Tunnels 04, Closer

skein of snot from her nostril, wiping it on her already filthy coat.
    Please , Chester thought.
    Did it all boil down to this -- had he made his choice between Elliott... and this revolting old woman?
    "Yes, here we are," he finally answered Martha, looking quickly away from her. "We're Topsoil, all right."
    The light was failing rapidly as evening set in, making it easier for Martha to see. From where they were hiding, they could glimpse various buildings, very square and functional in appearance.
    So, after several hours and now under cover of darkness, they decided to emerge from behind the brambles. They carefully picked their way between the disused buildings of the former airfield. Will had told Chester it was in Norfolk, a good hundred miles from London.
    They crossed what appeared to be the former parade ground, an eerie, echoing place with weeds growing through cracks in the asphalt surface. As he passed behind it, Chester inspected an open-backed lorry which, from its appearance, he guessed must belong to builders or some type of tradesman. He knew he was right about this when he noticed scaffolding around one of the buildings -- events had obviously moved on since Will and Dr. Burrows had last been here, and construction work was already well underway. Then, in the distance, he spotted a Portakabin. Its windows were illuminated and a Land Rover was parked beside it. Will had warned him about the security guards patrolling the airfield, and this had to be where they were based. Carried by the wind, Chester could hear the sound of their laughter and their raised voices.
    "We could ask them for help," he suggested.
    "No," Martha replied.
    He didn't bother to argue with her, but when they were further away from the Portakabin, Martha suddenly seized hold of him.
    "We do NOT go to the Heathen for help! Never!" she raved, shaking him. "Topsoilers are evil!"
    "Okay... yes... yes," he gasped, completely taken aback by the ferocity of her reaction. Then just as abruptly, her fury seemed to evaporate and a fawning smile dropped back into place on her chubby face. Chester wasn't sure which he preferred most. But he was going to be a damned sight more careful about what he said after that.

    * * * * *

    With the full weight of her sister on her back, Rebecca Two was grateful for the low gravity as she marched doggedly up the inclined tunnel. Although the injured girl had lost consciousness again, Rebecca Two was maintaining a one-way conversation with her.
    "We'll figure something out -- you see. You're going to be just fine," she said. In truth, she was frantically worried about her sister's condition. The makeshift dressing seemed to have done the trick and slowed the bleeding, but Rebecca One had already lost far too much blood. It didn't look good.
    However, Rebecca Two wasn't about to give up hope yet, lugging her human burden for kilometer after kilometer as she trod the dust between the corroded rails of the train track. Although she was passing the mouths of other passages, she kept to the track in the main tunnel, believing that it would eventually take her out of the mine.
    And she was encouraged when she came across pieces of old machinery, further evidence of the civilization that had been responsible for this underground working. She didn't stop to examine the equipment, which appeared to be pumps and generators. Although somewhat dated in their design, she assumed they were variations on Topsoil technology utilized in deep mining. From time to time she also spotted pickaxes, shovels and hard hats discarded along the way.
    Her overriding priority was to get back into the open, not least because she herself was beginning to feel dizzy from lack of food and water. But she also wanted to replace her sister's temporary dressing with something more effective as soon as she could. Rebecca Two swore as she remembered the battle dressings in the jacket that she'd been forced to leave behind when Will and Elliott had ambushed them.
    After several more kilometers with only the steady crunch of her boots to keep her company, she began to become aware to another noise.
    "Do you hear that?" she asked, not expecting an answer from her sister. She stopped to listen. Although it was intermittent, it seemed to be a distant whining noise. She set off again and, as the railway track gradually took her around a corner, she felt a gust on her face. It was fresh air. Filled with hope, she picked up the pace.
    The howling grew