Culver pushed at the metal and the door ground protest-ingly against the stone floor, shifting only a few inches. Wary of what could be on the other side, he slipped through. No half-eaten corpse held the door open.
The others came in after him, shivering anew with the dank cold. Culver examined the lock and found an open bolt, rusty with years of dampness.
This is an entrance for the sewer workers and inspectors,' declared Dealey. 'It probably leads to an exit along the Embankment, or somewhere in the vicinity.'
'I thought they used manholes,' said Fairbank.
'Of course not. They have to bring in equipment for repairs and suchlike, as well as large work crews.'
Why would the door be unlocked?' asked Culver.
'Negligence probably. You can see the door's been warped out of shape by dampness. I doubt anyone found it necessary to lock it anyway. Sewers aren't generally frequented by trespassers, are they?'
'No,' Culver agreed, 'but I'd feel safer if we got it closed. Remember what's chasing us?'
Fairbank lent his weight when Culver put his shoulder to the door. It closed reluctantly, the movement echoing back from the far end of the passageway. Culver shot the rusty bolt with some satisfaction.
Their footsteps were less hurried as they tramped along the lengthy corridor, not because their fear had left them -although it was not quite as acute as before - but because weariness was finally asserting a stronger grip, adrenalin losing its power.
Another door greeted them at the far end, and this one was locked. A hefty kick from Culver opened it.
They found themselves in a spacious room with several doorways around the walls.
'Ah, now I think I understand,' said Dealey.
The others regarded him curiously.
We've come back to a part of the old World War Two shelter. This must be the second level, just below the section we first entered. I was wrong about the passageway we've come through; it wasn't for sewer workers. It was meant as a means of escape should whoever inhabited this shelter be trapped.
The whole region is catacombed with chambers such as this. When you consider how long ag—'
Take a look!' The coldness in Fairbank's voice startled them all. He was sweeping his flashlight along the floor.
At first they thought the objects lying there were just debris, pieces of mislaid junk left by previous generations of occupiers. When they looked closer the chill inside them all deepened.
The first object to take on an identity was a severed arm, all but one of the fingers missing. The next was the remains of a head, one empty eyesocket bored into and enlarged as though something had been dragged out. A piece of putrid flesh that may once have been a thigh lay close by. The human parts lay scattered around the floor, white bones reflecting the torch lights, dried and shrivelled meat lumps standing alone like strangely shaped rocks on a desert of dust.
The familiar dread returned, only this time more potently, for they were weakened, exhausted, close to total hysteria. Culver caught Kate as she sagged. She did not faint entirely, but that unconscious state was not far away.
Ellison began to head back towards the door through which they had just arrived and Culver brought him to a sudden halt.
'No!' The pilot's voice was firm, almost angry. We're going on. We didn't come across any rats on our way into the old shelter, so I figure it's our safest way out. Nothing's making me go back into the sewers.'
The words rebounded off the empty walls, as if to mock him.
He continued determinedly, "We're going to walk straight through this, right to the other end of this room. There's a doorway there and with any luck, a stairway beyond. Just look straight ahead and don't stop for anything.'
Culver set off, supporting Kate, keeping her walking, her head tucked into his chest. The arm around her shoulder clutched the Browning, its muzzle held erect, ready to swing down into action. He kept the flashlight in his other hand aimed directly at the far doorway. Someone behind stumbled and he looked around to see Dealey on one knee, a skull, with the back of its cranium cracked open like a hatched egg, rolling to a stop a few feet away.
'Get up and keep walking,' Culver commanded, his voice tight. 'Don't stop for anything,' he repeated.
But they did stop.
As one.
When they heard the child crying.
The group stood as a rigid tableau among a macabre landscape of human remnants, listening to the pitiful crying. Culver closed his eyes against both the sound and the new pressure. He wanted to be free of this sinister madhouse, this vault of atrocities, but there was no clear escape, no relief from the mental tortures it inflicted upon them. His only desire was to take Kate's hand and run, never stopping until daylight bathed their faces, until clean air filled their lungs. Yet he knew it wasn't possible. He would have to find the child first.
They listened, feeling wretched with the plaintive cry. The wailing was high-pitched, possibly that of a little girl.
'It's coming from over there,' someone said at last.
They looked to the right, towards an opening that had been boarded up with heavy planks, the bottom section broken inwards. The wood appeared to have been gnawed.
The crying continued.
'I don't think it's wise to stay,' said Dealey, looking around anxiously at the others.
Then go to Hell,' said Culver in a low voice.
He felt a slight resistance from Kate when he moved away; then she was moving with him. The others reluctantly joined them at the boarded doorway. Culver and Fairbank shone their flashlights through the gaps between the planks
of wood and peeked in. The far wall was at least forty feet away and the room itself was bare of furniture, like the chamber they stood in. Fairbank aimed his beam low and tapped Culver's shoulder.
The stone floor of the room had collapsed inwards, leaving a ridge of jagged concrete around its circumference, with broken, exposed joists protruding. Below was a pit filled with rubble.
The sad, despairing cries tore at their nerves.
The kid's somewhere below,' Fairbank said.
Culver called out. 'Can you hear us? Are you on your own?'
The crying stopped.
'It's all right. We'll come down to get you! You're safe now!'
Silence.
The poor little sod is terrified out of her mind,' said Fairbank.
Culver began to pull at the planking. The rotted wood came away easily, breaking into long, damp splinters. The crying began again.
It was an eerie sound, the emptiness of the surroundings giving it a peculiar resonance, as if it came from a deep well.
'It's okay!' Culver shouted again. ‘You're going to be all right!' Echoes of his voice bounced back.
There was quiet from below once more.
The two men pulled away the wood, creating a hole large enough to climb through. They shone the lights in, the others peering over their shoulders.
'Construction work on the new shelter must have caused the fall-in,' Dealey said. With the continuous dampness over the years, the vibration from the new works, it's a wonder the whole bunker hasn't fallen in.'
Culver indicated the dark chasm before them. 'Maybe the nuclear bombs caused the final collapse.'
'Steve, please don't go down there.' Kate spoke in a low whisper, and there was an urgency in her request that disturbed Culver.
There's a kid inside,' he said. 'It sounds like a little girl, and she's alone, Kate. Maybe others are with her, too injured to speak, unconscious, maybe dead. We can't just leave her.'