The Tunnels of Ferdinand

by James Moloney

  He placed the rat gently on his shoulder and turned his pale blue eyes to the children. ‘This is not how it’s supposed to happen,’ he said, his voice stern once again, and despite those gentle eyes he fixed them with a determined and suspicious glare that unsettled Berrin.

  ‘I haven’t seen your faces before, but I can see by your swords that you are Rats. Have you been in these tunnels for long?’

  ‘Only a few days,’ Olanda answered for both of them.

  He nodded silently, as though this made perfect sense to him. ‘What are your names?’

  She told him her own name quickly, then turned the tables on the ghost in typical Olanda style. ‘What about you? What’s your name?’

  Before the pale figure could answer, Berrin spoke up instead. ‘I’ve already guessed who you are.’

  ‘Is that so? And how did you guess?’

  ‘From the way Dorian corrected Quinn when he talked about you. Then yesterday Dorian herself made a mistake when she told me who had presented her with her sword. You’re not a ghost at all, are you? You’re Ferdinand.’

  He gave a little bow of his head. ‘And who might you be?’

  ‘My name is Berrin.’

  The reaction came instantly from those blue eyes. He repeated the name to himself as he looked the boy up and down. Berrin began to feel uncomfortable under the man’s steadfast gaze.

  ‘Well, you’re here now,’ he said at last. ‘Will you stay and talk to me?’

  Without waiting for an answer he led them deeper into the pipe, which ended abruptly in a jagged wall of solid rock. Here, in the light of a dangling bulb, they found a hammock and a carpet of rags spread over the cold concrete, and even a pair of matching cushions. ‘The best thing about my home is that I never get my feet wet.’

  Berrin was already warming to this strange character’s dry sense of humour.

  Ferdinand eased his narrow frame painfully into the hammock, where at last he could stretch out to his full length. His two companions took a cushion each.

  There was no doubt that Ferdinand found Berrin more interesting than Olanda. He had barely taken his eyes off the boy since hearing his name. Berrin couldn’t work it out.

  ‘Tell me, Berrin, can you remember your early years?’

  ‘In the dormitory?’

  ‘No, before then.’

  Both children looked at him, dumbfounded. Before!

  ‘Your parents. Do you remember anything about your parents?’ Ferdinand urged him.

  ‘Er … what are parents?’ Berrin asked tentatively.

  The man relented and stretched back in his hammock with a sigh. ‘Forgive me. I sometimes forget how you are all treated up there by the Dfx. But haven’t you ever wondered, Berrin, where all the new children come from?’

  Yes, he had often wondered. Every week or so a new child would arrive, still too young to walk. It would be kept with the other young ones in a creche until it was old enough to join the rest. There had been all sorts of stories in the dormitory to account for it, all of them wild and ridiculous because there was no way they could know for sure.

  ‘Parents are grown-ups, bigger and older than you, like I am,’ Ferdinand explained. ‘Each of you must have two of them somewhere, a mother and a father. In fact, you can’t be born without them. Years ago, before I came to live in these tunnels, children stayed with their parents until they were grown-ups themselves.’

  It sounded a rather odd arrangement. ‘Who lived in the dormitories then?’ Olanda asked.

  ‘There were no dormitories,’ came the reply.

  The girl’s forehead creased into a sharp ‘V’ over her nose. ‘I don’t like the idea of these parents,’ said Olanda suspiciously. ‘They sound a lot like Dfx to me.’

  Berrin wasn’t so sure. He would like to give it a try, at least. ‘We wouldn’t have to do everything for ourselves all the time, would we?’ he commented, mostly to himself.

  ‘But I like that,’ Olanda protested. ‘I can take care of myself. These parents would take over. They’d make rules and tell us what to do all the time.’

  ‘Yes, they do tend to do that a bit,’ Ferdinand agreed. ‘But it usually turns out better for the children.’

  Olanda was still sceptical, and folded her arms to let him know it, which made Ferdinand smile. ‘Believe me, it’s much better than having the Dfx watch over you.’ The smile faded from his colourless lips and he dropped his voice a little as he asked, ‘Berrin, do you remember your father?’

  ‘The Great Father?’ he asked.

