“What do these machines do?”
He shrugged his shoulders and walked towards her. “They do something, I suppose. Ventilation or water pressure or something like that. All I know is we need to get through them to get to Alcazar.”
“Wouldn’t it have been easier to go through the streets?”
Roaring, Jacob pulled himself up into the tunnel. The wooden planks crashed down behind him. His body filled up the narrow space and blocked out most of the light. “Easier, yes,” he said and looked up. “More violent.”
“Yes,” said Max. “We couldn’t just walk down the street with Jacob here. Even in the early hours, someone would notice him, and that would be…very bad.”
“For them!” said Jacob and smashed his fists together.
“Let’s keep moving. We’re nearly through the pipes now. Things will get easier once we get into the buildings above.”
Nat wrapped her arms around her body. “Good. It’s like a freezer down here.”
“Jenkins?” Max called down the tunnel. A sharp bark replied from the darkness. “Follow that dog,” he said and started forwards. The dank and mouldy tunnels of the sewers gave way to more orderly, yet no less filthy, surroundings. The ground was dry and tiled, and the air, more breathable than the fetid gases they’d endured, contained the tang of oil. Bright bulbs swayed in time with the throb of the machines ahead. They hung on thick cables along the centre of the ceiling.
Nat placed her hand on the cold, painted wall. The pulsing was still there, stronger than ever. She was able to hear the machines now, a steady thump with splashing sounds, like a washing machine filling before a cycle. She had no idea what the machines were or what purpose they served, but one thing had become apparent since entering the long corridors. The area was maintained better than the run of tunnels and pipes, and there was evidence of recent activity. In the room they ducked into—with Jacob staying quiet and silent, hunched a few feet away and taking little interest in her—a work bench stood in the corner under a heavy set lamp. Its neck was curled over to focus the lamp’s beam on the work at hand. A few tools lay scattered on the surface of the bench, as well as a coffee cup with a small, brown puddle inside. Nat had lifted the mug and saw that the dreg of coffee, although stone cold, appeared clear of mould. It had been placed there recently, certainly within the last day or two. Charts and maps covered the walls showing the layout of the sewers. It looked like a map of the London Underground with lines of different colours shooting off in every direction.
Nat crouched against the wall at the far end of the room, away from the doorway Max had gone through minutes before. Jenkins, who looked bored with the proceedings, lay on the floor beside her, his head resting on his paws.
Come on, she thought, get us moving, Max. If these machines of yours can dry us, I don’t think I can wait much longer.
As if to answer her, another wave of chills danced across her skin. The sodden denim of her jeans had rubbed against her inner thighs as she’d walked and the skin burned in protest.
Do I want him to hurry up? she suddenly thought. Shouldn’t I pray that he’s discovered and people come and rescue me? Maybe coffee cup guy can come in, overpower Jacob and whisk me away to the surface.
She slumped back and sat down.
What the hell you want, girl? You may be cold and miserable, but admit it, you be lovin’ dis!
Nat smiled. The voice in her head had adopted the brash tones of Monique, the ebony empress from The Fourth Dimension.
“You smile,” said Jacob. “Why?”
Nat glanced and noticed him staring at her. She licked her lips.
“Just because of all this.” She shivered and another wave of goose bumps stood to attention across her skin. “It’s like all the excitement that was missing in my life has been crammed into one day. All it took was to go wandering in the bad part of the city and get kidnapped.”
“You nearly dinner. You lucky.”
“Yeah,” said Nat, the smile faltering on her face. “It was lucky that Max showed up when he did. Were you really going to…you know…”
Now Jacob smiled in a twisted sneer. “Better than rat.”
In front of her, Jenkins stretched, his neck arching, before he returned to lounging on the floor.
Nat almost cried out in relief as Max ducked through the doorway and stopped in the middle of the room. Jenkins immediately jumped up and trotted over to him.
“Coast is clear. Not even one of the workers around. Lucky, huh?”
