City of Time (5 page)

"Yes," Owen said, "and look at the wall. The stonework is newer than the rest. It has to be the entrance to Hadima."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to try to blast it open."

Cati gulped. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"No," Owen said cheerfully, "I'm not sure at all. Take cover!"

Cati barely had time to dive behind a rock as Owen raised the gun and fired. A glass bulb filled with magno shot from the end of the gun and arced toward the wall just below the sign, where it burst with a crash and a gout of blue flame. Cati peeped out. The wall was blackened but otherwise there seemed to be little damage. Owen pulled another glass bulb from his belt.

"How many of those do you have?" Cati asked.

"Three more." He fired again. This time the mortar binding the wall cracked a little. He fired the third projectile and the cracks deepened.

"One left," he said. Now he moved much closer before firing. He recoiled from the heat of the blue flame that flicked back and almost enveloped him. As it died down, he ran forward. The wall was severely cracked and stones had fallen out in places, but there was no sign of it having been breached.

Owen sighed with disappointment. "We'll never get through it. Even with a hundred shots."

He turned away, and as he did so there was a low rumble and the ground below his feet moved.

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"Earthquake!" Cati shouted.

Before Owen had a chance to move, the whole world shook. He grabbed at the wall, then looked up in horror. Great pieces of masonry were falling all around him. He tried to move, but the ground was shaking too violently. Another earth tremor, much stronger this time. In the nearby town he could hear the sound of car alarms going off. He glanced up again. The whole wall was about to fall on him!

He felt a strange sensation around his feet. The path he stood on was covered with water up to knee height. Water was pouring up the river, topped with dirty yellow foam. A geography lesson about underwater earthquakes causing tsunamis came into his head.

"Owen!" Cati shouted above the roar of the water. Then a wall of water hit him. In seconds he was tumbling, being driven upstream, bouncing along the riverbed. Once again he heard Cati call his name and thought he felt her hand grip his, but he could not hold on. Her fingertips glanced against his and then she was gone. With one great shuddering breath he filled his lungs and the water claimed him.

He couldn't say how long he was underwater. His lungs burned and his body ached from being hit by stones and boulders. He knew that he could no longer hold his breath, that he had to exhale. He felt consciousness starting to slip away, and as it did so a distant memory formed in his mind. How as a baby he had

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been with his father when their car crashed into the harbor. How his father had rescued him. He could almost feel two strong hands closing around his waist. ...

Then he felt the terrifying wave that had carried him upriver start to ebb, receding with startling speed. A great eddy bore him to the surface. He opened his eyes and realized that he was being carried along, high above the riverbed where they had walked moments before, being swept now toward the sea. With a bone-shuddering impact, the water threw him against the stone sides of the river, pushing him higher and higher. Weakly he reached out, seeking any purchase. Just as his strength was fading, he found something to grip. Scrambling with both hands, he tried to lift himself to safety.

Not until a fresh wave of water caught him did he manage to get his hands and then his elbows onto the edge of what was the opening to a tunnel. He drew a gasping breath and then another. But even so he might have fallen back had not a great surge lifted him and propelled him into the tunnel itself. The water followed him in and rose to the level of his neck. He forced himself farther into the tunnel on his hands and knees, scrambling upward, until finally he was beyond the water's reach.

Panting, Owen heaved himself upright and lay back against the wall. There was a faint light coming from up

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ahead and he could see that the tunnel was big enough to stand in. He got to his feet, his clothes soaking. The water surged toward him again, so he turned and ran as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

The tunnel walls were slimy and the stones underfoot were slippery, but there was enough light and the going got easier as the tunnel widened. He could feel fresh air on his face. The tunnel suddenly curved to the left and opened out. Owen stepped out of the tunnel, feeling the autumn sunshine on his face.

He looked around and saw he was in a small courtyard. It was enclosed by shops and outbuildings, but it was obvious that no one had been there for many years. Doors sagged off their hinges and the windows were opaque with dust and cobwebs. Several old cars lay abandoned in the center of the courtyard, cars that were perhaps thirty or forty years old. Beside them was an old truck with canvas sides. Both of its doors were open, as though it had been abandoned in a hurry. There was a stillness to the place. Owen had the feeling that no one had disturbed the silence there for many years.

He walked cautiously around the courtyard. There was a shop selling old-fashioned mountaineering gear, the ropes now moldy and useless. Another sold camping gear, a rotted tent erected in the window. Next door the shop advertised auto spares, puncture repair kits, and things that you might need while traveling. A small shop whose front had collapsed had carried tinned food. Hundreds of tins had spilled out over the courtyard.

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This was a place where people stocked up for a long journey, Owen realized. And he had a good idea where that journey might lead.

The final shop seemed older than the others. The big window was completely obscured with dirt. Owen wiped it with his sleeve to peer inside and revealed a large gold
G
printed on the glass. He wiped again, revealing other letters. They looked familiar.

He held his breath as he wiped the rest of the glass, revealing a name:
J. M. Gobillard et Fils
. The same name that was on the mysterious chest in his bedroom!

Owen stepped back to get a better look at the shop. There didn't appear to be any door and when he looked through the glass he saw only darkness. Then he realized there were wooden doors beside it, double doors large enough for a car to get through.

He hesitated before taking hold of the big rusted bolt that held the doors closed. It screeched loudly as he forced it open, and he glanced nervously around the courtyard, feeling an air of disapproval in a place that had lain undisturbed for so long.

With one final effort the bolt slid back. Owen swung the doors open and found himself looking into an opening. The ground was battered and rutted, the walls scarred and scraped. Graffiti in strange languages covered the notched plaster work of the walls, and huge broken lamps hung from the ceiling.

