Tunnels 04, Closer

whispered.
    "Yeah. But which civilization?" Rebecca Two asked, still marveling at the scale of the chimneys.
    "Don't care... hurry, please," her sister begged her. "Feel awful."
    "Sorry," Rebecca Two said, as she moved onto the road. It wasn't made of tarmac, which would have become tacky or even melted under the never-ceasing sunlight, but of a light-colored concrete. With the appearance of smooth chalk, it was perfectly level and precisely built. This may have been some minor service road by the side of an industrial estate, but someone had taken great pride in their work. Someone like things to be just right.
    Rebecca Two began to make out more chimneys in the distance, then, some twenty minutes later, she saw that a second industrial complex was looming. The sun glinted off bulbous stainless-steel structures, between which there were slimmer columns and a lattice of intricate pipe work, also of highly polished stainless steel. Small puffs of steam or white gas issued from multiple valves around the installation, hissing fiercely as if it was complaining to itself about having to work in the oppressive heat.
    Now able to move more quickly on the solid surface, Rebecca noticed that the wall ended just before this new complex. As she reached the corner, she found that to her left was a much wider road. It was some kind of a dual carriageway, with palm trees growing in the central reservation.
    The air immediately above the chalky surface of the road was so superheated, it had the appearance of shimmering pools of mercury. Rebecca Two strained her eyes but couldn't see any people, only the suggestion of a solitary vehicle parked a little distance down. She hurried toward it, noting the roadway was clean and free from debris, and that the central reservation was well tended. This, and the fact that the industrial plant seemed to be in operation, meant that she had to come across people before long. And people meant help for her sister.
    "It's a car," Rebecca Two said, as she came to it. "But what type?"
    Putting her sister gently down on the pavement, she began to inspect it. "Looks a bit like a Beetle," she reflected, although it was bigger and squatter than any Topsoil Volkswagen she'd ever seen, and the tires far chunkier. It was painted silver and although there was no rust on the bodywork, it didn't appear to be very new. Holding up her hand to shield her brow, she peered through the tinted windows and tried to make out the interior. It was very unsophisticated, with a painted metal dashboard in which the usual dials and speedometer were mounted. She tried the driver's door but it was locked, and as she was passing around the front of the vehicle she stopped by the bonnet. "It is a Volkswagen," she said, studying the chrome emblem. "But I've never seen this model before."
    Hearing a rumbling noise, she swung to the stretch of road ahead. Through he heat haze she caught a glimpse of a large vehicle, possibly a lorry, as it changed up a gear and accelerated across the carriageway at a crossroads.
    "Come on, girl," she said, as she picked up her sister, who murmured something unintelligible. Rebecca One's face was as white as a sheet except for the dark smudges below her eyes. "Not far now. Just hang in there," Rebecca Two told her, praying that help would be at hand when they reached the end of the road. And soon.

    * * * * *

    Chester slowly crawled a little way out of his sleeping bag. Although the sun was up, he had no idea what time of day it was. As he peered through the branches of his shelter, he thought he could make out Martha's slumbering form in her sleeping bag. In outline, she resembled a large pile of dirty laundry, which wasn't far from Chester's perception of her. For a few minutes he watched her carefully for any sign of movement.
    The loopy cow's still out of it. Time to leg it , he finally told himself, remembering all too clearly how she'd set about him on the pretext that a Bright was about to attack. It really had been the last straw -- and he wasn't going to stick around for more bouts of her deranged behavior.
    It's not as if I owe her anything , he decided and, trying his hardest not to make any noise, slid the rest of the way out of his sleeping bag. She doesn't need me around. She can take care of herself .
    Chester checked Martha once again. His plan was simple. He was going to get himself back to his home in London, even if he had to walk the whole way. And as he didn't have any money,