THE LONDONERS: 1. The Secret Underground City – Opening Chapters

1

NOTHING IS COMPLETELY SECURE

LONDON, ENGLAND, MID-JUNE. An unexpected morning storm of titanic proportions pulverised the city. Gales, rain, lightning and thunder, the black storm had it all. The rain fell like a never-ending sea. Heavy flash flooding started to swamp the whole of the London area. Shallow rivers of rainwater flooded the roads along the banks of the River Thames all the way to its estuary.

In South Ockendon, north of the Dartford Tunnel and not too far from the Thames Estuary, four children were sheltering indoors from the storm. Catherine, Sean and Libby were siblings and Kevin was their cousin. They were all Campbells and often found themselves in many exciting adventures. They called themselves the Londoners—and so did everyone else.

Right now, the adventurous four were in Catherine, Sean and Libby’s living room waiting for the storm to pass so they could go off to visit their Auntie Julie south of the River Thames in Dartford. However, they had no idea the aftermath of the storm would provide them with yet another exciting adventure, perhaps the most exciting of their lives.

“Silly old storm,” said Libby. She was the youngest of the children at nine years old and busy attempting to complete a jigsaw of the Houses of Parliament on the living room carpet. It was a difficult puzzle for someone of her age, but thankfully her eleven-year-old brother Sean was helping her.

“At least it gives us a chance to do this jigsaw puzzle,” said Sean.

“Yeah, well, the storm will soon pass over as violent and black as it is,” said Kevin, who was sitting on an armchair watching the BBC news channel. He was also eleven years old, but six months older than his cousin Sean.

“And then we can cycle off and visit Auntie Julie,” said Catherine, dumping herself on the settee. She looked a picture of impatience with her tightly folded arms and her wildly tapping foot. She was the oldest of the Londoners at twelve years old.

Sean reached out and placed his hand on Libby’s wrist, and said, “No, I don’t think that’s the right piece—‍”

A blinding flash of sheet lightning lit up the sky outside the living room window, forcing all the children to cover their eyes.

“Wow, did you see that?” said Libby, rubbing her eyes.

“Duh! How couldn’t we?” said Kevin, squinting at the TV, as his eyes started to properly refocus.

“She was just saying,” said Catherine. “Anyway, why are you watching the news?”

“It’s covering the storm.”

“Really? It must be quite a storm then.” Catherine relaxed back into the settee.

Boom! An awesome roll of the lightning’s thunder shook the house.

“Blimey!” said Sean, as the roll of thunder raced away. He couldn’t but help see Libby’s hands shake and her eyes light up with fear. “Don’t worry, Libby, it’s only noise.”

“I know,” said Libby with a nervous giggle. “It’s just I thought for a moment the house was going to fall down.”

“Maybe if there was an earthquake, but not from thunder and lightning,” said Catherine.

“I hope Courtney’s not caught out in that storm,” said Sean. “She never was the world’s greatest swimmer.” Courtney was Catherine, Sean and Libby’s older sister—at sixteen, she was too old to be a member of the Londoners.

“She’s okay,” said Catherine. “I just got a text from her. She’s in a coffee shop in Convent Garden. I think she’s singing there later tonight. She texted stuff about her arrangements with the manager of the shop.”

“Especially how much she’ll get paid!” added Sean, rubbing his forefinger and thumb in a show-me-the-money gesture.

“Where’s Convent Garden?” asked Libby.

“It’s in the City of London,” said Kevin.

“I got a text from Dad too,” said Catherine.

“And?” asked Sean.

“He’s in his office trying to mend Barry’s silly laptop computer again.”

“Why doesn’t Barry just get a new laptop?” said Libby. “He’s spending half his life trying to get Dad to fix his out-of-date laptop. His laptop’s operating system is older than I am! It’s ridiculous!”

“That’s the wonder of life,” said Catherine.

“Even his viruses have viruses,” said Sean.

“He should get the new operating system,” said Kevin. “It’s due for release next month.”

“What, Windows Infinity?” said Sean.

“Yeah,” said Kevin. “The programmers claim the Windows Infinity operating system protects a computing device from every possible virus.”

Catherine leaned forwards on the settee. “I’m sorry, but that’s just a sales pitch. Dad says nothing can ever be totally secure. Dad says the day someone invents a computer system that can protect itself from all viruses, is the day it will become a virus itself!”

“Huh, how can that be?” said Sean.

“It’s a thing called a paradox,” said Catherine. “But the point is: nothing can be made completely secure.”

Kevin pointed at the television. “Look, they’ve raised the Thames Barrier! It’s an awesome piece of flood prevention technology.”

“Yeah, but the reports are saying there will still be some serious flooding,” said Sean.

“Of course there will be,” said Catherine. “No system can ever be completely secure!” She turned to Sean. “Now do you see?”

