Authors: SW Fairbrother
Mullen's eyes slide across to the cheap tables. Fisher's right. Nothing there but bare concrete and the metal legs of the stackable chairs behind. Mullen shouldn't care. If anything, Fisher's discomfort would normally amuse him, but there's something panicky in the fat little man's tone. Something sharp strikes at Mullen’s belly. Maybe his stomach is still churning from the trip down, or it's the weirdness of the storm, or the sullen faces of the locals, but suddenly this whole trip seems like a terrible idea, no matter what Hannah wants.
He's not the only one. The rest of the group, except Hannah, is now watching Fisher with wide eyes. No one knows what's meant to be under the table, but Fisher seems to think it's important, and this place is too weird, too horrible for something to go wrong. Not with the rain hammering on the roof like it's trying to get in and drown them all.
“Huh,” Arnou says, and with that, Mullen realises Arnou either knew all along there was nothing there, or he just doesn't care.
Fisher claps his hands together twice, and the stupid cheery tone is back, as if he's a permanently smiling teacher herding five-year-olds. “Not a worry. Not a worry,” he says. “Hannah, you know where to go. Would you mind taking everyone downstairs while I get this sorted out? Probably just a mix up.”
The fat man disappears outside into the streaming wet, followed by Arnou, and for a second, Mullen thinks he sees the Earthling's mouth curl into a smirk.
“What was supposed to be under the table?” Mother Kozlow says.
Hannah shrugs. “Last time it was supplies.”
“You mean
our food
? What are we supposed to eat?”
Hannah shrugs again. “We'll be fine. Fisher will find it, and if he doesn't, we can just pick up some local stuff.”
Mother Kozlow's face grows pale. Mullen doesn't blame her. He imagines mud pie for breakfast, followed by mud sandwiches for lunch, just plain mud for dinner. Mud pudding for afters. All of it stuffed full of Earth germs. He wonders how long he can go without eating. Wonders how long the little Kozlows can go without. He hopes they have some chocolate hidden away in their puffy jackets. They're still babies. They can't eat Earth food.
He opens his mouth to argue with Hannah, then shuts it with a snap. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice tells him he keeps his mouth shut too often. He ignores it, the way he always does.
“What's downstairs?” he says He doesn't care, but the deeper they go, the farther they get from the rain. The persistent noise is starting to beat its way into his head, and makes his heart skip faster. If it doesn't stop, he's going to go crazy. “Which door?”
Relief crosses the faces of both the Kozlows and the Europans, and he knows the rain is drilling into their brains as much as it is his. Mother Kozlow's mouth is set in a too-straight line. Daddy Kozlow hasn't dared look at her once since they entered the building and now Mullen knows just whose idea the holiday was.
Hannah points to the right. She's still grinning, hasn't even wiped the rain from her face. For the first time, instead of finding her Earth obsession a little odd (but still a little sweet) Mullen now wonders if she is in fact completely insane.
Hannah makes for the door, and Mullen follows her as if tied to her by an invisible cord. The rest of them follow like little lost ducklings.
Hannah steps through. There's not much behind the door: a single spiral staircase leading down into the dark. The ducklings all squash up behind Mullen when he halts suddenly in the doorway. Daddy Kozlow's gut pushes into Mullen's back.
His pride doesn't want to admit it, but Mullen's as much a duckling as the rest of them. He thinks of the invisible cord. He'd really tie himself to Hannah if he could, if only so he can't lose her somewhere in the spiralling dark.
The thought is absurd.
It's this place. It makes you crazy.
Everything is wrong.
The sounds are wrong, the people are wrong, even the air is wrong. Somehow the air feels
fuller
. It's full of
everything
: cold, stink. It has a weird thickness completely unlike the recycled and carefully monitored atmosphere of the colonies. Mullen feels as if he could choke on it.
Hannah reaches out, and light flickers; once, twice, then sticks. She doesn't hesitate, just takes off down into the depths of the Earth. Mullen follows, of course. He'd follow her into the bowels of Hell if that was where she wanted to go. He's not entirely convinced that isn't where they’re headed anyway.
They spiral down the stairs, and feet slap behind him as the tourists follow single file. It makes him think of ducks all over again, and he has to stifle a nervous giggle.
The walls were painted once. Peeling flecks still remain, and rectangular stains at regular intervals indicate that someone might have even decorated at some point in the distant past.
Finally, they reach the bottom. A single bulb sparks into life and begins to buzz.
“Oh,” Hannah says.
