe in our care? he asks instead, feeling some pity here for the girl he had saved. “Have you even hugged her yet?”

  Otto turns to Blaize. He pats her on the head, but even that appears to be a struggle. “She’s been a very naughty madam,” he says, and pauses there to catch the brute’s eye. “And I will deal with her over lunch.”

  Sizing him up one last time, Aleister decides perhaps it would be best all round if he simply made Otto vanish for a while.

  “OK, I take the hint.” Aleister digs inside the pockets of his mink coat, and hands Otto several banknotes. “And seeing that we have Blaize’s return to celebrate, go and find yourself that dim sum and then meet us back here.”

  “So now I gotta fetch my own takeaway?” He grabs the money, and waddles back down the alley muttering to himself.

  “Get enough for a party,” Aleister calls after him, still amazed at the man’s manner, but thankful to be shot of him for now. He turns to Blaize, noting the glaze in her eyes. “If everything goes to plan, my dear, we should return with plenty of mouths to feed.”

  From the Bridge, having witnessed this scene thanks to the security camera up there in the alley, Billy and Scarlett watch Otto turn into the main thoroughfare.

  “Should we track him?” asks the Executive Deck Hand.

  “We might not be able to hear what they’re saying,” observes Scarlett, “but I can tell by the look on his face that there’s only one thing on his mind: food!”

  Billy skips back to the camera poised over the dead end of the alley. “I know it’s bad timing,” he admits, “but I could use a bite as well.”

  “Billy!”

  “It’s what happens when I’m nervous. I get scared, and reach for the fridge.”

  Scarlett sighs. “Look me in the eye,” she says.

  “Don’t put me under a spell, will you? One glance at Blaize convinces me she’s in some kind of trance.”

  “I am not going to do anything like that. I simply want to assure you that we’re in charge of this situation. There’s no need to panic or leave your seat. Nothing can happen to us here. You said so yourself.”

  Billy nods, slowly at first, but he seems satisfied. Then he slides his attention from the girl to the screen, and pales visibly.

  “Scarlett?”

  “Yes?”

  The Executive Deck Hand flips open the housing over the red button.

  “I think we should go to lockdown.”

  Blaize is standing shoulder high between the bars now. She’s looking up through the weeds at Aleister. He studies her gaze closely, aware that she won’t be under his spell for much longer.

  “So,” she says instructively, “you basically place your weight on the trap and it swings open. The hinge is sprung, which means as soon as you’re through it flips back into place.”

  “A false-bottomed floor?” The brute closes his eyes for a beat, as if this information opens up a whole new level of understanding. “That’s the oldest trick in the book. Yoshi first gave me the slip by taking this escape route, and I failed to spot it!” He sighs to himself, and shrugs his broad shoulders. “I suppose it goes to show that the oldest ones are also the best.”

  Blaize considers the buckled bars she’s standing between. “Too bad you can’t fit through,” she tells him. “I could’ve given you a guided tour of the bunker.”

  The brute takes another moment to digest this. “You really are a great help to me. I do hope this will continue once everyone is back at the Foundation.”

  Blaize blinks brightly
as she digests his suggestion, but tips her head as if to check she had heard him correctly. Aleister notes that her focus is beginning to tighten up, and figures he doesn’t have much time left. Hypnosis was simply another illusion, after all. Crouching before her now, the brute says: “Why don’t you drop through the trapdoor, and I’ll see you down there.”

  “But you’ll never fit through the bars.”

  “Have you never seen a magician appear to pass through solid objects?” he asks, and is delighted when she challenges him to prove it with a grin of defiance and then disappears from his sight.

  Billy No-Beard forgets to blink for a beat. He stares at the dead alley, as seen from the overhead camera, and wonders if his eyes have just deceived him.

  “Shall we rewind that?” he asks Scarlett, who had also witnessed the brute twist into his long mink coat and appear to melt between the bars. “I certainly would like to know how that was done.”

  “I don’t think now is the time to learn the secret behind his tricks,” she cautions.

  At the same time, a buzzer sounds and a light flashes red above the big screen. Billy punches a button, and summons a view of the pair who have just requested entry to the bunker through the hatch.

