“Bad dream,” she said, giving her shoulders a shake as if to shrug off the dream.
“Tell me about it,” he asked rhetorically, remembering the years of nightmares that had haunted his sleep. “I can’t help feeling like we need to get moving.”
She pushed herself upright. “Yeah, you’re right.”
Sky slept curled up on her side, her head on her bag. Billy was sleeping on the other side of them in almost exactly the same position. The two were like bookends on a shelf.
Gently, Tom and Samantha shook the other two awake. They sat up, dark marks beneath their bloodshot eyes, appearing more exhausted than before they’d stopped, but that would pass.
“So let’s move,” Sky said with a stretch.
With heads and bodies still thick with sleep, they gathered their stuff. Tom wanted to pick up the empty cans and take them with him. Littering—even down here where no one would ever come across their mess—seemed wrong. He reached down and picked one up, but Sky gave him a little frown and shook her head.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “We need to carry less weight, not more.”
Tom let the can fall from his fingers and it clattered to the stone floor. He told himself he would pick them up on the way out, though deep down he knew the chances of that ever happening were slim.
The tunnel continued to slope downwards.
The group remained fragmented. Sky walked ahead, with Billy following close behind. Tom and Samantha walked side by side, their hands not quite touching. A sullen Otto brought up the rear. He trudged along, his head hung and his feet dragging as though his head and limbs had grown too heavy for the rest of his body. Bugs the rat was still nowhere to be seen.
The ground remained wet beneath foot—the lack of sunlight or warmth meant the water hadn’t dried up. The tunnel was still freezing cold and they were all grateful for the extra sweaters and jackets they carried in their bags.
After about an hour, Sky pulled to a stop.
Something wasn’t right.
A small stretch of water lay ahead. The level started shallow, but, because of the slope of the tunnel, grew deeper and deeper until the water reached the tunnel roof.
“Oh, crap,” said Sky. “This shouldn’t be here.”
They lined up at the water’s edge, their torchlight glinting off the black surface.
“The water from the reservoir?” Tom asked.
Sky nodded. “That’s right.”
“Why has the water pooled here?” asked Samantha.
“The tunnel ends a bit farther on,” said Sky. “There’s a drop hole right before the rock closes in that take us to the next level—to the start of the Underlife. I don’t know why the water didn’t drain through the drop hole.”
“Something must be blocking it,” Tom said, his stomach sinking. Each time they were making progress, something seemed to be put in their way. It was as though the tunnels themselves were trying to prevent them from completing their journey. He didn’t want to think too hard about what might be blocking the hole and he hoped none of the others would want to discuss it either. He had a feeling none of them would like the answer.
“We’re going to need to swim,” said Sky, pulling him from his thoughts.
“What?” Tom said, making sure he’d heard right.
“It’s the only way. There are other entrances to the Underlife, but we simply don’t have the time to go back. Someone needs to swim down to the drop hole and shift whatever is blocking it.”
“But what if we find a huge boulder or something else unmovable? What do we do then?” He couldn’t hide the panic in his voice. The time he’d sensed dripping by had suddenly turned into a flood.
“We’ll have to deal with that if it happens.”
“I’d go,” said Billy, “but I’ve only just dried out from my last dip and I’m still fucking cold. I don’t think my body could take another hit.”
Tom looked to Otto, who said nothing; he just stared at the ground. Tom turned his attention to the two women. Neither of them could be expected to do it.
“I’ll go,” he offered, reluctantly. “Whatever is blocking the hole might be heavy. I’m stronger than you two.”
The water was so dark it looked like oil. If he was going to do this, he would need to use his torch underwater to see where he was going. Maybe the water wouldn’t be as deep as it looked? Maybe the tunnel got lower, rather than the water getting deeper?
Tom didn’t want to go underwater. He didn’t think he had swum underwater with his eyes open since he was a child. He hoped he would be able to see something; he hoped the water wouldn’t hurt his eyes—stupid, childish fears.
“Are you sure?” Samantha asked.
Tom shrugged. “Do I have much choice?”
“You’re better off getting out of your clothes,” she said, with an apologetic smile. “That way, if you managed to unblock the hole, you’ll at least have some dry clothes to get into afterwards.”
Billy nodded. “She’s right, mate. Take it from me—you don’t want to wander around in wet clothes. It’s cold enough down here.”
Of course they were both right. Feeling absurdly self-conscious, he pulled off his t-shirt and started to unbutton his jeans. He was only too aware of the extra pounds he had acquired over the recent months. He tried to suck in his stomach, but he couldn’t do much about the love handles hanging over the back of his shorts.
Dressed only in his underwear, he picked up the torch and stood at the edge of the water. He shivered violently due to the cold and he hadn’t even gotten in the water yet. His stomach churned with nerves.
He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to get cold and wet and he didn’t want to go into water that was so dark he couldn’t see what lay beneath the surface. But the trade-off between going in the water and looking like a total loser in front of Samantha and Sky came down on the side of the women.