A battered wooden sign pointed into the tunnel. Owen traced the letters with his finger. HADIMA.

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There was no mistaking that it was the entrance to a road, one that led down into the darkness. As he stood at the gateway, a cold, vigorous wind blew from the depths, carrying with it the smell of mountains and of snow.

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Chapter 6

Owen ran back down the tunnel. There was no sign of the flood that had swept him to it, except for damp rubbish and debris. The end opened onto the river five meters above the water. Nor was there any sign of the masonry that had hidden it, or of the fleur-de-lis.

Then he caught sight of Cati. She was sitting on the riverbank, half hidden by a tree. She got to her feet and called his name, then sat down again, looking hopeless.

"Cati!" he yelled. She leapt to her feet, looking frantically up and down the river. "Cati! Up here."

She looked up. Relief spread across her face. He swung off the lip of the tunnel and dropped onto a pile of fresh seaweed on the ground below. Cati was on her feet now, and he knew what was coming. For several

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moments he stood with his head meekly bowed as she told him off.

Then he interrupted. "I found it!"

"Found what?"

"The entrance! The way to Hadima."

"What? You're joking! Where?"

"Up there, in that drain," he said. "The earthquake brought the wall down and the water swept me there." Quickly he told her what he had found. Cati looked up. The entrance was barely visible. You had the impression of a shadow on the wall, nothing more.

"We have to tell Dr. Diamond," Cati said.

"Yes," Owen said firmly. "But first we need to make sure that the Raggies are all right." Squelching in wet clothes and shoes, Owen told Cati about the hidden courtyard on their way to the harbor. They could hear the sirens of fire brigades and ambulances in the town, but the river curved away and the sound soon faded. As they walked, Owen noticed that sometimes Cati shimmered and almost dissolved from sight.

"Are you invisible to other people at the moment?" he asked.

"I don't think so." Cati looked worried. "Whatever is happening to time has made me visible to everyone."

Owen wanted to ask more but Cati hurried on. They could see a group of what appeared to be derelict warehouses up ahead. But these warehouses were home to the Raggies.

"Hurry up," Cati said.

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They ducked under the fence that separated the warehouses from the rest of the harbor area.

"They are sleeping in the far building," Cati said. "I checked on them the other day."

Owen followed Cati to the farthest warehouse. The buildings were more run-down than he remembered. Last time he'd seen them, they'd been full of children's voices and running feet. At the back of the warehouse a small stone staircase led to a basement.

The door was small and made of wood studded with nails. Cati took a key from around her neck--the same key that opened the Starry in the Workhouse. She opened the door and pushed Owen inside, closing it quickly behind them.

Owen found himself in a smaller version of the Resisters' Starry. The ceiling glittered with what seemed like stars on a dark blue background. Small beds stood throughout the room and on each bed a child slept. Owen recognized Uel and Mervin, the brothers who had reluctantly fought for the Raggies when they had sailed forth with Cati and Dr. Diamond. He saw Silkie, the brave, resourceful oldest girl, her features more delicate than he remembered. At the top of the room his friend Wesley slept soundly, a frown on his face.

"Something's wrong," Cati said. "Can you smell it?"

Owen sniffed the air. There
was
something odd, more noticeable than at the Workhouse Starry. There at least the air smelled dry and clean--like sleep, if sleep had a smell. Here there was an odor of decay, sweetish

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and sickly. Some of the children were breathing rapidly. Others had cold sweat on their brow. Then, in the darkness, someone moaned, the frightened sound of a child having a nightmare.

"This isn't good," Cati whispered. "The air is stale."

"It's not the air," Owen said. "I think time itself is stale. Stale and old ... I have to wake Wesley!"

He stumbled through the rows. He found Wesley at last. Wesley looked even thinner and more under nourished in sleep. But Owen knew the great strength Wesley's thin frame concealed. He put his hands on his friend's forehead, and closed his eyes. Wesley seemed very far away, at the bottom of a deep well where nightmarish things lurked. Owen could feel the darkness entering his own mind, smothering his thoughts, dragging him down and down, until panic overwhelmed him. He struggled to get back to the surface but couldn't. The darkness would take him and hold him there forever.

And then he sensed Wesley's presence reaching out to him. With a final terrible wrench, Owen turned away from the dark and forced his mind to wakefulness, Wesley with him. He staggered back and fell against Silkie's bed, his hands brushing her face and bright hair.

Owen straightened up, as weary as he had ever been. As he looked down on his friend, Wesley's blue eyes opened. In one single movement, he threw himself on Owen, his arms flailing.

"You won't take us!" Wesley shouted. "You won't!"

"Wesley!" Cati shouted. He stopped and looked

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around, bewildered. He rubbed a hand slowly over his thin face, then reached out and touched one of the children beside him.

"What's happening, Cati?" he said. "What's happening to us Raggies?"

Owen looked out over the harbor. Cati had persuaded Wesley to leave the other children in the Starry and go up into the warehouse above. The warehouse was chilly and unwelcoming, bearing no resemblance to the warm and friendly place that Owen knew. Cati got Wesley to light a driftwood fire in the grate to dry their clothes, which were still wet from the flood. As he worked, Cati told him everything they knew, about the message from the Sub-Commandant and the City of Time, and the flood that had swept Owen up the river.

"First thing I seen when I woke up," Wesley said. "The moon's not in the right place. Something is bad wrong. The Raggies ain't doing too good."

"It's because they're afloat in time, I think," Owen said. "They're like fish in a tank. It's as if the water is running out and the little bit that is left is getting stale and dirty."

Normally Wesley was tough and resourceful, but now he looked lost.

"Don't worry," Cati said, taking him by the arm. "We'll sort it out." Owen wished that he felt as confident.

Wesley disappeared outside. Owen stood in front of