Mullen can see what it was supposed to be like, and it would have been kind of nice. They're on some kind of old railway platform. Wooden steps go down to railway lines that have been restored to a shine. Nice tables and chairs with cushions fill the bottom of the railway. The far end of the tunnel has been partially bricked up, and an open door gives a glimpse of a kitchen beyond. The platform itself has sofas, bookcases, pamphlets, a couple of rugs. The same rectangular spaces from the stairway are filled with old-style Earth advertisements that would make no sense to Mullen if it weren't for Hannah's movies. Wooden doors have been fitted to the arches leading away from the platform. Rectangular plates above them have twee-sounding names, indicating bedrooms.
Everything is covered with mud. The tables and chairs on the rails are smashed. The bookcases have been toppled, the books trampled and dirty. The place stinks of piss.
“Oh,” Hannah says, again.
The Boy Most Likely To Ask Stupid Questions says, “Is it supposed to be like this?”
Mr Enthusiastic gives him the kind of despairing expression reserved by younger brothers for elder ones.
Hannah's “no” is so soft and plaintive that Mullen is left with another twisting pain in his belly. He pulls her to him, feeling less like a duckling for the first time in hours.
“Wait for Fisher,” he says. “He can move us. There must be other suitable venues. Come on. You'll love it. You've already been here before. I bet there'll be better accommodation somewhere.”
Hannah nods. Usually, the opportunity to see something new from Earth would have her spinning around, but she just gives him a tight smile, and peels herself away to go check the bedrooms. Mullen puts it down to disappointment.
The bedrooms are just as bad: filthy and wrecked, and accompanied by the same stench of pre-human waste. They wait downstairs for half an hour for Fisher to get back, then Mullen and Hannah head back up the stairs to see if he's back. He isn't, and the truck is missing from outside of the building, their baggage with it. Mullen suppresses a surge of anger. No clothes. No food. He's going to wring the fat little sod's neck. Cut-price is one thing, but this is ridiculous. They go back downstairs and wait.
And wait. Fisher doesn't come back. They go back upstairs to check at hourly intervals, but the truck remains missing, and the rain doesn't let up.
Finally, the Kozlows make a nest out of some of the least spoiled bedding, and the littlest Kozlows burrow into it, bookended by their parents. The Europans spend their time tidying and reading the books, then do the same.
By the time Mullen starts to think sleep is a good idea, there's no bedding left that doesn't reek so badly it catches in his throat, so he stacks some of the chair cushions against the wall of the platform and rests against them. Hannah leans her head on his shoulder. It takes a while before her breathing slows. Mullen isn't sure he's going to sleep, but in the end he does.
The storm grows worse. It bangs, rattles, and crashes as if the sky is falling. He hears it through the fog of sleep when he half-wakes a few times, but the railway tunnel stays solid and real, even if it feels like it's shaking in his dreams.
The electricity fails sometime in the night. When he wakes, it's to pitch black and the sound of someone crying. It's Hannah. The warm weight of her shakes into his side. He squeezes her close, and kisses her on a damp cheek.
“I know this wasn't what you wanted to show me,” he whispers, “but you were right. It's quite the experience, but it's just one night. We'll get it sorted out in the morning.”
For some reason, that only makes her cry harder. He holds her in the dark, pressing gentle kisses to the top of her head, until she stops shaking and her breathing slows.
Hannah has always been the more emotional of the two of them, the one so easily moved to tears.
The first time Mullen saw her, she was crying. She was twelve, he was thirteen. She'd been new to the city, crying for what she'd left behind, and he'd watched in fascination. Somehow, there was no shame to her tears, the way there would have been to his. She'd cried openly and publicly as if that were the way everyone did it.
And then he'd got to know her better, and found she cried
all the time
, but the tears were balanced by a joyfulness like nothing he'd ever witnessed. Nothing was ever dull for her. It was either wonderful, or it was terrible, and those extremes were
infectious
. He caught her moods like a cold. She infected him, burrowing deep into his bones, so that any time she wasn't close by, he ached as if part of him were missing.
They'd grown up. Life had gone on, and Hannah had gone on without him – into her politics and campaigning, same as she always had been, caring too deeply about
everything
. She'd left him behind to be the sensible one, and he'd gone to work for Harbin-Beck like everyone else. He'd known it had always been one-sided, and that it was coming. She cared for him, yes, but not the way he adored her.
And then, two years ago, she'd come back and it had been perfect. Maybe he wasn't her sun, not the way she was his, but somehow she loved him, and that was enough.
He falls asleep again, smiling, because no matter how awful this place is, Hannah still has her head on his shoulder.
When Mullen wakes again, it's still pitch black. The stink of mud has somehow grown heavier, eclipsing every other bitter stench the place harbours. Water trickles somewhere not far away.
