Authors: Michael de Larrabeiti

Borribles Go For Broke, The (25 page)

BOOK: Borribles Go For Broke, The

5.19Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

ads

‘What about a long rope then?’ said Stonks. ‘Couldn’t they pull us in?’

Tron shook his head. ‘They don’t have a rope that long, and even if they tied several ropes together we’d be at the bottom of the shaft before they’d gone and got them. The river is falling into the mine and we’re going with it.’

A muffled scream came from somewhere, then another.

Norrarf pointed. ‘That’s them bodyguards,’ he said. ‘They’ve had it; swimming out there must be like swimming in cement.’

But the Borribles had no time to think of others, their own plight was too desperate. The whirlpool churned on, round and round, and the treadmill went with it. Air bubbles, escaping from
below, erupted and threw sludge into the air so that it rained down with a vicious force and made the surface of the Wandle froth and seethe like a volcanic lake. It was a scene from the heart of hell.

And the mud flowed on into the pit, sometimes oozing, sometimes swirling, but at whatever speed it moved one thing was certain: the wheel to which the Borribles clung was steadily dropping into the centre and nothing in the world could reverse its progress.

‘We’ve had it,’ said Vulge, ‘really had it.’ But as he spoke the spate of the torrent eased and in a little while it halted altogether.

‘The hole must be full up,’ said Bingo, a note of hope in his voice. ‘We’ve stopped moving.’

‘It can’t be full up,’ said Napoleon, ‘that mine’s a quarter of a mile deep.’

‘What is it then?’ asked Twilight. He glanced at the shore. There the currents had not stopped and the powerful rise and fall of the waves kept the Wendles high on the banks, watching silently, the warriors resting on their spears.

‘This is our only chance,’ said Napoleon, ‘we oughta swim for it.’ But before anyone could move the mouth of the shaft opened again; there was another rush of mud towards it and the treadmill dipped and reared like a switchback.

The Adventurers cried aloud, convinced that their moment of death had come. The great wooden wheel toppled into the very eye of the storm and, half submerged, it tilted sideways and the Borribles were swung above the abyss but, as they swayed there on the brink, a surge came from beneath them and the wheel spun once more, swooped, and finally stuck, wedged across the wide mine shaft.

‘What’s happened?’ asked Twilight; his teeth chattering. ‘Are we still alive?’

‘Yes,’ said Napoleon, ‘but the future don’t look bright.’

The mud and water raced by like a waterfall, tearing at the Borribles, trying to smash them into the stream. The treadmill was under intense pressure; it cracked and creaked, its timbers began to give and nails and screws loosened and fell away. Then, just as suddenly as it had started, the down-flow ceased. The gaping
mouth of the mine became covered and the Wandle drifted over it once more.

‘Is it full up now, d’yer reckon?’ asked Sydney.

‘I told yer before,’ said Napoleon, ‘it can’t be full.’

‘I know what it is,’ said Knocker, ‘it must be an airlock. I think the first lot of mud must have gone down so fast that it trapped a big bubble at the bottom … If it stays this way long enough we might have time to get to the shore.’

‘We’re too weak to swim,’ said Orococco. ‘It’d be certain death out there.’

‘And what do you think it is here,’ retorted Napoleon, ‘gracious living?’

‘I’ll tell you something,’ said Tron sombrely, ‘if there is an airlock down there, sooner or later it’s going to explode, and when it does it’ll be like a nuclear bomb going off. There’ll be shit and slosh going in every direction at once, and bits of us with it.’

No one answered the Wendle; there was no need and no time. From some faraway part of the earth came a great rumbling sound. The vaulted roof of the cavern shook and bricks plummeted from it. The river boiled like hot pitch, faster and faster, releasing a vile gas which from its stench might have been nurtured for months in the reeking flesh of a corpse long dead.

‘I can’t breathe,’ cried Sydney. ‘I can’t breathe.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Vulge, wiping the smoky vapour from his eyes, ‘in a little while you won’t have to.’

