Below, p.11
Below, page 11
‘Right.’ Liam heard himself swallow.
‘Keep clear of the shaft; could be some stuff starts falling down it. Stay in the cabin.’ Voices in the background, then the sound of machinery. ‘All right, buddy. Call you just before we start. Take care, son.’
Liam told Imogen what was happening. From the cabin windows, they could see the black circle of the supply shaft if they squinted upwards. Staying inside was sensible, Liam knew. Like his father had said, drilling and tunnelling were full of surprises — and yeah, that included nasty ones. The sort not even the experts could have imagined.
At 8.08pm, the radio buzzed. A familiar voice again. ‘Liam, mate. It’s Mario. We’re ready to go, mate. Tell us first — anything you need from the capsule in the next couple of hours? Can’t use it when we’re drilling, remember. Nothing? OK, mate, stay on the radio. We’re on our way — mate.’
They closed the cabin door, stood by the filthy windows, eyes fixed on the small dark hole in the rock above Lucia . For eight … ten minutes, nothing happened. Imogen held the radio. ‘I’ll call them, eh?’ she asked after another couple of minutes. ‘Tell them nothing’s happening?’
Then they both exclaimed as a gout of muddy slush and water burst from the opening, splashing down on the sodden ground beneath it. A few small stones followed. A couple also fell from the broken section of tunnel roof.
Nothing for a few more seconds. Then from the shaft, even inside the cabin, they heard a deep, far-off thrumming. Another burst of water came pouring down. The thrumming grew into a steady grinding. The drill had begun. The rescuers were on their way.
THIRTY
They didn’t hug or yell this time. Imogen leaned her forehead against the smeared glass and seemed to let out a breath. Liam felt his body tighten, then relax a fraction, in its own silent sigh. The men and women up above were coming to save them.
Imogen still held the radio pressed to her ear. The drill pulsed on, far away but working closer every second. A few more falls of slush and pebbles from the shaft; a couple of other small stones from elsewhere on the walls, probably disturbed by vibrations through all those layers of rock.
8.41pm. They tensed as the distant noise stopped. At the same moment, Imogen exclaimed, ‘Yes? Hello, Mr Geary. Yes, we can hear it. Yes, we’re all right. Hold on.’ She passed the radio across to Liam.
‘Hey, buddy. Everything OK down there?’ Why shouldn’t it be all right? a corner of Liam’s mind wondered, but ‘Yeah, fine, Dad,’ he said. ‘Some water and a few stones down the shaft, that’s all. We can hear you, like Imogen says.’
‘Right. Right. Nothing else happening?’ Once again, Liam heard that note in his father’s voice. ‘No,’ he replied. ‘Nothing else.’
‘Good. Now we’re going to drill for a couple of hours. We’re not going to rush things — want to get you out of there as soon as we can — but we’re not gonna risk damaging the drill, or doing anything to the first shaft. That’s gotta keep you supplied, remember. And after the cave-in, we’re bein’ extra careful.’
Liam nodded, realised that was useless, said, ‘Yes’. Imogen was leaning in, trying to hear what his father was saying. He held the handset out slightly for her.
‘Make sure you tell Imogen.’ More machinery throbbed in the background as Mr Geary spoke. ‘You’re lookin’ after her, OK?’
‘And I’m looking after him,’ the girl called.
Liam’s father chuckled. ‘Good luck with that, love! All right, we’re startin’ again. Keep the radio handy, remember; there’s always someone here. Hope you get some sleep.’
‘Bye, Dad.’
‘Bye, Mr Geary.’ Liam put the handset down on the computer desk. They argued for a bit over whether to have some soup. ‘Save it for breakfast,’ Imogen finally said. ‘Just in case they can’t send the capsule down for a while. Don’t mind being hungry, if it gets us out of here faster.’ She shook her head. ‘Hell, just think — what … two days ago? … we were talking about having to eat bits of wood.’
Liam wandered out to go to the loo area. ‘Hard hat, remember,’ Imogen told him. He grunted, came back and took it with him. They had a roll of proper toilet paper now. Those computer manual pages … well, they might be good for a computer.