“Yeah, I’ve got it now.” Sean nodded slowly. “Nothing can be immune from viruses, digital or real. And real things can’t be immune from the ravages of nature.”

“Exactly,” said Catherine.

“Seems strange to raise the barrier when the storm is due to come to an end as quickly as it began,” said Kevin. “I suppose it’s because of the associated high tide. Flash flooding, that’s what it is.”

Catherine, Sean and Libby’s mother came into the room from the kitchen. She had a huge blond afro with pieces of silver foil stuck all over her hair. Mrs Tuck, the mobile hairdresser had been cutting her hair.

“I think the storm’s ending,” she said. “It’s already stopped raining … and look! The sun’s coming out.”

“Mum, what has Mrs Tuck done to your hair?” asked Libby, lifting her hand up to her mouth and trying not to laugh, but failing miserably.

“I’ve had a St Paul’s Cathedral Dome perm. It needs ultra-white highlights to be complete. It’s not quite finished yet, so stop laughing behind your hands, the lot of you!”

“‘St Paul’s Cathedral Dome’? But, Mum!” protested Catherine, flabbergasted, looking askance at the other three children.

“Look, it’s the latest fashion, so there!”

“It’s the surprise, Mum,” said Sean. “I thought you had been hit by the lightning.”

Sean’s mother opened her eyes wide and wagged her finger at him. “Don’t be cheeky, young man.”

She strolled carefully over to the window, careful not to disturb her hair. This caused more laughter. “Yes,” she said, ignoring the laughter, “the storm’s stopped as quickly as it started. The kitchen radio said it would. I’m pretty sure there’ll be no more rain today, so you lot better get off to see Auntie Julie. Make sure you keep together. Your lunch packs are ready in the kitchen in case you get hungry on the journey.”

“Come on, let’s get ready to rumble!” said Catherine.

The children leapt into action. Kevin turned off the television. Sean and Libby quickly put away the jigsaw puzzle. And off the Londoners rushed out of the living room to prepare for their journey south of the River Thames to visit their Auntie Julie who lived in Dartford.

A quarter of an hour later, the Londoners were on their bikes charging south towards the free Shuttle Service, a service that would take them and their bikes south across the River Thames over the Queen Elizabeth II Bridge.

As they approached the Ockendon Academy school on Erriff Drive, a male and a female teacher and a schoolboy stood outside the school gates.

“Oh my goodness!” said the music teacher, Mr Tippet, as he spied the approaching cycling children. He started singing a refrain from a famous Scottish song in a Scottish accent:

 

The Campbells are coming! Ho-ro, ho-ro!

The Campbells are coming! Ho-ro, ho-ro!

 

“Bats out of Hell, sir,” said Subgee Chalmer.

The religious studies teacher, Mrs Thompson, said, “More like the Four Horses of the Apocalypse on an End Days mission.”

“Did you know, miss,” said Subgee, “when they go off adventuring as a foursome, they call themselves the Londoners?”

“Of course. Their reputations precede them.” Mrs Thompson looked down her nose at Subgee.

“Oh, I didn’t think teachers would know things like that.”

Mr Tippet said, “Teachers know more than you pupils think we do. Oh yes, indeed, the Londoners’ adventures are quite legendry. Why, they’re already recognised on the international stage.”

“They are?” Wide-eyed Subgee looked surprised.

Eyes as bright as diamonds, their bikes gleaming under the clearing clouds of the recent storm, the Londoners screamed an enthusiastic stream of words as they swept past their captive audience.

Away they whooshed with their laughter trailing behind them.

Fifteen minutes later, when they got to the Queen Elizabeth II Bridge Shuttle Service Station, a note hung on the closed gate:

 

Dartford Crossing Important Notice!

 

The Queen Elizabeth II Bridge is closed until further notice due to recent high winds.

 

The Dartford Tunnel is closed until further notice due to flash flooding.

 

As a consequence, the Shuttle Service for cyclists will not be operating until further notice.

 

“Uh-oh,” said Libby. “What are we going to do?”

“We’ll have to go home,” said Sean.

“No way,” said Catherine. “We’re the Londoners and we’re going to visit Auntie Julie, and that’s that.” She dusted off her hands emphatically.

“But how?” asked Kevin.

“Well, remember the lesson we’ve all learned today, that no system can be completely secure?”

“Yes. And?”

“We take the tunnel!”

“But there’s flooding,” said Libby. “The notice says the Shuttle Service is not operating. And the cars don’t go southwards in the tunnel. Are you just being silly?”

“It’s an easy play,” insisted Catherine. “We can cycle to the Dartford Tunnel’s Shuttle Service Station. Lock our bikes up outside the gate if it’s closed. Then …” she paused for effect “… we can take the tunnel by foot! You’ve seen the tunnel workers using the service walkways to the sides of the tunnel, haven’t you? The walkways are higher than the road, aren’t they? Remember, the tunnel will be closed, so I bet there will be no one in it. And even if we get caught, we can just say we’ve turned back and we live on the Dartford side. They can’t send us to jail, can they! As I said, it’s an easy play.”