The rumbling grew louder. A tidal wave of silt reared up and billowed along the river banks, and the Wendles standing there turned and ran into the tunnels, trampling each other underfoot in their eagerness to be gone; and gone they all were in a few turbulent minutes, leaving only the injured and unconscious behind them, some to crawl away and some to be pulled under by the raging waters.

Still the rushing and the roaring came nearer and the whole world shook and a great explosion hurtled up the mine shaft like a locomotive, and the Borribles crawled towards each other on the wheel and flung their bodies together for protection.

Then the explosion burst out in a mighty upheaval and the
treadmill was cast aloft like a pebble, borne upwards on a twisting column of slush that spun and whirled and dipped and swayed like a huge tornado, and the Borribles fought for each breath in the gyrating mud and fought even harder not to be thrown from the wheel and off into the spinning darkness.

Upwards and upwards they went, soaring and gliding a hundred feet high until the wheel was resting lightly on the outermost upthrust of a great pillar of filth. It hovered there for an eternity, balanced between down and up. Then at last, dipping and skimming once more, it swooped away on the crest of a wide and indolent wave that carried it back to the surface of the Wandle flats, where it plunged deep into the river, only to leap into view a moment later with the slime-sodden Borribles still clinging to it; poor black scarecrows coated in muck.

One of the scarecrows weakly raised an arm and tried to shout above the din of the mud storm. It was Knocker and his voice could barely croak. ‘Look, look where we are!’

The others scraped the sticky mire from their eye sockets and saw that the wave had brought them more than two hundred yards downstream and near to the north bank. They struck out with their legs and found that their feet could touch the river bottom.

‘We’re safe,’ cried Chalotte, speaking at last, happiness in her tone now that she realized that she had not killed her friends after all.

Napoleon staggered away from the treadmill. ‘Don’t waste time,’ he shouted. ‘Get out before the explosion stops.’

He was right. Once the great geyser collapsed the mud would flow back into the mine with even greater power, and everything in the Wandle would flow with it until the shaft was full.

Stonks was still the strongest of the Borribles. One by one he grabbed the most feeble of the Adventurers and dragged them to the shore and shoved them up on to the bank. Napoleon first, then Torreycanyon and Orococco, Knocker last. While he did this the others waded to dry land as best they might, stumbling, floundering, leaning on each other until they all fell together in a heap.

‘Never mind resting,’ said Napoleon urgently, and finding the strength from somewhere he forced himself to his knees and laid
hold of the lump of mud next to him. ‘This is Tron, get the other Wendle quick.’

Stonks knew immediately what Napoleon meant but it was impossible to tell one slimy shape from another. It was Norrarf himself who gave the game away, leaping to his feet in panic, and Stonks seized him roughly by the neck and squeezed hard.

‘Don’t let the Wendles get free,’ he yelled, ‘or we’ve had it.’

In spite of Napoleon’s efforts to hold him down Tron stood up easily. ‘Wait a minute, Napoleon,’ he said. ‘Flinthead is dead now, there will be no more war between Borrible and Borrible.’

‘I’ll believe that when I’m out of here, and not before,’ said Knocker.

‘Don’t be idiots,’ said Norrarf, struggling in Stonks’s grip. ‘I was helping Spiff all along wasn’t I? Why should I give you away?’

‘Everything’s changed now,’ said Tron. ‘Besides, you can be sure that the whole Wendle nation thinks we’re dead; nobody stayed to watch exactly, did they?’

Knocker and Napoleon looked at each other. The mud spattered around them and the tornado thundered.

Napoleon shook his head. ‘We’ve been through too much to take any chances … Hold ’em fast and keep yer eyes on ‘em.’

Tron shrugged. ‘I don’t blame you,’ he said, ‘but I can show you that I mean no harm. I’ll take you to a safe way out, a secret way out that only Flinthead and I knew.’

‘Where is it?’ asked Vulge, shouting through the storm.

Tron jerked a thumb over his shoulder. ‘That way, along that tunnel; it’s a manhole that comes out next to the cranes on Feather’s Wharf. It’s not far.’