  ‘No!’ Ferdinand exploded angrily. ‘Malig Tumora is no father at all. He’s an evil man.’ The sudden outburst brought on a coughing fit, and for a minute or two, Ferdinand could only hack and gasp in his hammock.

  ‘Can we get you anything? There’s some water here in a glass.’

  ‘Thank you.’ He took the glass from Berrin’s hand. ‘I don’t sound too well, do I? If I were on the surface I’d be at the height of my strength. Instead … well, look at my old man’s hands,’ he lamented, holding one out in front of him.

  ‘How old are you?’ Olanda asked.

  ‘I escaped from my dormitory when I was twelve. I’ve lived down in these tunnels ever since, with no way to count the years. I just don’t know.’

  Berrin would have liked to know more about these parents he might have, but before he could ask, there were noises in the thinner pipe around the corner. ‘It’s Quinn,’ said Olanda instantly. ‘He makes enough noise for a dozen Rats.’

  Sure enough, once he was free of the narrow pipe, Quinn came striding around the corner with Dorian close behind. Both stopped suddenly in their tracks.

  ‘Olanda!’ cried Dorian. ‘And Berrin!’ she added when she saw him. Her face darkened with anger and suspicion. ‘How did you … what are you doing here?’

  ‘Don’t be too hard on them, Dorian,’ Ferdinand cautioned her. When he saw that Berrin and Olanda were surprised by his words, he explained, ‘The Rats have enemies on the surface. We must guard against any traitors they might send to spy on us. That is why new recruits are not brought down to meet me until Dorian knows they can be trusted.’

  He turned back to Dorian. ‘It seems these two are a little more inquisitive than our other recruits. They have discovered my little hideaway on their own.’

  ‘Hideaway?’ questioned Olanda. ‘What do you need a hideaway for? It’s pretty stuffy down here, if you ask me. Why don’t you live with the other Rats?’

  No-one answered. The stony silence stretched out, second after second, cold and unyielding like the concrete that encircled them. Even someone as frank and single-minded as Olanda was forced to see that her question was unwelcome.

  ‘He can’t,’ Dorian replied finally.

  Olanda appealed to Ferdinand. ‘Why not? It would be so much better for you.’

  ‘Yes, sound advice, Olanda,’ answered Ferdinand. ‘Unfortunately, I simply can’t join you in the other tunnels.’

  Olanda stopped asking questions now. Like Berrin, she waited in stunned disquiet for the explanation to come.

  ‘Ferdinand’s body is too big for the pipe that leads into this one,’ said Quinn.

  Berrin thought immediately of the painful scraping of the concrete against his shoulders as he and Olanda had struggled the last ten metres. Someone as broad-shouldered as Ferdinand would never get through. ‘But how did he get through that narrow pipe in the first place?’ he asked.

  ‘He didn’t.’

  Berrin turned towards Ferdinand. ‘I don’t understand. There must have been some way for you to get in here to begin with.’

  ‘Yes, and it wasn’t through that small tunnel. You see, I never intended to live like this, Berrin. I just happened to be here when the ground all around moved suddenly.’

  ‘How could the ground move?’ Olanda snapped in disbelief.

  ‘It’s called an earthquake. They don’t happen very often, but when they do, pipes sometimes break. Do you see that wall of rock behind my
hammock? It broke through the roof of this large pipe just after I had walked under it. Lucky I wasn’t crushed beneath it, actually. The roof of the tunnel came down ahead of me too,’ he said. Leading them a little way around the corner, he pointed towards another barrier that blocked off the adjoining pipe. ‘It made me a prisoner here, and the only way in or out is that narrow pipe, which only a true Rat like you four can wriggle through.’

  ‘You mean you’re trapped in here forever?’

  ‘Not forever,’ snapped Dorian, before Ferdinand could reply. ‘We’re going to dig him out one day, but we need the grown-ups to help us and that won’t happen until Malig Tumora has been defeated.’

  NINE

  Malig Tumora and the Time Before

  IT TOOK BERRIN TWO days to learn how to wield his sword without killing one of his new friends and drive the Dodgem without killing himself. Then Dorian greeted him with some news that brought as much apprehension as excitement. ‘It’s time you made a visit to the surface,’ she told him.