Something has gone wrong; he can feel it in his bones. It's not just the ruined accommodation or the missing supplies. Fisher should have been back by now. Despite the weirdness of it, Mullen knows the storm wasn't
that
bad. Not for Earth. Fisher should have fixed the electricity, or brought down storm lanterns. The little lead ball of dread that has been pulling at the bottom of his stomach grows even bigger.
He reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket for his handheld, and switches it on. The light from the screen doesn't illuminate much. The rest of the tourists are huddled and still, the sound of their breathing loud in the tunnel. Daddy Kozlow has a snore as bad as the rain. Mullen extricates himself from Hannah, and makes his way up the spiral stairs.
His neck cricks. He rolls the muscles in his back while he walks. He was expecting to sleep rough, not spend a night against a brick wall. One day down, six to go, and then he'll be back in his own bed. At the top of the stairs, the door is open by an inch; a sliver of daylight sketches a thin white streak on the opposite wall.
Mullen pushes against it, expecting it to give. It doesn't. He pushes against it harder. It doesn't give in the least. Whatever is blocking it is
heavy
. He leans forward and puts an eye to the open inch.
Whatever he is expecting to see, it isn't mud and open sky where there should be brick and metal roofing. The sight of the sky makes his stomach twist. It's so big and so powerful, it feels as if it could suck him out through the sliver of open door, and pull him into space.
Don't be ridiculous
. Mullen shakes his head at the absurdity of his own mind.
He twists to get a better view, and finds brick and metal, warped, broken and sunk into the ever-present mud. A large section of wall appears to have fallen against the door. There is no way he will be able to push it open, and he can’t break through the reinforced metal either.
Mullen thinks of what he knows of Earth storms: rain, thunder, and lightning. Sometimes tornadoes and hurricanes. He supposes one of the latter could have done this, but aren't they rare? He doesn't know, and it doesn't matter. God only knows what happened to Fisher. That doesn't matter either. Mullen certainly has no intention of relying on the fat little frog to get them out of here. And if he can't rely on Fisher, he certainly can't rely on any of the sullen-faced Earthlings.
They can't even wait for someone to miss them and send a rescue party. It could be days. They have no food, no clothing, nothing. He hasn't eaten since Fisher handed out stale sandwiches on the shuttle down. His stomach rumbles at the thought.
Mullen pulls out his handheld. He's not supposed to connect to the mainframe here. He wasn't even supposed to bring his security key, but what else could he do to occupy himself while Hannah was off gawping at fossils? Work is the only thing he has in his life apart from Hannah. Sometimes there's something to be said for breaking the rules.
He connects to the Harbin-Beck mainframe and finds the local Earth hubs. He scrolls through, trying to figure out which is the one they saw from the bus. He has no idea what part of Earth they are on. He has a vague memory of Hannah chattering about it on the shuttle while he was trying to sleep. Something about it once being one of the hubs of civilisation. He shakes his head. They could be anywhere.
The mine will have a security team and equipment to get the door open, and as soon as they see his security level, they'll be falling over themselves to help him. He feels a brief flush of pride. For all that Hannah gives him a hard time about working for Harbin-Beck, he's going to be the one to get them out of this mess.
OK, he'll get a rap over the knuckles for bringing his security key on an unauthorised trip, but so what? It won't be any worse than huddling in the dark and waiting for
Earthlings
to rescue them.
Mullen finds the local mine and connects, sends his security protocols, and waits. And waits. He doesn't even get an automated acknowledgement. Whatever damage the storm has done to the building has also knocked out communications at the mine.
That makes no sense,
Mullen thinks. The mine hub is designed to withstand damage from storms, rioters, blasts. Everything.
But there's no point crying over something he cannot change. He stays logged in, so he'll know as soon as communications come back on, and then heads back down the stairs.
Everyone is awake when he steps back into the darkness, and they all have their handhelds out. The pale light from the screens is just enough to highlight their concerned faces.
“Where's Fisher?” Mr Enthusiastic asks.
“I have no idea,” Mullen says. He tells them about the storm damage and the blocked door. Hannah comes up beside him and leans against his shoulder. Her clothing feels clammy and damp like the tunnel, and her hair reeks of it.
It's the Earth burrowing into us
, he thinks,
infecting us.
In his mind's eye, the golden light of their vaccinations is failing, losing the battle against the pure filth of the Earth. The grime and pollution are turning them into mud monsters, one cell at a time.
He shakes his head again, trying to clear it of the madness. This place is driving him insane. Hannah frowns at him, concerned. He smiles, kisses the top of her damp-smelling hair.
“We'll just have to shove the door open,” Daddy Kozlow says.
“It's
blocked
,” Mullen says again. “We'll need to find another way out.”