“Catherine’s right,” said Kevin. “And I can’t see the tunnel being so flooded that we can’t cross through it on the service walkways.”

“You’re the youngest, Libby,” said Catherine. “Are you up for it, because if you’re not, we can easily all go back home?”

“I’m definitely up for it,” replied Libby, instantly. “Lead the way!”

As the foursome charged off on their bikes, the thrill of adventure was once more coursing through their veins. The Londoners were back in business!

More than they could ever know!

2

THE TUNNEL BENEATH THE TUNNEL

WHEN THE CHILDREN reached the Dartford Tunnel’s Shuttle Service Station, it was all locked up with the same Dartford Crossing warning of closure notice they had seen at the other Shuttle Service Station. So they locked up their bikes against the fence beside the gate and headed off on foot towards the tunnel.

“There it is!” said Catherine, pointing in the distance.

“How far away is it?” asked Sean.

“I’d say about 1000 yards.”

“I hope we don’t get caught before we even get inside the tunnel.”

“As long as we approach along the side banking and keep off the road, we’ll avoid being seen on any highway transport security cameras. At least until we approach the tunnel’s exit point.”

Ten minutes later …

“We’re almost there,” said Kevin. “Strange, there’s no traffic on the main exit road but I can’t see any evidence of flooding.”

“That’ll be because the flood water would have flowed down into the tunnel,” said Catherine. “I reckon the middle of the tunnel is still flooded and the engineers are waiting for the water pumps to drain the rainwater off.”

“Look!” said Sean, pointing down at some barriers just outside the tunnel. “If we sneak inside the tunnel, ducking down behind those barriers, we’ll avoid the surveilling eyes of the security cameras watching the tunnel exit.”

The children carefully scampered down some banking towards the tunnel’s exit. Catherine was first in a chain of the four Londoners to duck down and start inching her way towards the tunnel.

After a few minutes, she stopped abruptly.

“Quick, get back a few feet!” she said in an urgent whisper.

“What is it?” whispered Libby, who was right behind her, and quickly shuffling backwards.

“There’s a man guarding the tunnel’s exit point,” warned Catherine. “See, he’s sitting inside that booth. He’s wearing a soldier’s uniform. Three stripes. He’s a sergeant.”

“That goes to show how important this tunnel is,” said Kevin. “The more important the place, the more important the guard!”

“Fortunately,” said Catherine, “we can sneak past him if we keep ducked down low and keep as quiet as scurrying church mice. Does everyone understand?”

The others nodded.

The Londoners once again sneaked towards the tunnel, using the barriers as cover from any outside security cameras surveying the tunnel’s exit. Like a gang of huge rats, they scampered silently past the tunnel’s exit point guarding booth, keeping well beneath any booth windows.

The path they took led them directly to the service walkway, which sometimes diverted from the side of the road to disappear behind sections of the tunnel wall.

After about thirty yards of speedily shuffling along, they took a rest while the walkway was behind a section of tunnel wall.

“So far, so good,” said Catherine triumphantly. “Knowing that nothing can be completely secure is helping us succeed.”

“It’s getting awfully dark,” said Libby, lowering her slightly trembling voice to a whisper. “I don’t think there are any lights on in the tunnel. It’s pitch-black farther down the tunnel.”

Kevin whipped out his mobile phone. “Don’t worry, Libby. We can use our mobile phones as torches, see?” Kevin swiped the surface of his mobile’s screen and pressed on his Torch App. A soft beam of light fired out of the top edging of his mobile. He held it downwards where the sheltered walkway was already a murky dark grey. “It’s a Torch App. Uses LEDs. It might not look too bright, but in the pitch-black it will be more than enough.”

“Oh, I’ve got that app too,” said Catherine, whipping out her mobile and switching on her Torch App.

“And me,” added Sean, also whipping out his mobile and switching on his Torch App.

“I don’t have a mobile yet,” said Libby, looking forlorn, unhappy to be missing out on having a mobile.

“You’ll be all right, Libby, because you’ll be behind me,” said Catherine. “You can easily follow my torchlight. And Sean and Kevin will be lighting up the path right behind you.”

“We’re lucky the lights aren’t working, Libby,” said Kevin.

“Why?”

“Because no one will see us as long as we keep our lights firmly pointed directly down on the path. Otherwise the opposite will be true.”

“Yeah,” said Sean, “and if there are any tunnel workers or others, we’ll see them in the distance because they’ll be using powerful torches and not trying to remain unseen.”

“Looks like our lucky day—so far …” said Catherine. “Come on, let’s get going. Only use the mobiles when it gets too dark to see.”

