Blood Red City (44 page)

‘I thought your memory was infallible,' Guy said, turning the torch back on again.

‘Yes, well, I was hoping you'd forgotten that.' Leo smiled, despite the situation. ‘Though I should point out that there's quite a difference between memorising lines and remembering a route taken in haste underground and in the dark.'

‘So you've no idea?'

‘Well, I think it's that way.' He gestured to an opening a short distance ahead of them. ‘And I think we should hurry.'

‘Obviously.'

Leo caught Guy's arm. ‘No, I
really
think we should hurry.'

He moved Guy's arm so the torch was pointing down at the floor of the tunnel. Thick, dark liquid was running along the ground. It filled the narrow gaps between the paving slabs, then welled up again and spread across the width of the passageway. It lapped against their boots, licking over the toes and on down the tunnel.

*   *   *

The tunnels sloped down to the central chamber. He could feel them getting stronger inside his mind, probing, searching. He concentrated on what he wanted them to know – that he had the final key.

At some point, he wasn't sure exactly when, another figure joined him, walking just behind. It was a good job that Pentecross and Davenport had not come with him. There was no chance of retreat now, even if he decided to go no further. He could hear the massive creature snorting like the bull it partly was.

He could see two of them, vague shapes in someone else's memory, standing on a deserted shore as they waited for the Vril craft to surface. Striding out into the sea, to return with the two keys that had been recovered – one from Los Angeles, the other from London. Bringing them back here through the maze of tunnels that ran down to the cliffs below.

It was an effort not to think about what he was doing. What he was
really
doing. He concentrated on the axe-head in the rucksack, mentally emptying it of everything else he was carrying and leaving just the axe – the final key – nestling inside. If he felt his thoughts drifting to anything else, he turned them to Alina, to her smile, the sound of her voice. The single cracked photograph of her that he possessed …

Entering the central chamber, he saw the shattered stone where the Minotaurs had emerged from their long sleep, ready to awaken their masters. Think of the axe. And Alina. Nothing else.

A dark scuttling at the edge of the torch beam. A Vril edged into view – little more than an extension of the shadows at the edge of the chamber. But he could feel it inside his head, as if the grotesque creature's spindly tentacles were groping round inside his mind.

‘Where is it?'

The thoughts appeared as a mixture of images and feelings that he translated into words. It was easiest to speak the reply, and let them hear the thoughts behind the words.

‘I have it here.'

‘We thought you were lost to us.'

He made sure the torch beam fell across the bracelet on his wrist as he shrugged out of the rucksack. He didn't dare look inside, but felt for the axe-head, withdrawing it through the smallest possible opening.

‘Why do you think of fire?'

He froze, desperately emptying his mind of everything except the axe. ‘This world will burn,' he said.

‘Empires are forged in fire and war. What survives is the strongest, the most useful to us.'

He held up the axe in one hand, shining the torch at it with the other. The Vril crept forwards, into the light, as if drawn towards the object. Brittle gnarled legs reached upwards.

Hoffman glanced back towards the entrance, shining the torch at the dry, dusty ground. Nothing. He strained to hear, but the only sounds were the stentorian breathing of the Minotaur and the scraping of the Vril's limbs across the floor.

The other two keys were already in place, slotted into the sockets at the side of the circular hatchway. The Vril was squatting beside the empty third socket, pulsing with suppressed excitement.

‘Open it!'

*   *   *

Their feet splashed in the heavy liquid as Guy and Leo hurried along the tunnel. It was getting deeper by the moment, washing past them. They turned into a side tunnel, where the ground was dry. The fuel ran like a river down the main passageway.

‘We should think about this,' Leo said.

‘We should keep going,' Guy told him. ‘If we keep to the side tunnels we can move quicker.'

Leo was shaking his head. ‘No, the fuel's pouring in through the entranceway. Which is where we need to get back to.'

‘Obviously.'

‘So if we follow the fuel back, against the flow…'

‘We reach the entrance, where it's coming in.'

‘But you're right, we need to hurry,' Leo said. ‘The deeper and faster it gets, the harder it'll be to move against the flow. And if we're still down here when…' He didn't need to finish the thought.

