A smaller figure, no taller than Will, stepped into view with the stealth of a cat. Even in the poor light they could see the curves of her body under the loose-fitting jacket and pants, clothes similar to those Drake was wearing. She had a sandy-colored scarf, a shemagh, wound around her face and up over the top of her head, obscuring all her features except for her eyes, which did not once look in the boys' direction.
She was carrying a rifle of some kind. She swung it before her and, digging the butt into the ground, leaned against it. It looked heavy, with a thick pipelike barrel on which, midway along, was attached a chunky sight of some description that glinted dully, like unpolished brass. The weapon was almost as tall as she was, and seemed impossibly cumbersome for a girl of her slight frame.
The two boys held their breath, waiting for her to speak, but after a couple of seconds she merely nodded, then swung the chunky rifle onto her back again as if it weighed no more than a length of bamboo.
"Come along," Drake said to them. He made no move to put on their blindfolds again, but left their hands bound. With just the faintest glow from Drake's miner's light to show them where he was, they followed his broad-backed form as he piloted them through an unremittingly monotonous landscape. Despite the lack of landmarks, he seemed to know unerringly which direction they should be taking. After many more hours of this desertlike terrain, they arrived at the edge of the Great Plain at the mouth of a lava tube. They filed down this at some speed. It was almost, Will thought, as if Drake had the ability to see in the dark.
Now in the enclosed space of the tube, they watched the indistinct outline of Drake's head as he went, but on the occasions when Will and Chester glanced behind to see where Elliott was, there was absolutely no sign of her. And no noise, either. Will came to the conclusion that she must have taken another route, or had remained behind for some reason.
The three of them, Drake, Will and Chester, took a left fork and very soon arrived at what appeared to be a cul-de-sac.
Drake drew them to a halt. He turned up his miner's light and stood there facing them, his back to the wall, while Will and Chester peered around uneasily. They could see no reason for stopping. Chester held his breath as Drake suddenly reached to his side and yanked his knife from its scabbard.
"I'm going to free your hands," he said before they had time to think the worst was about to happen. "Here." He beckoned with his knife, and then, as they held up their wrists, sliced deftly through the bindings with single strokes.
"Is there anything in those backpacks that'll be spoiled by water? Food, or anything you want to keep dry?"
Will thought for a second.
"Quickly!" Drake pressed them.
"Yes, there's my notebooks and camera, quite a lot of food, and… and some fireworks," Will replied. "That's in mine." He looked over at his brother's rucksack, which Chester was now carrying. "In Cal's, there's mostly just food."
Before he had finished speaking, Drake lobbed two folded packages at their feet. "Use these. Get on with it."
The boys each picked up a package and shook it out. They were bags, made from a light, waxed material, with two sets of drawstrings on their openings.
Will tipped out his rucksack, rapidly shoving things he wanted to keep dry into the bag. He tightened the drawstrings, then turned to look at Chester, who was unfamiliar with the contents of his backpack and, as a consequence, was taking more time.
"C'mon, will you," Drake growled under his breath.
"Let me do that," Will volunteered, shouldering Chester aside and finishing off the job within seconds.
"Right!" Drake barked. "Is that everything?"
Both boys nodded.
"A word of advice: Next time I suggest you keep at least a pair of socks dry."
They had been so occupied by the task at hand, neither Will nor Chester had given a thought to what was going to happen next.
"Right, sir," Will said. He was comforted by the words next time and the almost paternal advice this complete stranger was giving them.
"Look, I am sir to no one," Drake snapped back, making Will feel uneasy all over again. He hadn't intended to say it — it had slipped out as if he had been addressing a teacher at school.
"Sorry, s—" Will began, managing to cut himself off just in time. He caught the momentary sneer of Drake's lips before the man began to speak again.
"You are going to swim through this." Drake thrust his toe cap at the floor by the foot of the wall. Where the boys had thought there was solid ground, they now saw ripples spread sluggishly under a thick film of dust. It was apparently a small pool, some six feet in diameter.
"Swim?" Chester asked, and swallowed nervously.
"You can hold your breath for thirty seconds, can't you, boy?"
"Yes," Chester stammered.
"Good. This is a small sump that comes up in another passage. It's like a U-bend.."
"Same as at the back of a toilet bowl?" Chester suggested, his voice brittle with apprehension.
"Oh, nice one, Chester," Will said, grimacing.
Drake gave them both a wry glance, then waved them toward the grimy-looking water. "In you go."
Will put his rucksack on his back and approached the pool, hugging the waterproof bag in his arms. He stepped into the sump without hesitation, each step taking him deeper into the tepid water. Then, with a deep breath, he ducked his head under its surface and was gone.
Feeling bubbles brush his face, he pulled himself along using his free hand. He kept his eyes tightly shut, the noise of the water thundering in his ears. Although the tunnel wasn't particularly wide, pinching down to perhaps three feet at its narrowest point, it wasn't proving too difficult to negotiate, either, even with the dual burdens of the rucksack and waterproof bag.
But despite the fact that he thought he was making good progress, Will didn't seem to be getting anywhere. He opened his eyes in the pitch-blackness, which made his heart beat even faster. The water around him felt thick and resistant.
This was his worst nightmare.
Is this all a trick? Should I turn back?
He tried to keep control of himself, but with the lack of air, his body was beginning to rebel. He felt a wave of panic surge through him and began to thrash around, grabbing wildly for anything that would help him move faster. He had to get out of the inky liquid! He moved with a mad desperation now, driving himself forward through the dark waters in a slow-motion sprint.
He wondered for the briefest moments if this was how Drake was going to kill both of them. But in the same instant he told himself that Drake wouldn't have needed to go to all this trouble — it would have been simpler just to slit their throats back on the Great Plain, if that had been his intention.
Although it was probably no more than half a minute, it felt like several lifetimes before Will burst out into the air with a huge splash.
His chest heaving, he fumbled for his lantern and switched it to its lowest level. The muted light didn't reveal much about the place he was in, except he noticed that the ground and the walls appeared to glisten a little when his beam caught them. He assumed this was merely due to moisture on their surfaces. Grateful for the air in his lungs, he waited for Chester.
On the other side of the sump, Chester reluctantly hoisted the rucksack onto his shoulders and began mooching toward the patch of water, dragging the waterproof bag behind him.
"What are you waiting for, boy?" Drake said, his voice hard and uncompromising.