Eventually, the Londoners found themselves in the pitch-blackness of the tunnel.

“Don’t forget to keep your mobile torchlight pointing down to the floor of the walkway!” reminded Catherine.

“We won’t!” said Kevin, who was right at the back of the foursome.

“Watch out, the walkway’s going behind the tunnel wall again!” said Catherine.

This time, the walkway diverged a long way behind the wall, and the children found themselves in a huge, spacious area. There were no lights, and Catherine assured them their mobile torchlight could not be seen this far behind the tunnel wall. So the Londoners played their beams of light all over the area.

“This is a big space,” said Catherine.

“There are even some doors over there,” said Kevin, directing his torchlight at maximum strength over to some doors.

“Perhaps this is where they bring people if there’s a fire or a crash or something,” said Catherine.

“Let’s see if any of the doors are open,” said Kevin. “We might as well do a little exploring while we’re down here.”

“Okay, but let’s make it quick,” said Catherine. “The longer we stay down here, the more likely we are to get caught.”

The first door they came to opened easily enough. Inside the door was a large room with tables and seating.

The second door they tried opened up into a smaller room full of maintenance equipment.

“Okay, let’s just try one more door,” said Catherine.

The third door they tried opened up into a large cleaners’ room.

There were, of course, no working lights …

However, at the back of the room, a large fissure in the floor attracted the attention of the Londoners …

Strong light fired up out of it, strong enough to light up the room.

“Careful, now!” warned Catherine, as the children all cautiously approached the fissure. “I think this large crack has been opened up by the flooding. Probably caused by a landslip somewhere nearby.”

“But how come there’s light coming out of it?” asked Libby.

“Maybe some battery-operated lights have been put down there by tunnel maintenance workers,” said Kevin.

“Well, we’ll soon find out,” said Catherine. “Everyone get down on their bellies. We don’t want to take any risks.”

The children crawled the last few feet and allowed their heads to peep over the edge of the fissure. Down they peered …

They didn’t have to peer down far. Just ten feet beneath them was the floor of another tunnel.

“It’s another tunnel!” said Sean. “The walls and floor are all coloured a pale yellow.”

“But it’s not a road tunnel,” said Kevin. “It’s too small.”

“Not small enough for the four of us to explore!” said Catherine.

“Huh?” said Sean. “A minute ago, you were telling us to make quick work of our exploring.”

“This is different!” insisted Catherine. “Look closely at the tunnel’s walls? See that strange writing? I might not be an expert of Archaeology, but it’s not of our age. It’s obviously an ancient language.”

Sean looked at Catherine. “Even before the Egyptian language?”

“I reckon so, yes.”

“But it doesn’t look in old condition,” said Libby. “The whole of the tunnel as far as I can see looks brand new.”

“Probably because it has lain under the ground for thousands of years, perfectly sealed from the ravages of Time,” suggested Catherine.

“Yeah, or maybe it was built recently,” said Sean. “Perhaps there’s just a small section of it. I reckon some film production team has constructed this area for maybe a science fiction film.”

Libby said, “I think the tunnel must be at least twenty yards, or so, long, otherwise where would the light be coming from?”

“Hey, listen up, I’ve thought of an idea!” said Sean. “I could attach my mobile to my backpack and start up its video camera. Then if I lower the backpack down the crack a foot or two, we’ll be able to get a better view of the tunnel.”

“Great idea, Sean!” said Catherine. “Do it!”

The children crawled back away from the fissure. Kevin helped Sean attach his mobile to the bottom of his backpack. Then Sean started the video camera and lowered his backpack into the fissure. He slowly spun the backpack around and then lifted it out of the fissure.

The children gathered around Sean’s mobile screen and watched the video recording.

“It’s a long tunnel!” said Catherine. “It’s sloping gently downwards and I can’t see the end of it.”

“Where’s the light coming from though?” asked Libby. “I can’t see any lights. Can you?”

“We’ll have to explore the tunnel—at least for ten minutes. We can take videos of it,” said Catherine.

“We’ve already taken one,” pointed out Kevin.

“Yes, but we need to take many more—and put ourselves in the videos. We’re talking viral video territory. We could seriously increase our fame!”

“Yeah, well, all this exploring is in our blood!” said Kevin.

“What d’you mean?” asked Libby, pulling at Kevin’s sleeve.

“Our great-granddad, Joseph Campbell, was a famous explorer. He found a hidden tribe in the subterranean potholes of the Amazonian rainforests. But no one has found them since! All the world has now are his samples of their DNA and some photos of them. They had 25% Neanderthal DNA, which was a shocking discovery.”

“You’re kidding, right?” asked Sean.

“Nope. Look it up. Joseph Campbell, the famous explorer. He was our great-granddad.”

“Our dad never told us about him before,” said Sean.