‘Come on, then,' Guy said.

He stepped back into the main tunnel, hurrying forwards. The pressure of the liquid running past them was already making it difficult. In the torchlight, the whole floor was a heaving, black mass. A wave of darkness crashed towards them, slamming into Guy's legs. They were wading through it now, covered in oil. The smell was stifling, thick fumes making it difficult to breath.

‘It can't be far,' Leo gasped.

‘Let's hope not.'

As Guy pushed onwards, the torchlight danced across the surface of the liquid, up the walls, over the roof of the tunnel. At first he thought it was a reflection – the undulating liquid somehow mirrored above them. But then in a sudden stomach-dropping shock he realised what he could see. He stopped abruptly, Leo almost knocking into him as he waded alongside.

‘What?'

Guy said nothing, just shone the torch directly upwards – at the creatures clinging to the roof of the tunnel. Dark, bulbous shapes hanging above them, swaying and rippling as they moved. Thin, brittle limbs scraped across the stone, seeking out crevices and openings where they could cling on.

‘Are they watching us?' Leo said quietly.

‘Who knows.' Guy waded onwards. ‘It's like they're just waiting. They must know we're here.'

‘Maybe they don't like the fuel. It stinks to high Heaven.'

‘Not sure they have noses,' Guy said. ‘But you're right, they may just be keeping out of it.'

He shone the torch upwards again. It looked as if the roof further on was clear of the creatures. But as they waded forwards, there was a sudden splash in front of them. Drops of oil spattered across Guy's face. The light played across the walls as he wiped it away. Then back onto the surface of the flowing liquid – onto the dark creature rising up in front of them.

Leo had his pistol out, taking aim as the Vril moved rapidly towards them.

‘No!' Guy warned. ‘A shot might ignite the fuel.'

‘You got a better idea?' Leo demanded.

A serrated tentacle whipped past Guy's face as the creature reared up. He ducked out of the way just in time. There was a blur of movement beside him as Leo lunged forwards. A flurry of tentacles, oil splashing over Guy's face again. He blinked it away in time to see Leo's hand slash down at the bloated black shape. The tunnel echoed with the Vril's screeches. A spray of dark liquid coated the walls – not oil this time.

The oil bubbled as the creature thrashed and fought. But it was weakening, Leo waded away from it – a deflated dark mass floated past Guy, a limp tentacle brushing against him. He turned to watch it float away down the tunnel.

‘Pocket knife,' Leo explained breathlessly. ‘Not that I'd want to go through that again, so let's get moving.'

But Guy's attention was fixed on a point behind them, down the tunnel. Where a dark shape was emerging from a side tunnel – not the bulbous, scuttling form of a Vril, but something larger. A figure, silhouetted against the torchlight reflecting off the shiny surface of the oil. Huge, muscular, its torso covered in matted hair, and with the head of a massive bull. Steam erupted from its nostrils as it turned towards them. A bellow of rage echoed round the tunnel as the body of the Vril that Leo had killed floated past the Minotaur.

Then it turned towards Guy and Leo, forcing its way through the liquid towards them.

‘I'm guessing he's quicker than us,' Leo said.

‘And I'm guessing your pocket knife won't stop him,' Guy said. ‘Come on.'

They waded forwards as fast as they could. But the liquid was getting deeper – above their knees. Behind them, Guy could hear the splashing of the Minotaur as it waded towards them, closer with every massive step.

*   *   *

Hoffman could smell it now. He thought he could hear it, a low rumble in the distance. He concentrated on the axe – on how it felt in his hand, how it fitted into the socket.

As soon as he released the key, it dropped fully into place. With a scraping, rasping sound, the circular hatchway dropped down, and then slid aside. Hoffman's torch illuminated a dark chasm beneath. The light gave out before it reached the bottom.

There was another sound now. More scraping and sliding of stone on stone echoing up from deep below. The clattering of hundreds – perhaps thousands – of tentacle-like limbs. The depths of the darkness seemed to deepen and swell. Glimmers of reflected light as malevolent eyes stared upwards. Then the first of the Vril appeared in the torchlight, scrabbling up the shaft, hauling itself towards the surface.