  He didn’t argue. There was only so much darkness a person could stand. Olanda was to come too.

  Before they started out, they had to wash. Olanda wasn’t very keen. ‘What’s wrong with a bit of dirt?’ she argued. She was certainly covered in quite a lot of it.

  ‘It’s the smell,’ Dorian explained. ‘On the surface, the Gadges would smell you. Whenever you go up there, you have to make sure you have no scent of these tunnels on you.’

  Dorian led the expedition herself, with Quinn tagging along to drive the second Dodgem. He strapped a weapon they hadn’t seen before to a special rack beside his seat.

  ‘It’s called a crossbow,’ he told Olanda when he saw her staring at it. ‘The most powerful weapon we have, but we only use it above ground.’

  For what felt like more than a kilometre the Dodgems took them along wide and narrow tunnels alike, until at last Dorian called a halt. A ladder stretched up to a heavy circle of steel above them. Silently, cautiously, she lifted it and peeked out.

  ‘Clear,’ she called softly.

  They clambered through after her and found themselves in the basement of an abandoned building.

  ‘Rats never enter or leave the tunnels out in the open. That’s a rule. Remember, it’s vital that Gadges and other creatures up here never find out where we live.’

  Berrin and Olanda nodded, while Dorian went on with the lesson. ‘There’s only a small number of openings we use. They’re all under buildings like this one or hidden in the undergrowth beneath bridges. Never take chances. Got it? Even Quinn sticks by this rule.’

  Quinn sent Dorian a frosty glance that made her smile. It was obvious she was only stirring him up. ‘Take the crossbow upstairs,’ she ordered.

  Quinn cocked the string and fitted an arrow in place then led them up a flight of steps. At the top Berrin had to shield his eyes against the sunlight that streamed in through the windows. It formed a line of unbearably bright rectangles on the wooden floor.

  ‘Lie down,’ said Dorian.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Lie down in the sunlight,’ she ordered more sternly.

  Berrin didn’t need a second invitation. The feel of the sun’s warmth on his skin sent a thrill through his entire body. Olanda had already stretched herself out under the window beside him, he noticed, and by the time he was on the floor himself, Dorian was sunning herself on his other side.

  ‘Every Rat has to do this now and again. If we don’t, we’ll get sick and lose our strength.’

  ‘That’s what’s happening to Ferdinand, isn’t it?’

  Dorian’s face saddened and her voice became serious. ‘He should be dead by now really, trapped down there with stale air and no sunshine. He stays alive by determination mostly. That’s what I think. Determination to keep fighting Malig Tumora.’

  ‘What about Quinn? Shouldn’t he get some sun as well?’ Berrin asked.

  ‘He’s on guard duty. I’ll swap with him later.’ Dorian pulled up the ragged legs of her pants to soak up as much sunshine as possible. She had even put something dark over her eyes, held on by narrow arms hooked over her ears.

  ‘Ferdinand says these things are supposed to make you feel cool,’ she said. ‘Doesn’t make sense to me. Whenever I wear them, I get hot.’

  Berrin was about to drift into sleep when a brief hiss brought him awake again. He turned to see Dorian spring from the floor and hurry to Quinn’s side.

  He moved to do the same but found Dorian signalling to him. Keep low, she was telling him. He crept along the floor to join her, arriving at the same time as Olanda.

  ‘It’s a Gadge,’ Quinn whispered.

  ‘Is he heading this way?’

  ‘No, he’s stopped and now he’s turned away from us.’

  Dorian saw a chance. ‘Take a look, you two.’

  Carefully, they raised their heads above the window ledge until they could see out into the street. There was the Gadge, fifty metres away. Berrin had seen only the shadows of these beasts during his escape with Wendell. Now he saw the real thing.

  The Gadge was standing upright. He was huge — well over two metres tall! Since he was facing the other way, Berrin had a good view of the thick line of fur that covered his spine and continued into his long bushy tail. This fur was a dirty tan colour with flecks of black. His feet were all black as well, as though he had sunk up to his ankles in a muddy ooze.

  He was turning! Olanda ducked down instantly, but Berrin held on until the last moment. White fur spread across a lean belly, but those forelegs! They were more like arms. And he was carrying something, a rifle of some kind, balanced comfortably in his hand-like paws.