“Can't we just wait for help?” asks the Boy Most Likely To Ask Stupid Questions. His narrow face appears strained and washed-out in the wan light from their screens and, even though he’s the elder of the two, he's clinging to his brother as if the darkness might suck him away.
“Don't be an idiot, Chi,” Mr Enthusiastic says. He nudges Hannah. “You've been here before. Is there another way out?”
“I think Chibuzo is right. We should wait,” Hannah says.
That's his name.
“
Why
?” Mr Enthusiastic says.
“Just give Fisher a little more time. Or John Arnou.”
“Good God, no,” Daddy Kozlow spits out. “That animal was probably the one that pissed all over the beds. He's taken his fee and run. I'd put money on it.”
“No, no. He's not like that,” Hannah says in a hurt tone.
Privately, Mullen thinks Kozlow is at least half right. Arnou probably isn't dumb enough to piss where he eats, but he's not going to come back. Mullen thinks of the resentment in the creature's dark eyes. Arnou's not going to lift a finger to help them.
“There should be a way out through the railway tunnels,” Mullen says. “We just need to follow the tracks. But Hannah's right, someone might come back” –
Fisher
, he thinks, and he feels guilty when Hannah looks grateful – “so someone should stay here just in case.”
Finally they decide that Mother Kozlow and the children will stay, along with the Boy Most Likely to Ask Stupid Questions, because she doesn't want to stay on her own and he's too much of a wuss to go off into the dark.
Mr Enthusiastic actually appears to live up to Mullen's private nickname for him, and is keen to go explore. The younger Europan actually seems to be enjoying himself, as if this is all some grand adventure. Mullen decides the boy is just as stupid as his elder brother – only a different
kind
of stupid.
Hannah tries to make a case for the two of them to stay, but Mullen argues her down. He can't bear the thought of waiting passively in the noxious dark, and he doesn't want to leave her here without him
He's itching to get out of here. And no matter what he might have said to Hannah previously, he's not even entertaining remaining another six days. It's the surface and a shuttle for them. He can feel the Earth's germs burrowing into his skin, deeper and deeper with every second he stays here. The sooner they get out into the open air, the sooner he can contact the mine and get away from this filthy planet.
One side of the tunnel is bricked up completely. There is no way through short of breaking down the wall, so they head for the kitchen instead.
Just to be sure, Mullen checks all the cupboards. Even if the Kozlows have already checked them top to bottom, he needs to be certain. He finds nothing. There is no food. Whatever had been in the missing supply boxes was all there was. Hannah, Daddy Kozlow and – “What's your name again?” – Amadi, otherwise known as Mr Enthusiastic, wait patiently while he finishes rifling through drawers and cupboards.
There is a door leading out of the kitchen. Mullen insists they only keep one of their handhelds on at a time. The last thing they want is to run out of energy in the stinking dark, and have to feel their way out.
Away from the platform and the tourist accommodation, the mud begins to turn to cold, dirty water. They slosh through, feet sticking to the gloop at the bottom.
The handheld doesn't give off much of a glow, but it's enough to see that the walls are black and slimy with mould. Mullen takes care to keep to the middle of the tunnel. The golden light of his vaccinations can only do so much.
Hannah is uncharacteristically silent. He reaches out and takes her hand. Her fingers are frozen, so they walk hand-in-hand like teenagers. Every now and then, she glances over at him, but when he looks back to meet her eyes, she is staring straight ahead. He aches for her. She'd wanted to show him this so badly, and it has all gone so very wrong.
“It's OK,” he says. “We're OK. It's not your fault.”
She bursts into tears. Daddy Kozlow and Mr Enthusiastic stare straight ahead. They don't know what to do with Hannah's tears. Mullen does. He's had years of them. He squeezes her hand, and leans over to kiss her. She doesn't stop crying, but that's OK. It just needs to come out, and he just needs to be there for her. He knows how it works by now.
The tunnel is beginning to curve, and the water is getting deeper. It's almost at their knees. Mullen has lost track of how far they've come, but they need to find a way out soon.
“What's that?” Daddy Kozlow says suddenly.
They all come to a halt. The sloshing sound doesn't, and there is a lighter patch ahead on the black curve of the tunnel. Someone with a better light than theirs is wading towards them. More than one someone, to judge by the splashing.
Mullen's stomach flips.
Get a grip
, he thinks;
it's probably a rescue party sent by Fisher
. He hates this place and what it's doing to his nerves.
The source of the light turns out to be lanterns carried by two of a group of six Earthlings led by John Arnou.
Before Mullen even has a chance to process the fact that that they are all holding guns, Arnou raises his weapon and shoots Mr Enthusiastic in the head.