More small stones lay scattered across the ground, he saw as he made his way back. The far-above thrum of the drill had started again. He stood for a couple of minutes, not really sure what he was looking or listening for. Nothing happened. He shook his head, climbed back into the cabin where Imogen was spreading blankets on the floor. He kept thinking of what his father had said — and how he’d said it. Something was there that he still hadn’t understood.
They did sleep. The big drill, somewhere on that ridge above them, thrummed away, but they knew that every turn it made was edging closer to them. Twice, three times it paused, and the radio buzzed. Voices — Sonny Ngatai when Liam answered — checked they were OK, asked if anything was happening. Imogen picked up the handset for the other calls, mumbled ‘Hi. Yeah, we’re OK. No, just the same.’
You should get up and look, Liam opened his mouth to tell her. For the call he’d taken, he’d dragged himself from under the blankets, peered bleary-eyed out the cabin window. The dim lights showed no difference: maybe a couple more stones on the ground near Lucia. A thin ribbon of water streamed from the shaft onto the puddled ground. Imogen should check, all the same. But he was asleep again before he could say anything.
The thrumming stopped at 6.35am. They were both awake. Imogen had gone outside, to wash at the TBM’s water tanks. ‘Don’t use up all the soap,’ Liam said. ‘In case …’
‘In case of what?’ When he said nothing, she headed off. They were both feeling so much stronger now; proper food and knowing they’d be rescued seemed to have filled them with energy. Maybe I’ll turn into an early riser like Mum and Dad, Liam thought. Can’t wait to see the sun again. What he and Imogen had said, about wanting to just sit in it — yeah, he’d do that. He’d do so many cool things.
The drill stopped. They both lifted their heads and stared. Then the radio buzzed. ‘Hey, Liam, mate?’ said … yes, Mario. ‘You both OK down there, mates?’ Once again, Liam tried to imagine how many people were working night and day up there to get them out. I’m going to do so many useful things too, when we’re out, he promised himself. He thought again of that technology and environment stuff. How about …
Yeah, they were fine, he replied. Breakfast was on its way, Mario told him. Drilling would start again as soon as supplies had reached them. ‘Making good progress up here, mate, in spite of the crap weather.’
The familiar capsule slid from the shaft just ten minutes later. Still more hot chocolate. Bananas and oranges again. Pastries! Imogen was right — they were going to get too big to fit into the rescue pod.
They pulled out a couple of other objects. Magazines — a sports one and a TV one. ‘Something to read!’ exclaimed Imogen. ‘Awesome! You can have the sports one.’
Inside five minutes, the drill was grinding again. They’re not wasting any time, Liam thought. It felt almost ordinary now: the drill, the supply capsule, the drill again. Weird how things got into a routine so quickly. Time seemed to be moving past faster, too. When they’d finished breakfast, read some of their magazines, and he checked again, it was 8.42am. Friday: they’d been here nearly six days.
At 9.20am, the radio crackled. ‘Hey, bro,’ said Noah, and Liam found himself grinning. ‘Why aren’t you at school?’ he demanded.
‘They gave me and Sonja time off to cheer you guys up,’ his friend replied. ‘Oh, and Ms Salisi says she’s saving up the work you’ve missed while you’re slacking off down there. You’ll be able to spend all the next holidays doing it.’
‘Get real!’ Liam snorted. But yeah, he was missing school — even maths. He listened as Noah talked. They were still on the news. ‘But you’re slipping, boy: main story today is about a giraffe in the zoo that’s having a baby.’
Two things happened at once. Liam burst out laughing, so loud that Imogen jumped and said, ‘What? What’s happening?’ It was so long since he’d really laughed that it sounded strange in his ears. At the same time, his whole body ached with wanting to be up in the world of light, where people talked and joked about zoos and giraffes. Come on, Dad! he said inside his head. Come on!
Noah was still talking. ‘Nothing else happening except the stink weather. Hasn’t stopped pouring down for ages. And that big storm’s supposed to arrive day after tomorrow. There’s parts of town flooded already, so dunno what it’s going to do to—’
A man’s voice spoke in the background. Liam couldn’t make out the words, but he could hear the urgency. Noah stopped, said, ‘OK, right. Anyway, Sonja wants to have a word with Imogen. Lots of words, probably. Hang in there, bro. See you soon, eh?’
