Tunnels 03, Freefall

grids of cut-out circles or squares along their entire length. A few stood out from the rest because they bore traces of blue or green paint.
    By what appeared to be a door, there was a heavy brass bell suspended on a bracket at about head height. Martha rang the bell twice. The boys waited expectantly as the last echoes of the peal faded, but no one appeared.
    "Old habits," Martha informed them as she swung open the door.
    "You leave it unlocked?" Will enquired, as Bartleby scampered through the doorway.
    "Yes, dust puppies aren't that smart," she replied.
    "Dust whats? " Will said, but Martha had already gone in. As Will and Chester followed her, they were met by a fantastic sight. The incline continued before them, the cavern roof also increasing in height, and some forty meters away there was some sort of single-story shack. A path led up to the building, on either side of which were beds of the most wonderful plants. AS if they were luminous, the different beds gave off an almost shimmering glow of yellows, purples, blues and reds, the cumulative light enough that the whole area was imbued with their sublime and beautiful radiance.
    "My garden," Martha announced proudly.
    "Wow!" Chester gasped.
    "Do you like it?" she asked him.
    "Yes, it's just so cool!" he replied.
    As the woman turned to him, she herself actually seemed to be glowing as a result of his praise. "These plants aren't just here for their looks, you know."
    "Like the ones you burn?" Chester inquired.
    "Yes, if I hadn't found out about Aniseed Fire, I wouldn't be around to tell you about it."
    "But where did you get all these from?" Chester asked.
    "Nathaniel collected specimens for me whenever he went on his expeditions. I've still got a lot to learn about their properties, but time is one thing I'm not short of."
    "Who's Nathaniel?" Will cut in, unable to help himself.
    "My son. He's on the hill," Martha replied, with a glance at the top of the incline by the shack. Will tried to see where she'd been looking, filled with hope that there might be someone else a little less peculiar in the place, someone who might be able to help them. "Are we going to meet--?"
    "Let's get the girl inside, shall we?" Martha interrupted brusquely, closing the door and driving a single bolt home on the inside.
    Chester caught Will's eye, directing him to the side of the door, where there was a welder's torch and a pair of gas cylinders on a trolley, both of which were covered in some sort of creeper. It was obvious from the plants rambling over the equipment and the rust mottling the tanks that none of it had been touched in a good while. And there was no question that it was Topsoiler welding equipment.
    "Nathaniel... did he make this barrier?" Chester asked tentatively.
    Nodding, Martha turned to lead them up the path bathed in the ethereal glow.
    Midway up, Bartleby skidded to a halt, his large eyes fixed on something. As Will stopped behind him, he caught the sound of trickling water. "A stream?" he said.
    Martha stepped to the side of the path. "A freshwater spring flows from behind the shack," she said as Will located the small clear stream, its swirling current suffused with purple light from overhanging clusters of small blossoms. It looked otherworldly.
    "This place is wild," Will said.
    "Thank you," Martha replied. "It's my little sanctuary. And I reckon the spring is why they chose this spot for the shack in the first place."
    "Who was that? Who chose it?" Will asked excitedly.
    "They were sailors."
    'Sailors?"
    "Yes. You'll see when you get there," she replied.
    At the front of the shack, there were some steps leading up to a porch. Reaching the top, Will paused to inspect one of the thick beams supporting the awning above the porch. "Oak," he said, running a finger over the wood, which was so old it had darkened almost to black, and its surface was covered in numerous runnels of wormholes. "Very old oak," he decided, as he examined the shack further and saw that its frame was also made from these thick beams, and that its walls were constructed from equally ancient tongue-and-groove planking.
    "So where did all this come from?" Will asked, pushing one of the planks with his foot and making it creak. He turned to Martha.
    "We thought the sailors salvaged it from their ship. But there was no one left to ask when we first came here."
    At one end of the porch a number of kegs and large trunks were stacked, and in front of a window with its shutters closed