Jacob mumbled and climbed to his feet. Again, his head hung just below the ceiling.
“Is it safe to go through?” asked Nat, also standing up. “Those machines, whatever they are, sound loud.”
“And they are, but you’ll get used to them. At least it’s warm and dry out there. Come on.”
He stood aside to let Jacob move past him and squeeze through the doorway.
“Heel,” he said to Jenkins and clicked his tongue. The dog wagged its stubby tail and looked up eagerly. “You too, Nat. If we want to be back before sun up, its best we keep moving.”
She started forwards. “Why are you concerned about dawn? We’re underground.”
“We’ll be going up top soon, and with my brother, its best to keep in the shadows. Plus, there’s more chance of workers being down here in the day. At least we can slip back through here easily if we’re quick. After you.”
Nat took one last look at the lone coffee cup on the workbench and stepped through the doorway into a plain corridor. A thin pipe, running across the ceiling, leaked at its centre and a puddle had gathered underneath. Jacob was nowhere to be seen, but Nat noticed massive wet footprints leading down the corridor.
“Just keep going,” said Max. He stood right behind her but raised his voice over the throb of the machines. “Almost there.”
The bulbs also swayed in here, and the floor appeared to tilt from side to side. To Nat, it looked like a corridor from some kind of ship. At the end, an open doorway led to the right, and as Nat turned into it, she clamped her hands over her ears.
The area widened out into a room the size of a school gymnasium. Heavyset machines, which reached up to the ceiling, were arranged in several rows to form an ordered grid of pounding, hissing metal. Some closer to her appeared as solid metal blocks, speckled with rust. Green and red lights blinked from panels on the side. Only the rhythmic vibrations from within gave any indication they were in use. Other machines, located closer to the centre, had moving parts that could be seen. Pistons pumped in and out, long, thick metal pipes reached into the ceiling and pulled out in a constant cycle, driven by enormous pivots. The air contained a stronger scent of dark oil. The floor rumbled.
Something brushed against Nat’s leg. She leapt back and looked down, afraid another rat had fancied its chances and taken a chunk out of her leg.
Jenkins dashed between her legs towards the other end of the room, his stick-thin legs kicking out a frantic pace. It appeared he didn’t like the noise either.
She turned to Max, who was trying to say something to her, his lips animated in the depths of his beard. Nat shook her head. Max seemed to think for a second and waved his hands in front of his face.
I don’t understand, Nat mouthed, not bothering to force the words out. The din of the machines would destroy them the moment they left her throat.
Max pinched his ragged coat with both hands and shook it like a man who has just stepped in from a rain storm.
Like a man trying to dry off, thought Nat.
For the first time she noticed how warm it was in the room of machines. A slight, hot breeze brushed against her face. It barely had the strength of a hair dryer but the chill had evaporated from her skin.
She looked back to Max and nodded. He smiled and nodded too. He held his hand out in the direction Jenkins had scurried off in. Nat understood and began to walk.
She wondered what Mr. Coffee Mug actually did down here.
19.
; In the lair, the water had returned to a calm and foamy surface after the sudden splash at the centre. The boys stood in a semicircle, covering half of the room. On the other side, lighter items of furniture floated and bobbed against each other.
“What was that?” asked Richie.
Johan ignored him. He scanned the dark water, trying to see what had caused such a high splash.
If I can just see where it’s coming from, we can do something about it. I don’t want us to get caught in it again.
Kev wailed.
“What?” asked Spence and took a step towards him. He held his arms out to the side for balance and stumbled. “Kev, what’s wrong?”
Kev’s eyes frantically moved left and right in his sockets, scanning the water. His skin had flushed, and his rapid breathing sounded like a dog panting. “Something…”
“What?”
“There’s something in the water! I…I felt it against my leg!”
Spence looked down and threw his bricks into the water.
“Chill out, fellas,” said Richie.
