"How long is this tunnel again?" I ask. It's hard to keep the trepidation from my voice, even though I try to be brave for Anastasia's sake. But it isn't every day that you have to cross an ocean by going underneath it. Not to mention that it's through a tunnel built in the the Age that Has Been and stood through the World Enders, supposedly intact.
"31.4 miles," our guide, Evan, answers impatiently. He is walking briskly at the front, the reflective straps of his suspiciously empty backpack reflecting the light from my torch. I can hear Anastasia swallows loudly behind me; she's worried too, no doubt. After all, who knows when the tunnel would decide to collapse? I don't think these people think about maintenance at all.
The tunnel is a manifestation of depression itself. It's humid, dark, gloomy and every step results in a loud crunch as the gravels shifts. The sound echoes loudly and it builds up to a never ending concerte with the dripping sound of water. We have been following the train tracks for a long time now, keeping a quick pace so that we can clear the tunnel within the day. Evan assured us that we don't want to spend the night here, although if we have to it won't be the end of the world.
The feeling of being exiled is weighing heavily on my heart. True to his words, Grandpa already had someone lined up that can offer us a way to cross over to continental Europe. It's such an insane idea, to travel away from the one place that I have known my entire life, cross an ocean and try to find some long lost relatives. There is no going back too; not unless I can save up enough for the channel fee. Grandpa refuses to tell me how much it costs, saying that he has been anticipating for this cost since before I was born. But I knew that it took away all thirty years' saving. How would I ever be able to get that much?
"Akram," Anastasia calls my name softly. She couldn't stay here with my family because it will raise questions, and she doesn't want to either. With her power, it's decided that she'd come with me for safety ad for a better pretense. We are pretending to be brother and sister who are trying to reach France to find their distant relatives. Which for the most part is true.
"Yes?" I turn to look at her quickly but keep my pace up. The idea of spending a night in this tunnel really doesn't appeal to me. Anastasia holds my gaze for a second, before dropping her head again. She has been quiet the entire time, only insisting that she doesn't want to stay in London. I don't know what to say to her either; she has been through a lot and I am going to give her time and space to clear her head.
"Why did you let me come?" she asks. I haven't expected her to ask me something like that, and the unexpected question has me pausing for a second.
"I haven't really thought about that," I admit. It just seems like the logical thing to do. She has nobody left, it isn't safe for her to remain, and she wanted to come. But that's more. "I guess I just don't want to do this alone," I finally answer.
"Me neither," Anastasia replies and we fall silent again. The moment feels oddly intimate, and I definitely feel like we are closer than we were before. It is strange how a girl that I have only just met a few days ago is now the only companion I have left, the only one who knows where I come from and my family. The only tangible link to my past and my present, and a future that's full of uncertainty.
I grimace and shake my head. What on Earth am I thinking about? This sudden change has got my head in a tailspin; I am not one that would usually think so much about my life and feelings, but it's hard not to get sentimental when you are leaving behind your family.
"It's okay," Anastasia suddenly says. I turn and find that she's smiling at me. The first smile I have ever seen on her face. I stare at her for a moment, seeing a glimpse of who Anastasia is before everything that has happened. Not wanting to alarm her, I give her a quick smile back before carrying on. Evan has speed on ahead and the two of us break into a light trot to catch up.
As we continue on the monotonous journey, my mind keeps replaying my parting with my family. The way Mama had cried; how Papa had voluntarily hugged him and it was brutal to say goodbye to everyone. Arielle was still delirious; she had no idea where she was or who we were. I couldn't even say goodbye to her probably. Andre didn't seem to know what was really happening either, but Candice caught on. She held onto my shirt until the end, making me promise that I would go back. I wish I can. No; I will. I will go back. I will find a way to fix Arielle and I will go back to be with my family.
But right now, I need to survive this bloody tunnel.
It's difficult not to glance up at the tunnel top every now and then. My entire body is tense at the possibility that it can crush down any moment, burying us all alive. But Evan doesn't seem worry, and I seek a little comfort in that.We met with a guy near the old airport in London, who didn't even give us his name and took us on day long hike along the train tracks. I had never in my life walked out in the open for so long, but he had a gun with him.
We reached an abandoned train station that night and stayed with a group of wild-looking people. They seemed to know the guy with us and despite not feeling safe, I managed to grab some much-needed sleep. We reached the small congregation near the tunnel entrance on the nightfall of the next day and rested there for a day. It was to make sure that we are ready for going in the tunnel. The entire time I can't help but feel on edge, but with Anastasia's power and mine, we should be able to get away with most attacks. But that doesn't include a collapsing tunnel.
"I heard you're from London," Evan suddenly speaks up. I nod, not sure if I want to talk to him.
"What's it like there? Do people really kill each other all the time?" Evan asks. I stare at him. Is that how people think of London?
"No, we don't," I answer. Evan seems disappointed and his enthusiasm is making me a bit uncomfortable. "We have fights, but I haven't heard of a killing for years."
"Yeah, but that's only your part, right?" Evan continues probing. He really is unnaturally interested in this. Anastasia's footstep turned a little erratic behind us, and I think that maybe Evan had hit a nerve.
"So I take it things are different here," I divert the subject. Evan shrugs, going back to the uninterested person, but he sure needs to give me at least some answer after I have answered his weird questions.
"It's less exciting, but we get by fine if we're careful," Evan's answer is about as generic as the gravels under my feet. "I mean, it isn't like we are 100% safe, but at least we got a good base and good routine."
I nod at that; that part I can understand. I really don't know how the nomadic communities do it; not knowing where you can get food, where is safe and a place you can always go back to. It's a safe topic, so I start talking to Evan about it.
