Will reached out gingerly and was touching the watery redness on his brother's face when he noticed the broken green forms scattered around him. And there were seeds stuck to Cal 's forehead. Will drew back his hand and tasted his fingers. It was watermelon! At Cal 's side was another damaged crate. As Will shoved it away to make more room, tangerines, pears, and apples spilled out. His brother had evidently had a soft landing, smashing into crates of fruit.
"Thank goodness," Will repeated as he shook Cal gently by the shoulders, trying to stir his limp form. But his head flopped lifelessly from side to side. Not knowing what else to do, Will took his brother's wrist to check his pulse.
"Get off me, will you!" Cal yanked his arm away from Will as he sluggishly opened his eyes and moaned self-pityingly. "My head hurts," he complained, rubbing his forehead tenderly. He brought up his other arm and glanced bemusedly at the banana in his hand. Then he caught the fragrant smell of the lush fruit all around him and look uncomprehendingly at Will.
"What happened?" he shouted over the din of the train.
"Lucky duck, you fell in the restaurant car!" Will chuckled.
"Huh?"
"Doesn't matter. Try to sit up," Will suggested.
"In a minute." Cal was groggy but otherwise appeared to be unharmed, except for a few cuts and bruises and a liberal dousing of melon juice, so Will crawled back over the crates and began to investigate. He knew he should be retrieving their backpacks from the cars in front of them, but there was no hurry. Imago had said it would be a long trip and, anyway, his curiosity was getting the better of him.
"I'm going to…" he shouted over at Cal.
"What?" Cal cupped a hand to his ear.
"Explore," Will motioned.
"OK!" Cal yelled back.
Will scrambled through the weird sea of light orbs at the rear of the car and pulled himself up on the end panel. He peered down at the coupling in between the cars and the polished sheen of the well-used rails shooting hypnotically underneath. Then he looked across to the next car, only a few feet away and, without stopping to think, hoisted himself over the edge. With the motion of the train it was awkward, but he managed to reach across and straddle both end panels, then had no option but to jump.
He dropped into the next car and rolled uncontrollably over the floor until he came to rest against a pile of canvas sacks. There was nothing much of note here except for some more crates halfway down, so he crawled to the back of the section and got to his feet again. He tried to see to the very end of the train, but the combination of smoke and darkness made this impossible.
"How many are there?" Will shouted to himself as he went to clamber over the end wall. As he repeated the process over successive cars, he finally got the hang of it and found he could hop over and steady himself before he went tumbling. He was consumed with a burning curiosity to find the end of the train but at the same time wary about what he might come across there. He'd been warned by Imago that it was more than likely there'd be a Colonist in the guard's carriage, so he had to play it carefully.
He'd dropped over the edge of the fourth car and was just crawling across a loose tarpaulin when something stirred beside him.
"What the—" Terrified he'd been caught, Will drove his heel into the shadows as hard as he could. Off balance, the kick wasn't as effective as he'd hoped, but he definitely struck something under the tarpaulin. He readied himself to strike again.
"Leave me alone!" a voice complained weakly, and the tarpaulin flew back to reveal a hunched form in the corner. Will immediately held up his light orb.
"Hey!" the voice squeaked, trying to shield its face from the illumination.
He blinked at Will, tearstains etched through the film of grime and coal smut on his cheeks. There was a pause and a gasp of recognition, and his face split into the broadest grin imaginable. It was a tired face, and had lost much of its healthy chubbiness, but it was unmistakable.
"Hi, Chester," Will said, slumping down next to his old friend.
"Will?" Chester cried, not quite believing what he was seeing; then, at the top of his lungs, he cried out again. "Will!"
"Didn’t think I'd let you go by yourself, did you?" Will shouted back. Will realized now what Imago had had in mind. He knew Chester was to be Banished, sent to the Deeps on this very train. The sly old rogue had known all along.
It was impossible to talk with all the noise from the speeding engine up ahead, but Will was content just to be reunited with Chester. Will grinned the widest of grins, luxuriating in a wave of relief that his friend was safe. He leaned back against the end panel of the car and shut his eyes, filled with the most intense feeling of elation that, finally, from the throes of the nightmarish situation he'd found himself in, something good had emerged, something had turned out right. Chester was safe! That meant the world to him.
And to top it all, he was being borne toward his father, on the greatest adventure of his life, on a journey into undiscovered lands. In his mind, Dr. Burrows was the only part of his past life he could cling to. Will was determined that he would find him, wherever he was. And then everything would be all right again. They'd all be all right: he, Chester, and Cal, all together, with his father. This notion shone in his thoughts like the brightest of beacons.
All of a sudden, the future didn't seem so daunting.
Will opened his eyes and leaned toward Chester 's ear: "No school tomorrow, then!" he shouted.
They both burst into helpless laughter, which was drowned out by the train as it continued to gather speed, spewing dark smoke behind it, carrying them away from the Colony, away from Highfield, and away from everything they knew, accelerating into the very heart of the earth.
Epilogue
The gentle heat of the sun filtered down on a beautiful day early in the New Year, so balmy it could have been spring. Unobstructed by tall buildings, the perfect blue canvas of the sky was marred only by the specks of gulls falling and rising on thermals in the distance. If it hadn't been for the occasional intrusion of traffic swerving past on the canal-side road, one might have imagined it was somewhere on the coast, perhaps a sleepy fishing village.
But this was London, and the wooden tables outside the pub were beginning to fill up as the lure of the fine weather became too tempting. Three dark-suited men with the anemic faces of office workers swaggered out through the doors and sat down with their drinks. Leaning over the table, each tried to outdo the other as they talked too loudly and laughed raucously, like squabbling crows. Next to them was a very different group, college students in jeans and faded T-shirts who hardly made any noise at all. The were almost whispering to one another as they supped their beers and rolled the occasional cigarette.
Alone on a wooden bench in the shade of the building, Reggie sipped his pint, his fourth that lunchtime. He felt slightly woozy, but since he had nothing planned for the afternoon, he'd decided to indulge himself. He took a handful of whitebait from the bowl beside him and munched on the little fish thoughtfully.
"Hiya, Reggie," one of the barmaids said, her arms full of precariously stacked glasses as she collected the empties.
"Hi there," he replied hesitantly, never very good at remembering any of the bar staff's names.
She smiled pleasantly at him, then pushed open the door with her hip as she headed back inside. Reggie had been turning up on and off for years, but he had recently become a firm regular, dropping in nearly every day for his favorites, a bowl of whitebait or cod and chips.