“Well, my dad told me, lots of times.” Kevin smiled.

“You’re not trying to say the tunnel will lead to the hidden tribe, are you?” asked Libby, tugging on Kevin’s sleeve once again.

“No. I’m just pointing out that this sort of exploring is in our family history. I think we owe it to ourselves and our family history to explore the tunnel—no matter what the risks. We should see where the tunnel takes us.”

“What’s life for if you don’t take advantage of opportunities like this?” said Catherine.

Sean decided to ask a practical question. “How do we get down into the tunnel, and how will we get back out if it leads to a dead end?”

“There’s a ladder over there!” said Libby, pointing to a ladder tucked away between two rows of shelving.

The children, encouraged by their family history, decided to ignore the risk of the fissure crumbling or widening and walked up to its edge. Kevin had the ladder, which was aluminium. He opened it up to its full length and lowered it to the tunnel’s floor. Only a foot of the ladder poked above the edge of the fissure, but a foot was enough.

“I’ll go first,” said Kevin, “so I can hold the ladder steady at the bottom.” Before anyone could even remind him to be careful, Kevin was on the ladder and scampering down it.

Seconds later …

“I’m holding the ladder steady!” he cried up to the others.

“Sean, you go next!” commanded Catherine. “I want you to help Kevin hold the ladder steady for Libby. I’m going last.”

Within a few minutes, all four children had safely descended the ladder and were starting to take a closer look at the tunnel. One side was a dead end, but the other sloped gradually down off into the distance.

“I still can’t see where the light is coming from,” said Catherine.

Kevin started feeling the pale yellow-coloured walls of the tunnel with his fingertips. “I don’t know what sort of material this tunnel is made of … It’s like nothing I’ve seen before.”

The other children started to feel the walls.

“It’s sort of like a combination of metal, stone and plastic,” said Sean.

Libby suddenly screamed, causing the others to open their eyes wide in alarm. She was staring befuddled at a section of the wall.

“What’s the matter, Libby?” said Catherine, moving to her side. Kevin and Sean rushed to her side too.

“See, look!” said Libby, still looking intently at the wall. “The strange writing. It’s not so strange anymore!”

 

3

THE POINT OF NO RETURN

“BLOOMIN’ ADA!” said a stunned Sean.

“The writing’s in English!” said an equally stunned Kevin.

“It turned into English before my very eyes!” said Libby.

“Call me a plonker,” said Sean, “but there’s no technology that can do that where we come from.”

“There isn’t any technology anywhere that we know of that can do anything anywhere near like that!” insisted Catherine.

“Is it magic?” asked Libby.

“Not like in Harry Potter books,” said Catherine. “Someone once said that magic is just hiding a technology or a science we’ve yet to understand.”

“Yeah,” agreed Sean. “There’s bound to be an explanation.”

“True,” said Catherine, looking thoughtful, “but whatever explains this ‘magic’, it isn’t anything to do with the Humanity we know of.”

“Call me—” started to say Sean, when he was interrupted by Catherine:

“Make it original this time!” insisted Catherine. She and the others knew he was going to say, “Call me a plonker, but …” He was always saying it.

Sean stroked his chin deep in thought, then gave a secretive victorious smile, and said, “Call me Ishmael, but that strange writing—I’ll bet it was alien writing. I bet the technology that transformed it into English was alien technology.”

“I think as ridiculous as it sounds, you might be right,” said Catherine. “I can’t think of another explanation. By the way, I liked your Moby Dick reference. The more I think about it, the cleverer it sounds.”

“But I don’t get it?” said a confused Libby.

“It’s silly,” said Kevin. “Just forget about it, Libby. I’m sure he’ll never use such a daft joke again.”

Just then, the ground above them shook, even though the tunnel remained perfectly still. A few loose chunks of concrete from the edge of the fissure fell down, some of them bouncing off the ladder’s rungs.

“Quick!” shouted Catherine. “Move down the tunnel, I think the crack is closing up!”

Sure enough, after they had bundled forwards just twenty yards, the fissure closed up. There was a small pile of concrete pieces on the tunnel floor beneath where the fissure had been; however, the tunnel remained undamaged.

“That’s torn it!” said Kevin. “We’ve got no choice now, but to explore the tunnel.”

“Don’t worry, Libby,” assured Catherine, “we’ll find our way out. I mean, the tunnel doesn’t seem as if it can be damaged, and it must lead somewhere.”

“Perhaps we should start off our exploration by actually reading the writing,” said Kevin.

The children walked back to the writing and started to read:

 

Main Exit To Planet Surface!

Please remember on return to use the decontamination brick.

All specimen bags and flasks must be sealed!

Do not forget your key or you will have to undergo testing from the Vertos—an unpleasant experience, even for Farlan scientists!

The city awaits your successful return.