Tom held the torch in one trembling hand and waded into the water. As he had expected, the water was ice-cold and his body reacted instantly. His heart rate sped up, his muscles tightened, and his balls retracted into his body with a sickening ache. And he was only thigh deep. If he had to submerge his head, he thought his brain might freeze.
The water rapidly became deeper and Tom knew his fear would come true. He didn’t think he was anywhere near the blockage yet and already the water had hit his chest, restricting his lungs. He struggled to breathe and had to consciously drag air into his lungs to stop himself from taking small, hyperventilating breaths. He supposed it wouldn’t matter in a moment; as soon as he went under he wouldn’t need to take another breath for at least a minute, if he could even stay under that long.
He glanced back and shined the torch so he could see the others waiting for him at the edge of the water. They all squinted in the sudden light and Samantha waved.
Tom took a deep breath and turned back. The water was now up to his shoulders and just ahead the pool hit the stone roof of the tunnel. He was going to have to swim and he was going to have to go under the water to do it.
He braced himself. Every part of him shouted, “Don’t do it! Don’t do it!” but he had to. He took another deep breath, filling his lungs best he could in spite of the cold, and plunged beneath the icy water.
The cold pressed upon his temples and pierced his brain. He felt as though his internal organs should start shutting down, but they didn’t.
Tom pushed off the floor with the soles of his feet and swam.
Water engulfed his ears. The movement of his own limbs in the otherwise still water filled his ears, hollow and echoing. Cold water forced its way up his nostrils, hurting his head. Though his mouth was clamped shut, he tasted the stale water deep in the back of his throat.
With the torch in one hand, his swimming style was awkward and ungainly, but he propelled himself forward and forced his eyes open. At first, everything was just a black blur, but then he caught the fractured beam of light from the torch and focused
in on it. Things floated in the beam, specks of dust and larger blobs he couldn’t identify.
He felt himself floating back up and fought against the buoyancy of his own body. The back of his head knocked against the stone of the roof of the tunnel and claustrophobic panic filled him. He kicked away, pushing himself deeper. Desperate thoughts ran through his mind. What if I can’t get back again before I run out of air? What if I drown?
Tom shined the torch ahead and saw the tunnel had come to an end. The exit must be somewhere below him, along with whatever was blocking it.
The cold was affecting his body; his arms and legs growing numb, his heart rate slowing. He would end up with hypothermia if he stayed down too long.
His lungs burned and he fought the urge to turn around and get the hell out of there. He needed to get this done. If he turned around now, he’d never convince himself to come back again.
Tom used the stone wall to pull himself down, shining the torch down.
With horror, he saw what blocked the hole.
Her hair floated in the water like fronds of seaweed. Both of her legs were wedged down the hole, her torso floating upward.
It was Jo.
Immediately, he baulked—panic and disgust rushing through him at the thought of being in the water with a dead body.
At least she’s face down. The ridiculous thought went through his head. Then he realised he was going to have to move her. He would need to touch her.
With air bursting in his lungs, he had no time to think.
Tom swam down and grabbed the back of her shirt. He pulled, but the body didn’t budge. She was jammed in the hole—enough at least to stop the water pouring through into whatever lay beneath. Because she was such a big woman, she had blocked the hole completely. Anyone else would have been washed straight through with the force of the water.
Tom let go of her shirt and reached down and wrapped his fingers around her thick wrist. At least his fingers were so numb he couldn’t feel the waxy cold of her skin as he pulled. For a moment, she didn’t move, but then he felt a shifting as her body lifted.
Her other arm flailed through the water in a terrible slow motion and slowly she flipped over. Her face glowed white in the torchlight, her eyes blank and staring. But she was at least partially free from the hole and Tom felt the pull of the water surrounding him as it poured through the gap.
I need to breathe. Oh, God, I need to breathe.
But he couldn’t let go of Jo and swim back or she would only fill the hole again. She was too heavy for him to swim against the flow of the water with her body. All he could do was fight the urge to take a big gulp of air that would only fill his lungs with water, and hope what water remained would quickly drain away.
The seconds dragged out like torture and he screamed in his head, fighting every urge to take the breath that would kill him. Then he realised the downward pressure of the water had decreased. Above him, a space appeared between the rock ceiling and the water. It was now only inches above his head and he let go of Jo. With desperation, he powered to the top and burst through the water.
Tom gasped for air, his face pressed into the gap between the water and rock. He took loud, harsh breaths, gulping down the air. The oxygen hit his lungs and he coughed in sharp barks. The sound echoed around the confined space.
The world went grey around him and he thought he would pass out. Then he heard Samantha’s voice calling out to him, asking him if he was okay. He heard the worry in her voice and he came to.
He tried to speak, but the air seemed to catch in his throat. He choked, and coughed again, his throat raw and his lungs burning.
“I’m okay,” he managed. “I’m okay.” He said it again to himself as he realised it was true.
Tom’s fears of Jo blocking the hole again went unfounded. Slowly, the water drained away and Tom half-swam, half-stumbled out of the water. Samantha held her jacket out for him. Too cold to try to be polite and decline the offer, he let her use it to rub him down, his whole body shaking.