Johan glanced at Simon. He was still staring at the cell, like he hadn’t noticed the large splash or panic. Kev looked on the edge of a heart attack.
“It was probably just a bit of wood or something,” Johan said, hoping to calm the boys. “Look at how everything’s floating around.”
He peered around Kev’s legs. Nothing floated near him. The water looked clear.
“Something’s going on,” said Kev who took a wobbling step back. “I’m getting the fuck out of here.”
“The hell you are. You’re staying put like the rest of us,” said Johan.
Things had settled and the water lay undisturbed.
“This was probably just a time controlled system or something. These are the sewers. What the fuck do we know about what goes on down here?”
“That’s why they’ve gone.” They looked to Simon. “These bastards knew the room was going to flood, so they left,” he said, eyes still fixed on the cell. “We have to go after them.”
“Amen to that,” said Johan. “I didn’t come all this way to get covered in shit and be denied now.”
Simon frowned.
“We have to find Nat,” Johan quickly added. “Before anything else happens.”
About to head for the hole in the wall, Johan stopped and pointed at the water. A rat, most likely the one from the cell bed, paddled across the room.
“There’s what touched your leg,” he said to Kev. “Just a rat. Maybe it was attracted by the smell.”
Something darted up to the surface of the water and snatched the rodent underneath. The surface bobbed for a second.
Johan blinked.
“Did I just see that?” asked Spence. “Seriously, guys. Did I just fucking see that?”
All four stood rigid and stared at the water.
“Everybody get out,” said Johan. “Nice and slow. No sudden movements.”
He lifted a foot from the floor and shuffled backwards. Kev and Spence lay between him and the exit. Simon stood on the other side, and Richie remained on the opposite side of the room.
“Spence, you’re closest. Go through the hole. Gently.”
The chamber seemed to have switched from cold to hot. Johan’s armpits prickled underneath his t-shirt and the first trickles of sweat slid down his sides. He swallowed, and his mouth instantly filled with saliva a second later, glands pulsating at the back of his mouth.
Jesus Christ, his mind screamed. Oh Jesus Christ, where have we come?
A small piece of wood, floating in the middle of the room like a canoe, suddenly flipped over and sank.
The movement ignited the panic, which had seeped from each of the boys and built up in the chamber like an electrical charge. They each dove for the hole.
“Wait!”
Johan, kicking his way through the water and about to push Kev aside, glanced over his shoulder. He expected to find Simon wrestling with some beast that had emerged from the water. Instead, he perched precariously on a rotting armchair, which had stayed rooted to the floor.
“Get out of the water!” he screamed. “You can’t all get out in time. I can see it! It’s in the water!”
Before his words had finished their echo, Richie screamed and fell forwards. He struck the water in a loud splash and vanished beneath the murky surface.
Johan watched in horrified awe.
Richie was dragged along just under the surface.
For some stupid reason, Johan thought of the alligator that Kev had mentioned.
“Richie!” Spence seemed to think about diving in after his friend but then quickly reconsidered. He thrashed backwards in the water and pressed against the wall.
Kev had reached the hole but floundered, unable to pull his leg high enough to get through.
Johan scanned the water for Richie, but the scum-lathered surface had closed up again.
“Richie!”
He leaned down for a closer look, ready to jump back should anything touch his leg.
A hand shot from beneath the water, inches from Johan’s face.
He staggered back, the metal bar raised over his head, poised to strike.
Richie’s face emerged, his hair plastered over his eyes. He coughed and sent a spray of water from between his lips. “Help me!” he cried, his eyes squeezed shut, his hand waving.
Johan grabbed him and pulled.
Richie rose from the water, his body dripping. He’d lost the metal bar and most of his right sleeve. His jacket had been torn from the elbow down and hung in tatters. While he lay against the wall sucking in deep breaths of the putrid air, Johan lifted his arm.