The Vril at the top of the shaft scuttled forwards, to the edge.

‘They are coming!'

‘Yes,' Hoffman agreed. The axe or Alina. Nothing else existed. He reached down for the rucksack and lifted it up.

‘What are you thinking?'

‘Only of victory.' That much was true. He pulled open the top of the rucksack and reached inside.

‘No.' The Vril was moving round the opening, towards Hoffman. ‘You are thinking about another human.'

Dark, crooked tentacles reached out over the lip of the opening. Contorted limbs scrabbled to get a grip. The first of the Vril hauled themselves up and out, stalking towards Hoffman with the other Vril.

‘You are thinking about a woman.'

The rumble behind Hoffman became a roar as a wave of fuel crashed in. The Minotaur staggered back, unbalanced by the weight of liquid that swept into its legs. The Vril in the chamber reared up on their back legs, front limbs raking the air.

‘Her name is Alina,' Hoffman had to shout about the roar, though they would have heard his thoughts anyway.

The wave swept across the chamber. He braced himself against it to keep his balance. Fluid poured over the lip of the open hatchway, a sudden violent waterfall crashing down. Most of the Vril in the shaft were swept away, screeching and howling. Some managed to cling on, desperately reaching upwards, clawing their way through the constant flow of falling fuel.

Hoffman waded through the sticky liquid, finding where it was shallow but close to the shaft, pulling the packages from the rucksack.

A Vril splashed towards him through the liquid, and he kicked at it viciously, sending it rolling away in a mass of whirling tentacles. It toppled over the lip and down the shaft.

They were tearing at Alina. In his mind, the Vril clawed and ripped at her, shredding her dress. But she was only a picture, an image, a photograph. It tore away, and for the first time he allowed himself to think about what he was doing. For the first time the Vril saw the image revealed behind the mental picture as it disintegrated into a ball of fire.

Torpex was short for ‘torpedo explosive'. A combination of TNT and the more powerful RDX laced with powdered aluminium that would prolong the explosive pulse, it was designed to burn even underwater. Hoffman tore across the tops of the friction strips. He watched the fuses burst into intense flame, burning down towards the explosives.

He had dropped his torch, but through the stuttering light of the fuses, he saw the Minotaur hurl itself across the chamber, head down as it charged towards him. He didn't move. Made no attempt to get out of the way. Waited until the last possible moment – so that the fuses were almost spent and as much fuel as possible had poured down into the Vril's hibernation chambers deep below. Then he threw the explosives towards the open shaft.

The bull's horns hammered into Hoffman, lifting him off the ground and tossing him across the chamber. He rolled as he landed, splashing through fuel, somehow getting to his feet – running.

He had always known he was going to die here, but now that there was nothing he could do about it, now that there was no turning back, he was running for his life – out of the chamber and up the tunnel, against the tide of flowing fuel.

Behind him, the Torpex exploded as it neared the bottom of the shaft. The fuel vapour ignited first, blasting up through the shaft. Then the fuel itself burst into flame, scorching through the lower levels and sterilising them of Vril. Dark shapes burst into brilliant light. Shrieks and screams were lost in the roar of the explosion.

The percussive force hit Hoffman harder than the Minotaur had done. It propelled him up the tunnel. A ball of fire erupted from the shaft and blasted through the chamber. The Minotaur disappeared in a blaze of orange flame.

The fire swept up the tunnel, running along the river of fuel, hurtling after Hoffman as he ran for the opening so far ahead. His torch was gone, but the whole tunnel system was bathed in the light of the fire. He stumbled and lurched against the tunnel wall. His hand disappeared through an opening and he fell through into the tunnel on the other side.

That was it. He couldn't outrun the fire now. He staggered back to his feet, ready to step back into the main tunnel and the charging flames. Except – the tunnel here was dry. The fuel didn't run through it as it sought out the shortest way downhill to the main chamber. If Hoffman could get far enough along this tunnel, away from the fuel and the flames then perhaps he had a chance.