Tunnels 05 - Spiral

the door burst open with a scatter of rust and dirt. Chester was greeted by a blast of damp air, and as Parry’s flashlight beam cut into the darkness beyond, he could make out some kind of brick duct.
    “This chute leads down to the main drain. But mind yourself — it’s a mite slippery at the best of times,” Parry advised Chester, then gave him a hand through the opening. “Just slide yourself down it, nice and steady,” Parry added to the boy.
    Chester found himself on a slimy incline of around forty-five degrees. With his bulky Bergen on his back and his Sten hooked over his shoulder, he shone his flashlight into the pitch black below as he edged down on his bottom. He hadn’t gone very far when the slope became so wet and slippery he couldn’t control his descent. He tried to lean back and dig his heels in to slow himself, but it was no use. He skidded down the slope, building up speed until, with a large splash, his feet hit several feet of water.
    “Oh, just brilliant,” Chester grumbled, wiping the foul-smelling water from his face. As he straightened his Bergen on his back, his flashlight beam fell on a huge brown rat. At Chester’s cry of alarm, the rat took fright and scampered off. Parry had heard the cry and was calling to Chester.
    “Are you all right?” he shouted down the chute.
    “Why do I always
always
end up back in places like this?” Chester asked himself with a shiver. He shone his flashlight up at Parry, shouting, “Yes, I’m fine!”
    Then, as the others slid down the chute, he helped them, making sure they didn’t injure themselves as they landed. It didn’t seem to present any problem to Mrs. Burrows, who was using her new supersense. Parry came last, speaking to them as soon as he touched down. “This is the main storm drain connecting the lake to the river — nice example of Edwardian hydroengineering. But now we need to get our skates on.” He immediately began to jog through the muddy water.
    They all followed him, their lights ricocheting off the sides of the old tunnel built of ancient brick. Since he ran with a limp, it was clear that Parry found it taxing to move at speed. But Mr. Rawls was just as slow, losing his footing several times and falling into the water. Chester was there to help him up each time.
    In less than ten minutes, they’d reached the end. The wind chilled them in their sodden clothing as they emerged into a culvert, its almost vertical sides overgrown with ferns and other vegetation. Some twenty feet away, as the culvert widened out, Chester spotted the dark outline of a truck. With his shotgun in his hands, Old Wilkie appeared from around the side of the vehicle, and he and Parry immediately began to talk to each other in hushed tones.
    As the others approached the canvas awning over the back of the Bedford, Stephanie suddenly poked her head from under it. They were all soaking wet and splattered with mud, and for a moment, she regarded them with a look of consternation. Then she saw Chester. “Hi, it’s you! Gramps didn’t tell me you were coming, too.”
    “Er . . . yeah,” Chester replied.
    “Isn’t this sooo exciting! Nothing cool ever happens in this dump, and I, like, so adore this spy stuff. Guns and top-secret journeys in the night. It’s like being in a movie!”
    “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” Elliott inquired.
    Chester was halfway through some mumbled introductions when Stephanie noticed Colly and gave a small whoop. “You found your dog thing!”
    “Keep it down back there,” Parry growled.
    “Ooooh, sorry,” Stephanie replied, just as piercingly, clapping her hand over her mouth as she made a silly face. “I’m always getting myself into trouble with my loud voice.”
    “It’s not
the
dog thing,” Chester told her. “It’s the . . . er . . . the other dog thing. There are two of them.”
    Stephanie nodded, aware that Elliott was staring up at her.
    “Anyway, I want you to come and sit next to me. I want my skier next to me,” Stephanie said. “Whoosh, whoosh!” she added, moving her hips and laughing brightly.
    “Whoosh?” Elliott repeated, frowning.
    “Skier?” Mr. Rawls asked.
    Chester gave them a helpless look, then swung his Bergen into the Bedford, and clambered up after it.
    “And I’m not, like, sitting anywhere near those dead pigs and cows,” Stephanie said adamantly. Now that he was under the awning, Chester saw that against the rear of the truck cab a dozen