 

“Hmm …” murmured Catherine, deep in thought. “I have a feeling aliens might well be involved. I think I know a bit about what’s happened. I think the tunnel is near enough indestructible. This is obviously one end of the tunnel. That’s why the crack occurred here and how we were able to enter. The crack occurred at the weakest point. The other end of the tunnel must exit to a waiting city.”

“But we’d know if there was a city under London, surely,” said Kevin.

“I doubt we’d know about a city that probably has the means to hide itself with incredible technology,” replied Catherine. “I reckon this tunnel is incredibly ancient. Not just thousands of years old, but maybe even millions of years old. I hope the city is still there, but perhaps it might have been intentionally destroyed. I have a feeling this tunnel was abandoned sometime in the past.”

“But why?” asked Sean.

“I’ve no idea.”

“I don’t get it,” said Libby. “Remember, I’m only nine. Before hearing anymore of this nonsense or going any farther, I’m having a bar of chocolate.”

Before anyone could warn her not to, Libby took off her rucksack and sat on a large blue-coloured brick. No sooner had she done this than a cylinder of blue swirling energy formed around her and a horizontal red disk of light whooshed up and down the cylinder. Then the cylinder faded away.

“Libby!” said Sean, making his way towards her as she got off the large blue brick.

“Stop, Sean!” said Catherine, halting Sean in his tracks. “Libby, do you feel all right?”

“I feel more than all right. I’ve never felt better. I feel like I’ve just had the best bath of my life. And you know how I always felt as if my hair had head lice in it—even though Mum got rid of it? Well, that feeling has gone. I don’t feel any itchiness.”

“Roll up your left sleeve and look at your elbow!” commanded Catherine.

Libby dutifully obeyed her older sister. “Oh!” she said. “My scab has gone!”

“I think that huge blue brick you’re sitting on is the decontamination brick mentioned in the writing. Come here, please.”

Libby came up to Catherine and looked up at her.

“Amazing!” said Catherine.

“What’s amazing?”

“Every bruise, spot and cut you had is gone.”

“Wow!” put in Sean. “Now that’s what I call decontamination! And I’m next!” Sean raced to the huge blue brick and sat on it with great anticipation. Within seconds, he was blue-cylindered, red-pulsed and decontaminated.

He jumped up, grinning, and said, “How do I look?”

No one answered him because they didn’t want to encourage him any further.

“One for all, and all for one, and all that palaver,” said Kevin, as he and Catherine decided to take the decontamination process.

Afterwards …

“Well,” said Catherine, “we’ve got rid of our badges of honour, now let’s see if we can find our way out of this tunnel and avoid any new ones.”

The tunnel was longer than they could ever have expected. There seemed to be no end to it. After an hour, they stopped for a rest.

However, Libby started to practise her Irish dancing.

“What’s this?” said Sean, looking curiously at Libby. “Don’t you want a rest?”

“I’ve got to practise my Irish dancing. I’ve got a competition at the end of the month.” said Libby, all the while gleefully Irish dancing. Her legs pumping up and down, her arms as rigid as a statue’s, held down straight by her sides.

“But this is no time to be practising your dancing, surely?” questioned Kevin. “We’re stuck down this tunnel, and if we don’t find a way out …!”

“But I’ve gotta practise, see,” started to explain Libby. “I get angry if I lose at competitions. So the only way to not get angry is to win. And I’ll never win if I don’t practise.” Libby then executed a perfect scissors movement while briefly placing her hands on her hips before returning them, straightened, back down to her sides. Still, she kept dancing like a human jackhammer. “I only won 3rd reel, 4th hop jig and 3rd light jig, then 4th premier last week. I’ve gotta do way better than that.”

“I used to get angry when I lost, too,” said Catherine. “But I found another way to beat my anger. A more sensible way.”

“What way?” said a heavily breathing Libby between smiles as she continued her dancing.

“I learned how to lose!”

“She’s right, Libby,” said Sean. “You can’t always win, so you better learn how to lose.”

Libby’s eyebrows started to curl in a peculiar way, as if she was considering Sean’s words. Moments later, her dancing came to an abrupt stop, and she took some deep breaths. She sat herself on the tunnel floor with her back against the wall. “Whatever,” she murmured.

“Make sure no one scoffs their food and drink,” said Catherine. “We don’t know how long it will be before we can find any more food and drink.”

Libby was about to start on a packet of crisps, despite Catherine’s warning.

“Hey, I’m serious!” said Catherine to Libby.

Libby gave Catherine a grumpy look, but put her crisps away.

After a few minutes’ rest, the children set off along the gently downward sloping tunnel.

Minutes later …

“Look!” cried out Sean, pointing down the descending tunnel.

“What is it?” asked Catherine.

“There’s an old man down the tunnel!”

“Where?” asked Libby.

“There!” Sean pointed more determinedly.

