Tunnels 05 - Spiral

large yawn. “Yes, a boat. We haven’t been in one of those since the Deeps.”
    “No way. I hate boats,” Chester said in a disgruntled voice. “Boats and elevators and going underground.” He wiped the moisture from his face, then stifled a sneeze. “And being cold and wet. I hate that, too.”
    “What about insects,” Will added. “Don’t forget insects.”

    “The station’s coming up,” Drake shouted.
    Will’s eyes flicked open, but it took him a moment to work out where he was as he saw Chester’s slack face not two feet away from him.
    “Oi, ugly! Wake up!” Will said, prodding his friend. “We’re here!”
    Chester looked dazedly around at the grimy floor. “Oh. Right. I was dreaming that I was on holiday,” he complained. “In Center Parcs again, with Mum and Dad.”
    “Sorry to disappoint you,” Will said.
    They disembarked from the train to find themselves on a platform similar to the one they’d left from. As they trooped down it, there was a figure waiting for them by the exit. Although his face was obscured by a ski mask and he had a sidearm on his belt, he didn’t look the slightest bit intimidating. As he puffed away on his pipe, he gave the impression that he was even older than Parry.
    “Thank you, Albert,” Parry said, giving the man a pat on the shoulder as they went through what Will knew must be a blast door from its thickness, then up a flight of circular stairs. The stairs went on forever, spiraling around and around, until they came to a door at the top, which led into a dark corridor. There were brown carpet tiles on the floor, many of which were loose, and office furniture was stacked down one side of it. At the end of the corridor was a small service elevator, which Parry summoned. It wasn’t big enough to accommodate them all, so Parry took Will, the Colonel, and Stephanie with him.
    “Where exactly are we now?” Will asked as they ascended.
    “You’ll see,” Parry replied. The doors rattled open, and Will squinted because of the light as they followed Parry from the elevator. “It’s criminal this place isn’t used for anything much these days,” Parry said. “There was once a restaurant a couple of levels below where we are now, with a rotating floor.”
    “We’re in the BT Tower,” Will gasped.
    “We’re in London!” Stephanie squealed with glee.
    Daylight poured in through the windows running around the outside of the floor, which, except for the central area housing the elevators, was completely empty.
    And through these windows was a breathtaking vista — the London cityscape. Will went over and peered down, seeing rooftops covered in snow, and people in the streets. As he walked slowly around the windows, he spotted a group of army trucks down in Charlotte Street, but otherwise nothing looked out of the ordinary. Until he reached where Parry had come to a stop.
    “My God. Who’d’ve thought we’d ever witness that.” The old man exhaled, transfixed by the view through the window.
    Three or so miles away, in a stretch from Westminster to the city, several thick columns of black smoke rose into the sky. Will spotted the legions of helicopters hovering over the stricken areas and became aware of the constant howl of sirens in the background.
    “It’s anarchy out there,” Parry said. “The Styx have achieved what I never thought possible. We’re at war with ourselves.”
    Drake and the rest of the party had come up in the elevator. As they joined the old man at his vantage point, they, too, stared through the windows. There was a moment of shocked silence.
    “Are you all right, Mum?” Will asked, seeing his mother reel back.
    Her fists were clenched, and she’d turned quite pale. “Too many people,” she whispered. “I can feel their hate and their fear. It’s worse than the last time we were here.” She was backing toward the center of the floor. “It’s too much to take . . . and a man has just come up in the elevator.”
    Somebody cleared their throat, and they all turned to find an elderly man with a handlebar mustache, dressed in blue overalls, standing there. He began to read from a card. “The dragon sleeps . . .”
    “Oh, don’t bother with that claptrap,” Parry said, striding forward and grasping the man’s hand firmly. “Sergeant Finch’s cousin, I presume.”
    The old man nodded, then there was a small high-pitched noise. He patted his ear and it stopped. “Hearing aid’s acting up,” he explained.