Tunnels 03, Freefall

around the base, as Dr. Burrows rambled on about what he thought each building was. They found that one of them had earth banked up around its walls and also a thick wall just in front of its entrance -- Dr. Burrows said it was to protect it from bombing. The interior had been stripped out except for an antiquated air conditioning system and meters of electrical cable running everywhere. Dr. Burrows said he thought it was a control center. On the opposite side of the building was another entrance, but this place turned out to have a more macabre purpose. They found themselves in a long room with a series of metal racks against one wall. Each rack had three tiers, and each tier had a number stenciled on the whitewashed wall at the end of it.
    "Disinfectant," Will announced, sniffing the air. "Was this a hospital or something?"
    "Probably a morgue," Dr. Burrows said.
    "What -- for dead bodies?" Will asked.
    His father nodded as they emerged into the daylight again. He pointed to a church spire in the distance.
    "Let's head for that -- there'll be a road nearby."
    They came to a huge stretch of tarmac, cracked and covered with piles of broken-up concrete.
    "S'pose this was the runway?" Will asked, scanning up and down it, and squinting across a the huge warehouse-like structures beside it.
    "They're called C-Class hangars ," Dr. Burrows said, noticing where Will was looking. "All this is post-war, like the deep-level shelter they built below."
    Crossing a field, Will and Dr. Burrows went through a hedge, then scrambled down a verge to find themselves on a single track road, which they began to follow. It took them to a tiny village, and Dr. Burrows made a beeline for the only shop there, a combined post office and convenience store.
    Before they entered, Will clapped a hand on his father's arm.
    "Money! We haven't got any ,money!"
    "Oh, haven't we?" Dr. Burrows replied. With great ceremony he unbuckled and took off his belt. There was a zip on the inside of the belt which he undid, then he pulled out a polythene bag with an elastic band wound around it. Inside this bag was a roll of bank notes, which he counted and stuffed into his pocket. "We need to make sure we've got enough to pay for any traveling expenses, so don't go wild in there, Will," he said.
    A bell rattled above the door as they entered, and a portly man bumbled out from a back room. Will selected himself some crisps and a can of drink from the fridge, while Dr. Burrows only had eyes for the display of chocolates, adding a newspaper as an afterthought.
    "Looks like it's going to be a nice day," the man said congenially, wheezing a little as he spoke. He was dressed in a brown checked shirt and a woven tie, which looked as though it was made from material better suited for a pair of socks.
    "It does," Dr. Burrows agreed. He cleared his throat, then said, "Can I ask where exactly this is?"
    "Where this is?" The man had been totting up the items but stopped to run his eyes over Dr. Burrows.
    "The name of the Village?"
    "West Raynham," the man replied, a little flummoxed.
    "West Raynham," Dr. Burrows repeated several times as if he was trying to remember if he'd heard of it before. "And what county is this?"
    "Norfolk... north Norfolk," the man replied, now giving Will a curious look.
    "Been on the road a long time," Dr. Burrows explained.
    "Ah," the man nodded, ringing up the till.
    "And if we wanted to go to London, what would be the best way?" Dr. Burrows asked as he handed over a creased twenty-pound note.
    "By road?" the man said, as he straightened out the note between his stubby fingers and held it to the light to check the watermark. He seemed satisfied with it and placed it under the tray in the till.
    "No, by bus or train,"
    "Then you'd be wanting the nearest town -- Fakenham -- about six miles away." The man pointed out the direction, then put his hand to his mouth as he coughed. He drew in several asthmatic breaths before he went on. "You can get a bus from there into Norwich and catch the train. Or there's the coach twice a day from Fakenham to London -- it's slow, but it's cheaper."
    "The coach it is, then," Dr. Burrows decided. "Thank you, very much," he said as he took his change.
    Will was holding the door open for his father who suddenly stopped, frowning as if he'd forgotten something. He turned to the man who was still behind the counter. "By the way, there hasn't been an epidemic here in England, has there, in the last couple of