Tunnels 06 - Terminal

re-checked the cross-country route they were intending to take to Parry’s estate in Scotland. In normal circumstances they would have naturally gravitated towards London, as it would have been a good place to try to pick up on Parry’s whereabouts. But if things were as bad down south as the portly man and the villagers had made out, it wasn’t somewhere that Jiggs wanted to tangle with, not with Drake in his condition. So they’d decided that Parry’s estate was the next best place to head for; even if Parry wasn’t there, therewas likely to be a satphone or two hidden away in the house.
    Jiggs was just putting the map away when he heard a faint clicking from close by. ‘Hello, what’s that?’ he asked, frowning. He listened intently, and when it came again a few seconds later he realised that it must be coming from the Bergen roped to the back of his horse.
    As Drake shuffled back he found Jiggs between the horses, his Bergen at his feet, staring at a tracker.
    ‘This just woke up,’ Jiggs said, holding it up so Drake could see the needle, which was showing tiny fluctuations at the lower end of the scale and giving off the occasional rash of clicks, like a drowsy cricket.
    ‘What’s the direction of the signal?’ Drake asked weakly. ‘It’s probably an echo from one of the subterranean beacons.’
    ‘That’s the surprising thing. I don’t think it is,’ Jiggs replied as, holding the tracker in front of him, he turned ninety degrees to the direction they’d just come. ‘In fact, it’s originating from the south.’
    ‘The south? Drake repeated.
    Jiggs moved the tracker in small increments until the signal was at its strongest and making a regular ticking sound, with the needle holding remarkably steady. ‘No question about the direction. And from the bearing, I’d put my money on London as the source.’
    ‘Well, what do you know?’ Drake said, visibly perking up. ‘But the only reason anyone would activate a beacon here on the surface is if they wanted to attract attention … ours, because who else is likely to have the technology to spot a VLF signal, or even be on the lookout for transmissions at that end of the scale?’
    ‘And none of the beacons were left on the surface, werethey? They were all taken down to the inner world. So how did this one find its way back?’ Jiggs said, anticipating the second point Drake was about to make.
    ‘Eddie and I were able to locate and rescue Chester from Martha because of his beacon, but it’s not him this time. So it has to be someone from our team,’ Drake concluded. ‘Someone’s made it home again, even after the nukes went off.’
    ‘Will?’ Jiggs suggested.
    Drake shrugged. ‘Or Elliott or Sweeney – or, if our mission went completely pear-shaped, it could even be the Styx?’ he said, heaving himself up onto his horse. ‘There’s only one way to find out. We’re going to London.’
    ‘Do you really feel up to it?’ Jiggs asked. ‘It would be wiser to stick to the original plan and head for your father’s house.’
    ‘Not on your nelly,’ Drake replied. He reached forward to stroke the mane of his horse. ‘I just wish this thing came with better suspension.’

    ‘So tell me,’ Will whispered, ‘we’ve now jumped a total of four fences and gone through three back gardens, but where are we heading? Do you actually know?’
    Since they’d left David’s house, Elliott had been leading them uphill through his neighbours’ gardens to avoid using the road. Without any hesitation, she now raised her arm and pointed. ‘Yes, that way.’
    ‘Any particular reason you want to go that way? Because we’re not too safe out here, you know.’
    Elliott began to answer, but he gently placed a finger on her lips. ‘Don’t worry – you don’t need to answer me. Remember I’m only a lowly human, here to do your bidding.’
    ‘Oh, do shut up, Will,’ she said, as she ducked away from his hand, but she was smiling.
    She led the way, and he followed without question as they clambered over the next fence, landing silently on the other side.
    This house was massive, even compared to David’s, but Will noticed something as he studied it through his lens. ‘Old people’s’ home,’ he remarked, as he saw a single Zimmer frame on the terrace. It was in front of the conservatory that ran across the rear of the property, and in which many armchairs were facing the garden.
    ‘We had quite a few of these in Highfield for the