The old man was difficult to see because he was a long way down the tunnel and he had fair hair and wore pale yellow robes the colour of the tunnel floor and walls. He lifted his hand and waved at the Londoners. Ten yards later, they got a better look at him.

“Oh my god!” said Catherine. “What’s an old dosser like that doing down here?”

“He must have decided to explore the tunnel, having found the crack in the room, just as we did,” said Kevin.

“Well, we’ll soon find out,” said Catherine. “I can’t see him being able to harm the four of us. But just the same, we better be on our guard. He could be anybody!”

 

4

THE GUARDIAN OF THE TUNNEL

“CAREFUL NOW,” said Catherine, as the children approached the strangely dressed old man.

“Good morning,” said the old man with a smile. “It’s a long time since anyone has used this tunnel.”

“Yeah,” said Catherine. “We were thinking the same thing.”

Libby looked the strange man’s robes up and down. “Are you from the Tank hill Road or something?”

“She’s only joking,” said Sean, quickly. “She’s my younger sister, see.”

“I am not from the Tank Hill Road. I am from here in the Farlan Tunnel.” The man smiled again.

“Didn’t you fall through the big crack in the cleaners’ room earlier today?” asked Libby. Her eyebrows were tightly drawn together as if they were two hairy caterpillars engaged in a head-butting contest. She seemed to find the man interesting, but totally befuddling.

“No, I did not. I’ve been living in this tunnel well before this morning.”

“How much longer before this morning?” asked Kevin.

“In Earth years, I’d say about three-hundred million.” The man said casually, as if he was not saying anything unusual.

“He’s from the Tank Hill Road,” whispered Libby to Catherine. “He’s a nutter.”

“Shh!” whispered Catherine. “His robes are the exact same colour as the tunnel floor and walls. Maybe he’s telling the truth.”

“I’m afraid I can hear all your whispering. As you humans say: ‘walls have ears’, and in the case of this tunnel, it’s true! I am the Guardian of the Tunnel—and I am, as well as being myself, the tunnel as well.”

“If you’ve been down here for three-hundred million years, how come you look like a human?” questioned Catherine. “There weren’t any humans three-hundred million years ago. We only evolved about a million years ago. I learnt that at my school.”

Sean added his support. “Yeah, and how can you be the tunnel as well? That’s nuts, mister.”

“You are right that I cannot be human. I am a creature made of Dark Matter. I can take any form. My mind is in the body you see before you, but the tunnel is also part of my body.”

“You mean the sort of Dark Matter that’s in outer space?” Sean’s eyebrows furrowed momentarily as he eyed the old man with great curiosity.

“You are almost correct. But to be honest with you, Dark Matter is everywhere. Usually it cannot be seen as it does not interact with ordinary matter. But I am a Dark Matter creature that can interact with ordinary matter using the power of my thoughts.”

“How can we be expected to believe that?” asked Kevin, “I reckon you’re making up a story.”

“I could change my appearance into anything you like. Then at least you will believe a lot of what I’m saying.”

“This should be fun!” said Kevin. From his sarcastic tone, and his slowly spreading grin, he made it clear he thought the man was a nutjob. “We’ve all heard of stranger danger, but this is a case of stranger stranger!” Kevin laughed.

“Go on then,” said Catherine, humouring the man with a smile a granny would give to a two-year-old.

“What would you like me to change into?”

“Can you change into a small caravan please?” said Libby.

Kevin and Sean couldn’t stop themselves laughing at Libby’s request. But they came to an instant stop when—

The old man popped out of existence before the children’s eyes and a small caravan appeared in his place.

The Londoners were stunned into silence.

A voice sounded from the caravan. “Do you believe me now?” It was the man’s voice.

“How can we not?” said Catherine. “You can change back into a man again now. We can’t be expected to talk to a caravan, can we?”

The caravan popped into nothingness and the man reappeared.

“All done,” he said, smiling and rubbing his hands together.

Kevin said, “Well, as I said before, the more important the place, the more important the guard!”

“And in this case, the place is the guard,” said Sean.

“In those three-hundred million years, you’ve never left the tunnel?” asked Catherine.

“Never.”

“So how come you can speak English?” asked Catherine.

“I learned to speak English and learned all about Humanity from electromagnetic waves. Mainly from your radio and television broadcasts. However, I have recently improved my knowledge from your Internet.”

“You have access to the Internet?”

“Oh yes. I have a facebook and twitter account, but no one will friend me.”

“Have you contacted the government?” asked Kevin.

“No. The tunnel is to be kept a secret from the surface of the planet. But I can tell you anything you ask because you have been decontaminated and are in the tunnel. My duty is to help you pass through the tunnel.”

Catherine stroked her chin, thinking. “So the city we read about, is it still there?”

“I don’t know?”

“Huh?” Catherine was intrigued.