  “Do we let them in?” he asks.

  “I don’t think we have a choice.” Scarlett rises to her feet. Her eyes are locked on the screen, which shows Aleister remove the snake from his shoulders and place it around her sister’s neck. Blaize doesn’t flinch when the serpent’s diamond head rises level to her own. Looking at them now, she might as well be the brute’s stage assistant. “I can’t believe he’d risk harming her,” breathes Scarlett, shocked at what she’s witnessing here. It takes a moment for her to gather her wits. Once that happens she turns away from the monitors with a purpose. “I’m going to open the entrance hatch,” Scarlett tells Billy. “As soon as I’m out of the Bridge you can bring down the blast doors if you like, but I have to face this head on. Nobody messes with my sister and gets away with it!”

  Billy watches her rounding for the gangway, only to beat her to it on his rollerblades.

  “The flywheel can be tough for one person to turn sometimes,” he says, sweeping ahead to lead the way. “Besides, you can’t leave me on my own.”

  “Why not?” she asks, following the boy at a trot.

  Up ahead, the hatch looms into view. Something hammers at it from the other side just then, so forcefully it appears to quiver on its hinges.

  “Because I’m really scared,” he admits, without looking around.

  27

  IN THE CLOUDS

  Yoshi peers into the abyss. Below his feet, the Walbrook rushes over the edge and cascades into the gloom. The piping is a step down. It juts out through the water, but looks so fragile it’s a wonder that it hasn’t been swept away.

  “OK,” he says, taking one last look at the bed of shattered brickwork way below. “Let’s do it.”

  Julius, Mikhail and Livia stand at the water’s edge, but step back now at his bidding to give him the space he needs. He takes a deep breath, chin held high, and then casts his attention to the seam of spikes that run from here to the side of the divide. Only once does he glance at the pipe, as he lowers one bare foot upon it, and then takes his first step. At the same time, he reaches for the closest spike, grasps it with a gasp, and hand over hand begins the slow guided walk across the chasm.

  “Be careful!” calls Mikhail, only to receive a sharp jab in the ribs from Livia.

  “Of course he’s going to be careful,” she snaps. “What were you expecting from him? A song and dance routine?”

  Dimly, Yoshi hears this exchange, but he doesn’t register what is said. For in the darkness on the other side, the pigs have clearly picked up on his presence. They squeal and snort, but Yoshi refuses to let anything distract him. Instead, he listens to the orchestral strains that seep into this underground chamber. It soothes his nerves. Keeps him nice and calm. Hand over hand. Step by step.

  Keep going, he tells himself, and locks his gaze upon the remains of the tunnel ahead. Don’t. Look. Down!

  And then a creaking sound invades his sense of calm. He opens his eyes, hears the same sound again. Only this time it seems like the spike in his hand is pulling from his grip.

  “Yoshi!” cries Julius. “Be quick! The pipe is bending under your weight!”

  He hears the old man loud and clear now. Even so, there is nothing he can do as the pipe sags by another degree. This time, and to his great horror, it denies him the chance of reaching the spikes again. All of which leaves him balanced over the chasm like a high wire artist with a death wish.

  Look ahead. Don’t panic. Eyes up and keep moving.

  This is not the first time, the boy reminds himself, that he’s crossed a high drop in such a way. Jump runners often encountered girders on building sites. Indeed, Yoshi himself had only recently walked the length of one suspended from a dockside crane overlooking the Thames. With his head in the clouds, so it seemed, he had strolled all the way to the very end. From there, the boy swallow-dived on a wing and a prayer into the rigging of a luxury yacht in port. The experience had taught him to survive by keeping his eyes as level as his head, and that memory guides him now.

  “You’re nearly there, my boy. Don’t look down!”

  Yoshi detects a rising euphoria in the old man’s voice, and indeed the tunnel mouth is just feet away. He even picks up his pace, only to drop to a crouch and grab the pipe as it sheers clean in two just ahead of him and groans into a slope.

  “Yoshi!”

