Tunnels 04, Closer

passed beyond the Russian submarine, then the Rebecca twins hadn't been down this stretch of tunnel. And in all likelihood, somewhere up ahead, the flexing of the Earth's crust over the centuries could have been so extreme that the passage was blocked altogether.

    * * * * *

    Many hours later, the gravity had become even more pronounced and they were forced to walk along in bounding steps. Sometimes they were forced to walk along in bounding steps. Sometimes they even had to heave themselves up sections of the passage, which was turning through a series of alternating bends.
    "Oh, no," Will exhaled as they went around one of these bends.
    They'd come to what he'd been dreading.
    The way ahead was completely blocked by a cave-in.
    He took out the tracker and checked the signal emanating from the next beacon. "It's so close," he said.
    "And I'm so tired," Elliott whispered. She slumped down into a sitting position, her head bowed, as Bartleby settled beside her, panting hard.
    "But he signal," Will began.
    "Don't tell me. I don't want to know," she murmured, then closed her eyes.
    "Elliott," Will said, but there was no reaction. She was fast asleep.
    Weighing up the options, Will stumbled over to inspect the plug of debris in the passage. They could try to find a way around it by taking one of the smaller offshoots, but as far as he could remember they'd passed the last of these some kilometers back. And even if it did prove to be an alternative route, the prospect of retracing their footsteps now that they were so close was just the last straw.
    Or they could just try to dig their way through, although it was impossible to tell how much rock was in the way.
    "Re-excavate," Will muttered to himself, making up his mind to see how far he could get. He glanced again at Elliott as she slept. He didn't want to wake her. Slipping his Bergen off and rolling up his sleeves, he began to move the rocks, lifting them aside one by one. At least the reduced gravity meant that he could shift even the largest slabs, something which would be unthinkable on the surface.
    After several hours, Will was soaked in sweat and still hadn't made it through. He was so weary, his legs were like jelly. Flopping down, he closed his eyes and experienced the sensation that he was falling through the ground, a sensation he knew came of chronic fatigue. "Stop for a few minutes," he said to himself, "then get going again."
    "This is one of those life or death moments. Stay there, and you might never get up again," a rumbling voice announced. "You and Elliott haven't been sleeping or eating enough. Neither of you are in great shape. You might not have the strength when you finally come to again."
    "Shut up, Tam," Will whispered, catching the outline of someone sitting beside him as he fought to keep his eyes open. "Not real... I know... you're... not... real."
    "I'm as real as you want me to be," Uncle Tam replied with a measure of indignation, then blew out a mouthful of pipe smoke. It drifted into Will's face, and he coughed.
    "That really stinks," Will mumbled, "And it's bad for you."
    Uncle Tam's response was to blow another cloud at the boy. "I'm dead, Will. It's hardly going to do me any harm now," he chuckled. "And if you lie down on the job now, you'll be joining me soon. Don't just jack it in, Will. Too many Topsoilers are depending on you."
    Something occurred to Will, which suddenly made him extremely annoyed. "Hey, yes! That pendant you gave me was a bloody joke. It didn't help at all -- the Bushmen..."
    As Will sat bolt upright, he thought he could hear the faint echo of laughter, but there was no sign of the big man. However, he was wide awake now, and Tam's words stuck with him.
    Too many Topsoilers are depending on you.
    "Oh, come on, then," Will urged himself as he got to his knees, and then clambered to his feet. He renewed his attack on the cave-in, whistling to himself and sometimes counting each rock he extracted until he reached a hundred, then started over again.
    An hour later, he was really beginning to flag as he prised a large slab loose and it set off a small avalanche. He jumped back, not wanting to be caught as the stones rolled toward him. Then, as he crept back to where he'd been working, he found that there hadn't been an avalanche at all. Instead he saw an opening there. "I'm dreaming, aren't I?" he said to it. "You're not real -- just like Tam."
    But as he stretched his hand into the opening and spread his raw and