  Just before he pulled his head down, Berrin caught a glimpse of the face, and what he saw made him gasp. The jaws belonged to a wolf. They were long and hungry, with vicious teeth protruding between black lips that dripped with saliva which the Gadge made no effort to catch with his tongue. The top of his head, though, was as human as that of Berrin himself — all except for those eyes. They were red at their centre, giving the Gadge a crazed and ruthless look that made Berrin’s blood freeze around his heart.

  ‘He’s coming closer,’ Quinn whispered.

  ‘Don’t fire unless he comes into the building,’ Dorian ordered.

  Quinn had become a different person. The crazy Dodgem driver was gone, and in his place was a watchful soldier, every muscle in his body tensed, all his attention focused on the approaching Gadge.

  ‘He’s turning. He’s not coming inside.’

  All four of them breathed out at once and they shared a guilty smile. ‘If we’d killed him, they’d come sniffing around to find out who did it. Wouldn’t be safe to come here again,’ Dorian told them. ‘Mind you, if it had been Gadger Red, I’d have told you to shoot anyway, Quinn.’

  ‘Gadger Red. I’ve heard you mention that name before,’ Berrin said to her.

  ‘You’d better pray you never meet him face to face,’ Quinn said ominously.

  SOMEHOW, THE DARKNESS SEEMED easier to take now that Berrin had felt the sun on his skin for those few minutes. When they reached the entrance to the sleeping quarters, a Rat Berrin had never seen before was waiting for him. He introduced himself as Enders and then got straight down to business.

  ‘I have a message from Ferdinand. He wants to see you right away.’

  ‘Does he want Olanda to come as well?’

  Enders was firm about his instructions. ‘No, he just wants you.’

  Jasper met Berrin in the narrow tunnel as he grew near.

  ‘Ah, it’s you, Berrin,’ said Ferdinand when he appeared. ‘I wasn’t sure when my message would reach you.’

  ‘I’ve been on the surface,’ Berrin told him once they were settled among the cushions. ‘I saw a Gadge.’

  ‘Merciless creatures. They are the worst of Malig Tumora’s monsters,’ said Ferdinand, disgust heavy in every word.

  ‘Who is he?’

  ‘A brilliant scientist. The smartest man wh
o’s ever lived. That was what they said about him. I was only a child younger than you back then but even I had heard of him. He was going to do great things, make everyone’s life perfect. It seemed he could create anything we wanted in his laboratories. He built fabulous machines and he changed plants and animals, all to serve humans better.’

  ‘But they don’t serve humans.’

  ‘No, they only serve him. The power of his inventions sent him mad — at least, I can only guess that’s what happened. No-one knows for certain.’

  ‘Don’t the grown-ups on the surface know what an evil man he is?’

  ‘I don’t know what goes on inside the grown-ups’ heads. Malig Tumora seems to have them completely under his control. We don’t know yet how he does it, but it works very well. Every moment of a grown-up’s life is strictly regulated. Parents don’t seem to rebel, even when their children are taken away to dormitories. If they did, of course, the Gadges would kill them.’

  The true horror of a grown-up’s life on the surface was starting to become clear. ‘They do exactly what he tells them?’

  ‘He uses a devilish machine to spread his orders among them.’

  ‘A machine?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ferdinand, shifting on his cushion. ‘He didn’t invent it. It had been around for more than a century, in fact. He simply turned it to his own use. They stare at its screen and do everything it tells them. It’s called teller-vision.’

  Berrin stared at him, wide-eyed.

  ‘Through this and his many other inventions, Malig Tumora controls this entire city and the lives of every person in it.’

  ‘Except us,’ said Berrin brightly.

  ‘Yes, except the Rats in these tunnels,’ agreed Ferdinand. ‘We are the last and only hope of bringing back the Time Before.’

  ‘I’ve heard Dorian talk about the Time Before. Was it a good place?’

  Ferdinand laughed. ‘It wasn’t a separate place, somewhere else. It was right above us, the same city you’ve lived in all your life. The Time Before, well, it was life as it should be. And no, it wasn’t always happy. I can remember being miserable at times, even in my own family.’