‘We’ll have a look,’ said Stonks, and he began to help his friends to stand, but before they could set out the depths of the mine reverberated and a second air pocket was heard booming its way to the surface. The swirling geyser faltered and dipped for a moment as if about to break, but then it surged upwards with an even greater strength than before and the Borribles fell back, folding their arms over their heads for protection against the mud that pelted them with the force of hailstones.

Chalotte screamed. ‘Look,’ she gasped, ‘look there!’

Her companions peered through the steady barrage of slime and what they saw harrowed their blood and, after all they had endured, warped their sanity to breaking point.

Rising gracefully up the side of the great whirling tornado, turning slowly as if in some grotesque dance of death, the body of Spiff appeared and close by him came the headless trunk of Flinthead, his brother. Languidly they drifted upwards, changing positions unhurriedly, and just below them floated the box of Rumble treasure, so near that at times the two bodies seemed like effigies standing upon it. Spiralling round and round the tableau ascended, moving to the far side of the whirlwind only to reappear a few seconds later, travelling at the speed of the cyclone but seeming uncannily motionless to the eyes of those who watched.

Chalotte touched her face with shaking fingers. ‘It’s a nightmare,’ she said, ‘a horrible nightmare.’ No one answered her. They stood quite still, all of them, but the horror had not ended. As Flinthead and Spiff revolved in their deathly dance, the lid of the treasure box eased open and, one by one at first and soon in hundreds, bright gold and silver coins began to appear, spread themselves in spangled swathes across the surface of the cyclone and glittered there.

Then the lid of the box opened completely and a thousand banknotes detonated into gaudy streamers and fastened themselves on to this great spinning wall of sewage that turned and turned and drew everything irresistibly towards it. And the paper money shone in all bright colours: green and orange, violet and yellow, amber and pale blue; and the whole whirlwind was festooned with it and so were the bodies of Flinthead and Spiff. It was beautiful.

Chalotte shrieked and the noise shook the Adventurers from their trance.

‘It will suck us in if we stay here,’ she cried, ‘we’re too close; run away.’ In that instant the mine shaft expelled a long and tumultuous sigh. The last of the imprisoned air escaped from the bottom of the pit and the tornado at last stood still, all power gone. Then its outside skin of slush began to slip and slide until finally it fell with a loud crash back into the depths, burying the bodies and the treasure for ever in the Wandle under countless tons of mud,
and huge cowpats came raining down and swamped the Borribles with such a persistent force that they were thrown violently to the ground. Wave after wave reared from the Wandle and threatened to bear them away but they dug their hands into the earth and clung to each other for dear life, and so tightly did they cling that although the river surged and tore and plucked at the Adventurers it could not claim them for all their weakness.

Slowly the clatter ceased and the currents of the river calmed. The tide receded from the banks and the Borribles could raise their heads and look about them. Knocker pushed himself on to his hands and knees; water and slime poured from his limbs.

‘I’ve spent months in this Wandle mud,’ he said. ‘I’ve got to get out of it before I go really and truly mad.’ He stumbled among the others, looking for Tron.

‘Tron, which one are you? Get up.’ Tron rose and Knocker went to him. ‘Get us out of here, just as quickly as you can.’

The remainder of the Borribles struggled upright and Norrarf went to stand by Tron. ‘You can trust us,’ he said. ‘Honest.’

‘Yes,’ said Tron. ‘Follow me, it is not far.’ He put his arm on Norrarf’s shoulder and the two Wendles, walking side by side, led the way into a narrow tunnel.

As Tron had said, the secret escape hole was at no great distance. In less than a quarter of an hour’s march Tron brought everyone to a halt and pointed at the roof. ‘There it is,’ he said.

‘I don’t see no manhole,’ said Bingo.

‘You won’t,’ said Tron. ‘It’s meant to be secret but it’s there and it hasn’t got an SBG man standing on it, neither.’

‘That’s as may be,’ said Stonks, ‘but I’d better go out and have a scout round. If I’m not back in ten minutes you’ll know there’s something wrong.’

‘Suit yerself,’ said Tron, ‘but be careful, it might be daylight.’

‘There’s only one way to find out,’ said Vulge. ‘Let me and Bingo make a step.’

BOOK: Borribles Go For Broke, The

5.19Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Read Book Download Book

ads