“My duty is usually to guide any Farlan scientists who wish to travel from the Farlan City to the surface for specimen collections. But no Farlan scientists have used the tunnel for the last three-hundred million years. They only used it for seventy-five years after they had completed the construction of the city. I have seen no one since.”

“But why haven’t you gone and found out why?” asked Sean.

“The Farlans are my masters. I have been ordered to stay as the tunnel and its guardian. To disobey them would lead to my death. They are not cruel or evil; they just believe they are superior to us of the Wocheduna people. And they are superior to us. They are far more intelligent than us. They enslaved us for their use.”

“They must be incredibly clever to have enslaved you,” said Kevin.

“I sense they are about as clever as you are,” replied the old man. “They have greater technology only because they developed over millions of years.”

“But surely you’re highly intelligent, aren’t you?” asked Catherine.

“No. I’m not particularly clever. My nature allows me to do things without thought, in the same way you can move your fingers without thinking about it. My thinking skills are probably worse than yours.”

“You must be cleverer than me,” said Libby. “I’m only nine.”

“Well, you’ll soon find out I am not,” insisted the man. “But I have one thing that makes me seem cleverer than all of you.”

“What?” asked Catherine, giving the man a steady gaze.

“I have knowledge about the Farlans and their ways.”

“I presume you know all our names,” said Catherine. “Especially since your walls have been listening to us, probably since the moment we set foot in the tunnel?”

“Yes. You’re Catherine. Libby here is your younger sister. Sean is your younger brother. And that’s Kevin, your cousin.”

“So, do you have a name?”

“I’m the Guardian of the Tunnel. I have a Dark Matter name, but it would never make sense to you. Our names don’t have words to describe them.”

“Well, you’re here to help us, so we need you to have a name in the same way we have a name.”

“But how can I have a name if I don’t have a name?”

“We can just make one up and start calling you it,” said Catherine.

“Can you? Can you really?”

The children were beginning to see that the Dark Matter creature was, after all, not as clever as they had originally thought.

“You look a bit like the character Merlin in a film we saw,” said Kevin. “Maybe we should call you Merlin.”

“Actually, my appearance is based on three film characters I saw in your human films. Merlin is one of them. The others are Obi Wan-Kenobi and Gandalf.”

“Why did you choose these three wise men?” asked Sean.

“Because I know I am not particularly wise. I thought if I gave myself the appearance of three well-known wise characters, it might be of help to you.”

Catherine’s eyes widened, and she clicked her fingers. “I’ve got it! We can make a name up for you using the first letter of the three characters you based your appearance on—Mog!”

“‘Mog’?” The old man scrunched up his brow, looking quite confused. However, his brow slowly smoothed out. “Ah, I see. The letter M is from Merlin. The letter O is from Obi Wan-Kenobi. And the letter G is from Gandalf. That’s it, isn’t it?”

“You’ve got it, Mog!” said Sean.

“Oh, I see. Oh yes. ‘Mog’. Yes, I like being called a name like that. I feel as important as you miniature humans now!”

“You are as important as us,” insisted Catherine. “Now, can you please take us out of here? We should go and find this city and find out what happened to cause the Farlan scientists to stop using the tunnel. Maybe they left the planet and forgot to take you with them. We’ve got to find out. In any case, it’s our only hope of getting home.”

“In that case, if you remember the tunnel warning exit message, you’ll know you must have a tunnel key. The only way to obtain one is by undergoing testing from the Vertos.”

“Yeah, that was right,” said Libby. “I might be only nine, but I’ve got a great memory, see. And the message also said the testing was an unpleasant experience, even for Farlan scientists.”

Catherine said, “So we have to undergo testing from the Vertos—whoever they are. And I wonder how unpleasant it will be for us.”

“It will be a very unpleasant experience,” said Mog. “And you will all need to pass the test from the Vertos creatures to get your keys. They are Dark Matter creatures, but nothing like me.”

“How unpleasant will their test be?” asked Sean.

“Extremely unpleasant. The Vertos can read your minds. They take your worst fears or the worst situation you’ve ever experienced in your life and they use them to test you. But as long as you keep your head, there is always an answer to the test.”

“We can’t get harmed, can we?” asked Catherine.

“Only if you fail the test.”

“What happens then?” asked Sean.

“You die.”

“What!” said a surprised Kevin. “That’s a bit harsh. Are you serious?”

“I’m not clever enough to lie.”

“I’m scared,” said a shivery Libby, looking to Catherine for comfort and assurance.

“Well, you should go first then, Libby,” said Mog. “The Vertos will make the tests harder and harder as they test each successive person.”

“When will we meet with these Vertos creatures?” asked Catherine.

Mog looked over his shoulder. “Here they come now!”

In the distance, what looked like four huge purple balloons, were approaching Mog and the Londoners at great speed …