“You have to keep moving,” she told him. “I know you are probably exhausted and all you want to do is curl up on the floor, but you need to get your blood flow going and your heart rate up. Jump up and down. Do star jumps or run on the spot—anything.”
His arms were pulled in tight against his chest and his whole body shook fiercely. He looked at her wearily and saw the worry on her face. She wasn’t joking. Reluctant, Tom forced himself to run on the spot and jumped up and down a few times. He was too cold to even be self-conscious.
“Can I have my clothes back now?” he asked when his heart rate started to pick up.
He stripped off his wet shorts and pulled his clothes on. Immediately, his own body’s reactions warmed him up and he started to feel better.
He turned to the others to discover they all stared past him, their attention diverted by something else.
The water had now completely drained away and they were left with the thing that had created the blockage.
“Oh, God,” said Samantha, her hand over her mouth.
“Jo?” Billy’s voice was strangely hopeful, as though he thought there might be a chance she was still alive.
Tom didn’t know what to say. For some reason he felt guilty, as though he was responsible for Jo being there.
No one moved. Once again the group was complete.
Chapter 17
A CONSTANT, STEADY beep dragged Abby from sleep.
David was coding.
She leapt to her feet, her hands at her mouth. Before she even got the chance to scream for help, doctors rushed in with a crash cart.
“Oh, no. Oh, please no.” Abby’s voice was barely a whisper. The world felt like it was falling away from her, the floor disappearing from beneath her feet, the walls rushing backwards. All of a sudden, she was caught in the middle of a nightmare she couldn’t interact with as she watched the doctors and nurses hustle around her son. She couldn’t believe this was happening, couldn’t stand for it to be true. All of the old feelings she’d experienced when they had first found out about David’s illness ran through her. Why him? Why her little boy?
“What’s happening to him?” she begged, trying to get the attention of the doctors, the nurses, anyone. But they ignored her, focusing their attention on the small, lifeless boy on the bed
One of the nurses said something Abby didn’t understand and pulled David’s nightshirt up, exposing his narrow pale chest. The doctor placed the paddles against his skin.
“Clear,” he ordered.
Everyone stepped back and electricity blasted through David’s body, lifting his fragile frame momentarily from the bed.
Abby hid her face in her hands and wept.
There was a pause, a gap in time where everyone stopped, concentrating only on the monitor, praying for the flat-line to rise in a peak, praying the continuous beep would break, but it didn’t.
“Again,” said the doctor. “And give me a shot of epi.”
He hit David again and Abby felt the jolt of electricity with every fibre of her body, her heart crying out in pain for her son.
This time, the line jumped and so did the beep. Abby cried out with both fear and relief. Her legs gave way beneath her and she sank to the floor.
She wouldn’t be able to carry on if David died. She would just stop existing. She couldn’t imagine being able to do ‘normal’ things—eat, wash, speak. She would lie in bed and wait for the day when she would join him. The pain would be too great. Eventually, she would waste away and then nature would take its course. After all, what could be more unnatural than a childless mother?
Abby felt a gentle hand on her arm and looked up, her vision blurred with tears, to see one of the nurses trying to help her up. She allowed the woman to pull her to her feet and then leant upon her as though she were the sick one. She wiped her eyes and allowed herself to be supported to David’s bedside. His eyes remained closed, his skin white, his cheeks sunken.
The
sight broke her heart.
Another hand weighted her shoulder and she turned to find the paediatrician—a young, male doctor—standing behind her.
“Mrs Young?”
She stared at him, her eyes wide. “What’s happening to him? Surely this shouldn’t be happening? The leukaemia wasn’t this far advanced.”
The doctor pressed his lips together, his gaze shifting to one side of Abby’s head.
“David is in a coma, Mrs Young. We don’t understand the reason for his sudden decline just yet. His immune system is too weak to fight against whatever infection he’s got and this is his body’s way of shutting down so it can concentrate on fighting.”
She was bewildered. “What is the infection? Can’t you give him something to help him?”
The doctor shook his head. “We haven’t been able to isolate the infection yet, but we’re working on it.”
“What does that mean? Do you even know what’s wrong with him?”
“I’m sorry, but no. We don’t know what the problem is yet.”
Abby stared at him, aghast. “How can you not know? Isn’t that your job? If you don’t even know what’s wrong with him, how the hell are you going to make him better again?”
Rage bubbled up inside of her, wiping away the pain, and she grasped onto it like a drowning woman to a life raft.
The doctor had obviously seen this reaction before and showed no sign of being riled by her outburst.
“Have you been anywhere tropical recently?” he asked her. “Maybe South America? Somewhere like that.”
She shook her head in amazement. “No! My son has cancer! Do you really think we’ve been jetting off on holiday?”
“Perhaps you went somewhere before the cancer, Mrs Young. We need to know these things. It’s possible David has some kind of parasite that is affecting his brain.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Our last holiday was to Euro Disney in Paris and that was a year ago now. David has never been out of Europe.”
The doctor nodded in reassurance. “Okay. We’re going to order a CT scan and run some more tests. We’ll do everything we can to find out what’s happening to David.”
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