"You know what, I have been seeing less of them," Evan muses. He'd admit that he doesn't understand the idea of a travelling group either, so it's a good place to bound. Mama had urged me to talk to people I meet and establish a connection, it'll make them less incline to hurt us, she said. So I am doing what I'm told.
Anastasia comes closer at Evan's words; she seems to be drawn to this conversation and more alert than I had seen before. "So how many of these groups have you seen?"
Evan perks up a little and I wondered if it's because he is talking to a girl or if this is a topic that he loves. "We use to see a couple every year passing by, but lately there have been less and less. We have only seen one group for the past two years."
Anastasia looks thoughtful, and I remember the strange killing that we found around Lour part of London in the past two years. Is something more sinister happening? Does this have anything to do with those government remnants?
"So how often do you do this?" I ask. I am genuinely curious about this group of people. Most of us exist by being in our neighbourhood, but I am guessing this group gets a fair amount of their resources through this. And just how have they managed to take claim to this tunnel?
"I'm not really allowed to talk about this with you," Evan replies immediately. But I don't get the particular sense of guardedness from him. Curiously now, I try to think of a way to get him to talk without him thinking that he'd actually be giving something away.
My hand reaches for the letter in chest pocket; Grandpa's letter to his sister, if we manage to find her in Paris. There's also an address as well, of a house in a neighborhood called Montmartre. Despite our success in reaching the tunnel from London, I am still wary about the rest of the trip from Calais to Paris.
Anastasia squeals behind me and I turn around quickly, my arms shooting up and poise to retaliate. But I see nothing except a cringing girl.
Anastasia points to the floor and I gasp. A row of rats, giant rats are snaking their way along one of the metal track. Evan pauses in his track as well, shining his torch at the long chain in front of us. The rats don't seem to mind the light, but their sheer number and size are disconcerting.
"Is this normal?" I ask our guide. Evan half shake his head and half shrug, which isn't much of an answer. I resist the urge to blast something on them, knowing that if I aggravate them we will be drowning in tiny crawls and deadly diseases.
"We try to keep their number down with poison, but they always come back," Evan's voice has an edge of nervousness in them. I reach a hand out to Anastasia, who let me grab her without protest and I tug her forward. The fast we reach the end of this rat line, the better.
Evan shares our wish and the three of us all but jog down the tunnel on the other side, keeping as much distance as we can between the rats without wedging into the dirty water collecting on the other side. They really need to repair this tunnel before it goes down for good.
"I have only seen this many before once," Evan continues. He's obviously rattled as well, and this might be the opportunity I need to learn more about their community. "And it's not good. They are unstable like this and if they think we are a threat, they'll attack us."
At that thought, all of us speed up. But I'd be damned if I don't get some answers. "How many do you usually see?" I ask. An innocent enough question. Anastasia scoots closer to me as the endless line of rats continues to migrate past us.
"A couple skirting around, at most tens or twenties of them. But that this is like an entire family on the move..." Evan trails off. He face has become white as the overcast England sky, and his right hand is twitching uncontrollably. "We should hurry up."
Neither of us needed much encouragement to break into a jog, keeping our torch hand steady as we trotted forward. His nervousness only confirms the lack of safety and I really would rather not suffer a death by rats. I try to recall how long we have been walking in the tunnel, but the monotonous journey has been so dull that I can't even recall the hours.
"How long is it until we reach the end?" I ask and cast a cautionary glance at the line of rates. Still there. Seriously, how many rats can survive in an underground tunnel with no food? Evan doesn't answer me for a while and I curse internally. But I am also kind of glad that my family isn't here. Grandpa would never be able to make the run and I doubt Mama would too.
"About an hour or two if we run all the way," Evan replies. I curse under my breath. For now, it seems nothing bad is happening, but who know what might happen the next second?
"We should have taken a boat or something," I mutter under my breath. Somehow Evan hears me and laughs.
"No you don't; I have never met anyone who has successfully cross the ocean," he replies. Even though we are jogging, he seems to be pretty at ease. He seems more present, more human than he was before, which is a good thing despite the circumstances that brought it about.
"What do you mean?" Anastasia speaks up. Evan, whose guard towards us has gone way down, answers quickly.
"Never seen a ship all my life. My parents said they have never seen one that has gone out and come back alive. T'is the only reason why we get so much business," he answers. I share a look of alarm with Anastasia; Evan might not find that surprising, but I know that ships across the channels used to be a frequent occurrence. Their disappearance must mean something, but I can't put a finger on it. Surely the World Enders can't be a direct cause of unsailable water?
"So this is pretty much the only way you can cross over?" I muse out loud. Evan nods like it's the most natural thing in the world. But I can tell there's something more at play. But right now, the first priority is to make a run for it and avoid the rats. I have learned something new today, and I wonder if we already have such a different perspective here, what would Paris be like?
----------------------------------------
A few of you are probably wondering why people don't cross often, here's why:
The world has "ended", there's no safe way to travel. ou are doing well where you are, would you move? The answer is no.
Unless you have a strong reason to.
Alas - I'm taking The Dark Ages to NaNoWriMo, and I'm pretty excited about it! I've just finished rewriting Selection as well (that was a LOT of work - I need to write cleaner first drafts), and hoping to get it self-published by the first quarter of next year.
What do you think of their trip to Paris? I mean, the world, at that stage, isn't quite as dangerous yet as the Legres and POEs have yet to emerge. But that's what makes it more turbulent!
Don't forget to vote and comment - oh and add this to your library! And the trilogy as well - I'm working on some novella so you don't want to miss them.