Liam said something. He passed the handset over to the impatient girl next to him, then sat staring out the filthy cabin window into the half-darkness beyond. Imogen was talking away about how she couldn’t wait to hug some trees (after she’d hugged her mum and dad) and chase the neighbours’ new puppy. Oh, and give her hair a proper shampoo. But Liam hardly heard her. He was starting to understand what that tone in his father’s voice might be about.
THIRTY-ONE
‘We need light,’ Imogen said when she’d finished talking to Sonja. She sat gazing at her reflection in the window, pushing dark hair behind her ears. ‘We need sunlight.’
Tell me something I don’t know, Liam thought. The girl went on. ‘If you don’t get enough Vitamin D, your body starts to have all sorts of problems. Liver doesn’t work properly; eyes start losing functions; skin cells die. Learned about that in—’ (Oh, no, Liam told himself) ‘—in this sick horror movie Sonja and I watched once.’
The day trudged along. 11.15am … 2.40pm … 5.17pm. They ate. They read both magazines from front cover to back cover. ‘Rugby is so boring!’ Imogen huffed as she chucked the sports one onto a desk. ‘So are half those Celebrity Survivor stars,’ grunted Liam, as he dropped the TV one on top of it.
‘Keep eating the fruit,’ Imogen said, as Liam ignored an orange and reached for a biscuit. ‘We need to keep our Vitamin C up.’ So Liam ate two biscuits. And then an orange, when Imogen couldn’t see him.
They walked around, did stretches and squats, even practised running on the spot. ‘Need to be fit for when the rescue pod comes,’ said Liam. It’s time I gave some orders, he decided. It was hard to find a place where water didn’t spray upwards under their feet, but it was brilliant to feel the strength back in their bodies. I might run to find a place where I can sit in the sun, he thought.
Almost as if she’d been reading his mind, Imogen said, ‘When we get out — maybe we could see if your father and my parents want to talk? About that technology and nature stuff? Or … Or maybe we could do something in a school assembly? I like that electric cars for tunnel workers idea of yours.’
Imogen Parkinson liked something he’d said? Maybe he was having a weird dream. But she could sometimes be … yeah, she was certainly different.
The drill droned on, far above. It was working for longer spells now; they must have got it all lined up. Water continued to trickle from the supply shaft; stones and a few falls of dirt dropped from it onto the puddled ground. A knee-high mound of soil and stones had built up beneath the hole. When Liam had finished his stretches, he went over and kicked some away.
As he turned back towards the cabin, there was a movement from one side of the tunnel. A small section of clay slumped down onto the ground and lay there, glistening in the dim lights. Water trickled from the broken wall behind. Maybe I can tell Imogen to wash her hair in that, Liam thought.
Liam’s mum and Imogen’s mum called and talked. His dad made a couple of checks, but didn’t speak for long. ‘Gotta go and earn my pay, buddy.’ Otherwise, time seemed to have slowed down again. I’ve been frightened and hungry and nearly squashed down here, Liam told himself. Now I’m bored.
The night dragged by as well. It dragged because they couldn’t sleep. They were well fed now: a fish pie had come down in the capsule, and Liam wondered if he dared order that hamburger for next time. Another couple of blankets had been sent down as well, so while the cabin floor still felt hard, it didn’t dig into their backs the way it used to. But they couldn’t sleep.
Liam tried lying on one side, then on the other. He turned on his back, gazed up at the cabin lights’ dull glow. They’ve lasted and lasted, he thought. Hell, I haven’t checked where the nearest torch is! If the lights went off now, he wouldn’t have a clue where to find it. He half-sat, felt around on the desk, then knelt up and looked. One torch lay beside the non-working computer screen, another at the far end. A third one was in the drawer, he remembered now. But he’d been sloppy; he had to keep checking. He lay back down, annoyed with himself.
Beside him, Imogen asked, ‘What you doing?’
‘Checking where the torches are,’ Liam answered, before he could stop himself.
‘I always make sure one’s right beside me when I lie down,’ the girl said.
Suppose you learned that in Health Studies, thought Liam. After a few minutes, he said, ‘You awake?’
