Tunnels 03, Freefall

substantial cylindrical tanks set into the cavern wall, some thirty meters in height and with pipe work and taps at their bases. Dr. Burrows tried one of these, allowing a little of the fluid to gush out.
    "Petrol," Will said, immediately identifying the smell.
    Dr. Burrows was careful to turn the tap off. "And this one," he pronounced as he rapped on the second tank with his knuckles and it gave a dull ring, "is diesel. For the generators, maybe."
    "You can smell it?" Will asked, impressed.
    "No, see the big D painted on it? Follow me!" Dr. Burrows shouted. He was waving his arms frantically as words tumbled out of his mouth. Will hadn't seen him quite so animated in many years. But as they began to jog along the quay again, Dr. Burrows became more coherent. "Whoever built this... it must have been a hell of an undertaking..."
    He paused next to a small crane bolted to the surface of the quay, its single arm reaching out over the water. Like everything else on the quayside, it was badly rusted and a halo of grey-blue paint lay scattered around its base. "Yes... a jib crane... to winch raw materials shipped down here in the barges..." Dr. Burrows burbled. "And of course, an overhead gantry to move goods along the quay," he said, pointing upwards. Will looked up and saw that high above their heads there was a chunky-looking rail fixed there. "Yes... but... all this... and they never completed it!" Dr. Burrows shouted breathlessly, throwing a hand at a partially constructed building as they passed it. "I wonder why?"
    Will spotted a rusted cement mixer, mounds of sand and long since hardened bags of cement, their paper sacks in tatters around them. "Air filtration units, I'll wager," Dr. Burrows said as he flew past stacks of wooden crates on pallets. Some of the crates were so badly rotted that the corroded block-like machines they'd contained had slid out, and lay in an untidy heap on the platform. "For hydroelectric power..."
    "Yes?" Will panted, trying to keep up.
    "You need turbines and..."
    "Yes?" Will yelled, bursting to know more.
    Dr. Burrows stopped abruptly. "Hear that, Will?"
    "Yes!" Will said, catching the rumbling sound.
    "Fast flowing water!" Dr. Burrows shouted as he began to run again. They came to the end of the quay and went under a reinforced arch at the mouth of the harbor. Before them was a channel at least thirty meters wide, down which swept a rapidly speeding river. Bulkhead lights were dotted around so that everything in the area was visible to them.
    Will looked to their left, where the rive was flowing, and where Dr. Burrows' eyes had come to rest. At an angle and nearly spanning the full width of the channel was a metal grille in a sturdily built housing. There was a great deal of froth and flotsam trapped against the grille, but no suggestion as to what lay behind it other than a constant humming noise.
    It was loud enough to be heard over the roaring water.
    "Voila! The turbines!" Dr. Burrows yelled, nodding energetically. The river was throwing up a considerable amount of spray and he fell silent while he took off his glasses to wipe them.
    Will swung in the opposite direction, then took a few steps along the gangway as he tried to see where the river was flowing from. But the lights didn't extend very far up the channel and the darkness was impenetrable there. "What's all this for?" he asked, shouting to make himself heard. "Who built it, Dad?"
    "Don't worry about that for the moment," Dr. Burrows snapped. "Can't you see what we've got here?"
    "What?" Will demanded, frowning in his confusion.
    "If, and it's a big if , we can find an intact vessel -- something that floats -- and we can get an outboard motor to work," Dr. Burrows said, turning to look upstream, his hands on his hips, "we're in business."
    Will just stared at the rushing water. He'd all but given up trying to understand what his father was on about.
    "Well..." Dr. Burrows shouted, as he swiveled to face his son, "you do want to go home, don't you?"

21

    "I thought you might be here," Mrs. Burrows said as she came across Ben Wilbrahams in his usual place, at one of the reading desks in the Highfield library.
    "Yes, too many distractions at home," he replied. "I see your ankle's better."
    Nodding, Mrs. Burrows handed Ben Wilbrahams a carrier bag, which he took but didn't open, looking at her inquiringly. "The other night," she said, "when you were telling me about all the strange incidents in Highfield, you asked me about