  Livia steps forward with her heart in her mouth. The pipe simply bows away, heading for the horizontal. She sees Yoshi’s twin lights skate down the wall of the chasm, and then pick out a narrow ledge with a passage behind it. Before she can even call out he has sprung for it with all his might. One moment he’s sinking fast. The next he’s clinging to the ledge by his fingertips.

  “You can do it!” calls the old man, aware that Mikhail is simply watching with his hand covering his mouth. “Pull yourself up. It’s the only way.”

  Like a swimmer at the end of a marathon race, the boy hauls himself up and locks his elbows, before levering himself onto the ledge. There, he rolls onto his back, panting hard. Finally, he becomes aware of several torch beams playing across the floor beside him. He glances upwards, sighting the source with a sense of relief and despair. For Livia, Julius and Mikhail are standing right beside the waterfall where he had left them. What’s different is that they’re now much higher up than he is. It makes him realise how far the pipe had bowed when it failed on him, and how lucky he is to be alive.

  “You forgot your return ticket,” Livia calls down icily. “Now how are we going to get you back?”

  Yoshi claws himself into a sitting position, and takes stock of his surroundings. He may have missed the tunnel mouth by some way, but down here behind him is a narrow, uneven passage in the clay that goes back some way. It also seems to wind upwards, because his beams pick out a series of rough-hewn steps. He turns to face up to the others, and tries to sound upbeat.

  “I’ve come this far,” he calls to them. “It would be a shame to back out now. I’m going to follow these steps and hope it takes me back on track.”

  He expects someone to protest, but not to shush him. Yoshi draws breath to ask why, but then he hears the cause of their concern. It’s a scrabbling sound from his side of the chasm, coming out of the tunnel mouth above. Immediately, the party opposite take refuge behind rocks.

  Yoshi tips his head to hear better, convinced now that he can hear wheezy, laboured breathing. And then a voice unlike any other calls out from up there. One that doesn’t sound quite human. The words are recognisable, but come out in a squeal.

  “I hears a piggy,” the voice can be heard to exhale gleefully, followed by the sound of sniffing. “I smells a piggy!” Yoshi hasn’t dared to blink as this goes on, but can’t help a quiet gasp when the sound of a knife edge scraping across a s
harpener meets his ears. “If a piggy has escaped from her pen, she’ll be sorry. I’m not leaving ’til I’ve found my piggy!”

  Trying hard not to tremble, Yoshi retreats to the passage. Once inside, he flicks on his torchlight. He hears this unseen presence call out across the chasm one more time. All that noise he had made in crossing was bound to attract attention, he curses to himself, and begins the slow ascent. The passage winds upwards, much like steps inside a church tower. Yoshi takes his time. Not least because it’s hot and airless down here, with a heavy feral stink. His twin beams pick out blades of straw, mushroom clusters and animal droppings. At the same time, every step he takes appears to bring him closer to the awful muttering he’d heard from the ledge.

  “Where are you piggies? Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

  Hugging the inside wall of this steep and winding passage, Yoshi continues to climb. At one point he detects movement up ahead, and freezes on the spot. A gentle scrabbling sound can be heard, as if something is rooting around in the dirt. Cautiously, he peers around the corner, and smiles on discovering the cause. It’s a little pig, with tusks just like the spectral porkers they had encountered along the way. Judging by the wheezing voice still calling out, it’s probably here to hide.

  “Coming through,” whispers Yoshi, easing this unusual breed to one side. The pig is in no hurry to follow, and simply grunts as the boy pushes his way by. At the final step, he tightens his twin beams to discreet pinholes, and peeps around the corner.

  What Yoshi sees almost sends him scurrying back to the ledge. For the passage opens across the old tunnel. It’s the same dimensions as the one they had walked to get this far, but hasn’t seen water for an age. Before the crevice cleaved open and swallowed a tunnel section, it would’ve flowed freely through here. The boy can even make out a tidemark scoring the brickwork. The bed itself is quite dry, but he thinks twice before stepping out upon it. That something, or someone, is still poking about way back at the edge of the abyss is one reason why he’s too afraid to move. But it’s what Yoshi will have to tread upon that makes his blood run cold.