‘No, I’m just answering questions in my sleep.’ She sighed. ‘I keep thinking of those people up there, doing all these things to get us out. There’s so many of them. Must be some way they can work together. Maybe we could get some of them from both sides to talk to an assembly, too. My parents would.’
‘So would my dad,’ Liam told her — quickly.
They talked some more. Liam described the deepest tunnel in the world: a 12-kilometre shaft bored straight down through the Arctic ice and tundra, to see what lay beneath.
‘What’s it going to be like when the drill reaches here?’ Imogen asked. So he told her about a YouTube clip he’d seen, of an American tunnelling machine breaking through to where another TBM had been boring from the other side. ‘These stones started jumping off the rock face. Then big slabs just peeled away, like playdough, and you could see the teeth of the cutting disc come chewing through. Amazing!’
‘It’s Mum’s birthday next week,’ was Imogen’s reply. ‘No, this week. I keep forgetting how long we’ve been down here.’ Huh, that’s the last time I waste good descriptions on you, Liam decided.
They lay without speaking after that. How could she forget we’ve been down here for nearly seven days? He thought. No, it was nearly … He was forgetting, too. How many more? Four or five, maybe. Every turn of the big drill brought their rescue closer. He could hear it now, rumbling and growling above. Hey, had it just got louder? No, that was a rockfall, somewhere. After a while, the drill became a distant murmur, and he knew he was drifting into sleep.
The radio jerked him awake. The buzzing was longer and louder than the usual calls. It stopped, repeated, kept going. Liam fumbled for it, blinking and yawning. The numbers on his watch read 5.20. We haven’t slept right through the day, have we? No, 5.20am. What were— The radio buzzed again, long and insistent. Imogen lay in a tangle of blankets and dark hair; she didn’t seem to have heard.
Liam pressed the TALK button. ‘Yeah? Hello?’
Straightaway, his father was speaking. Liam’s back went tight as he heard how urgent the man sounded. ‘Listen, son. I want you to do something for me.’
‘What?’ Liam gaped around.
Everything seemed the same: grubby and dimly lit. A dribble of water ran down the outside of one window.
‘Can you go outside and see how much water’s lying around? Take the radio with you.’
‘I — hold on.’ Liam hauled himself up, headed for the door. He turned, picked up one of the torches, moved out onto the steps. Then he froze.
The entire ground outside was covered with muddy water. The puddles and slushy bits from yesterday had become a grubby lake. It looked only about ankle-deep, but many of the little rocks and pebbles had disappeared beneath it. More water was flowing from the black mouth of the supply shaft, and Liam could see the sheen of other streams sliding down the tunnel walls.
‘Dad …’ His voice shook. ‘Dad, there’s a whole lot of it. It’s covered the ground; must have come through during the night. What’s happening?’
A second’s silence. His father’s voice was calm: calm but tense. ‘We’re having a few issues up here, son. Storm seems to have got worse; rain’s bucketin’ down, all over the mountain. We know some’s getting down the shaft, but it must be finding other ways into where you two are, as well.’
Liam’s stomach had knotted so hard, it hurt. ‘We’re gonna be drilling faster, buddy,’ his dad went on. ‘You’ll hear the change. Don’t worry, eh? We’ll get on top of it, but we’ll be stepping things up a bit. Just keep your eyes on that water; tell us if it gets higher, all right? Let us know straightaway. Tell Imogen things are OK.’
The call ended. Liam stood on the step, staring at the sheet of filthy water. Over by the walls, ripples showed where more was flowing down. A thin, steady column poured from the supply shaft.
His father wasn’t telling the truth. Things weren’t OK — not by a long way.
THIRTY-TWO
He stayed standing on the clay-smeared steps, eyes fixed on the muddy pool. He jumped as a thock! sounded, and a small fountain leaped where a stone had fallen. Another dropped, over by one of the smashed walls.
They were going to drill faster, his dad had said. Liam’s stomach knotted again. He knew what that meant. The drill might jam; the extra vibration would put more pressure on surrounding rocks; the shaft itself could become crooked. His father would know all this, but they’d made the choice. How much water was pouring down up above? Didn’t they have pumps to clear the shaft? Could pumps and drill work at the same time? He had no idea.