A patch of blood had soaked Richie’s shirt a few inches below the wrist and, mixing with the water, formed a river flowing down his arm. It dripped off his elbow.
“Oh Christ,” Johan whispered. “What the hell is in here?”
Richie grabbed his shoulder and gritted his teeth. “Fuck, it hurts, Johan, it hurts… My arm! It got my arm!”
“It’s not deep,” Johan replied, eyes still transfixed on the bite. “Just a flesh wound.” He turned away and headed back for the hole. He stabbed the water around him with the bar.
“But my arm! Christ, it hurts… I dropped the bar…”
Kev still hadn’t managed to get through the hole and stood leaning against it with tears running down his face. Spence beat furiously on his back, head turning between the hole and the water behind. “Move! For fuck’s sake, move!”
“Shit,” yelled Simon from the armchair. “Guys, look out! It’s coming!”
Johan looked over his shoulder and flopped back, away from the struggling pair.
A thin tentacle, narrow as a pencil, curled out of the water like an Indian rope trick.
Johan kicked out in a half swim. His scrabbling hands found the edge of a chest of drawers, and he clambered on top. He lifted his feet from the water and held them against his chest, curled up in a ball and shivering.
The blue-tinged tentacle weaved around itself in a weird ballet.
Johan watched in amazement. The creamy grey foam had closed in again and hid the rest of the creature from view. The long, twisting feeler paused for a second just above the surface.
“Guys!” Simon yelled again. He waved his arms. “Move!”
Spence continued to try and shift Kev out of the way. He lacked the strength to move such a weight and merely shoved and punched. Kev remained blocking the hole, blubbering like a six foot baby.
The tentacle whipped forwards.
Kev again attempted escape and lifted his knee high, managing to find the edge of the hole.
The tentacle wrapped itself around his ankle and snapped taught.
Kev looked down and began to scream.
“Someone help him!” Johan, breathless, heart trying to burst from his chest, glanced to the side at the voice. Simon, perched on the armchair, carried on shouting. “Help him!”
The tentacle pulled. No sudden j
erk, more a steady pressure, like a chain being wound inch by inch. Kev’s panic grew as his leg was quickly pulled behind. The big man hopped in the water, and the tentacle seized the opportunity. It tugged Kev closer.
Spence backed away.
“Hit it!” Simon cried. “With the plank!”
The rotten and pointed bit of wood remained in Kev’s hand. Its edge looked sharp enough to cut through the tentacle in one swipe.
“Cut it!” Simon yelled.
Crying, Kev dropped the wood and seized the ledge of the hole with both hands.
“No!” cried Simon.
“Help me! Help meeee!”
Spence, ignoring the pleas, used the bars of the makeshift cell as a ladder and ascended from the water.
“We have to do something,” said Richie, breathless and still standing in the water.
For a second, the line of the tentacle grew slack and hung in an arc, dangling in the water. Then its owner pulled again. It snapped tight.
Kev wailed, one of his hands lost its grip and slid free of the ledge. He clung on to the edge with the fingertips of his right hand. He screamed, his face swollen and purple.
“Help meee!”
“We can’t just leave him!” cried Richie. Still nursing his bitten arm, he started forwards through the water. Simon jumped from the armchair. Both of them waded towards Kev, who’d been pulled almost horizontal by the tentacle.
“Damn it!” Johan, gripping the metal bar so hard his knuckles burned, lowered himself from the chest of drawers. His own scream nearly escaped his throat the moment his feet slipped into the dark water. He joined the line formed by Richie and Simon and thrashed at the water with his bar.
Kev hit the water, which closed over the top of him. The tentacle vanished beneath the surface.
The boys stopped in their tracks.
“Don’t move,” said Simon. “It could be anywhere.”
“But we have to do something!” said Richie again.
Johan continued to strike and jab at the water in the vain hope he’d hit the thing. He operated purely on adrenaline, the thoughts of Nat and the people who’d taken her gone. Survival was all that mattered.
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