The Day Before Tomorrow by Nicola Rhodes Read Free Book Online Page B

the lip of the alcove. 
    ‘A dammed good hiding place,’ he thought. 
    He thought for a moment and reached for the rifle slung on his back. Raising it above his head, he poked about with it in the alcove until he managed to dislodge the shiny thing.  It fell with a clatter on the step.  He picked it up curiously.  It was some type of large dagger in an intricately patterned sheath.  The sheath was dull as if it had developed a patina over silver.  It was the handle that was shiny.  He drew it out and looked at it.  The blade was also a dull silver grey colour.  In the dim light, it did not look particularly interesting.  Jamie shrugged and sheathed it again then slung it in his pack.  He would take another look at it later maybe, in a better light. 
    By the time he had ascended the stairs, he had forgotten about it.
    * * *
    ‘Where are we going?’ It was pouring with rain and freezing cold. Cindy’s hair was plastered to her head, her jeans were stuck to her legs, and she was frozen to the marrow and utterly miserable.  The last thing she wanted was to be helping Tamar lever off a manhole cover in the middle of the night.  She had a feeling that this was likely to lead to being cold, wet, miserable and smelly. 
    ‘Down there,’ said Tamar, confirming Cindy’s worst fears. 
    ‘I knew it,’ she said.  ‘Why?’
    ‘I want to see something.’
    ‘In the sewer?’
    The manhole cover came off with a clang.  ‘Come on, at least we’ll be out of the rain.’  Tamar started to climb down the rusty iron ladder.
    Cindy gave a sigh and a shrug and followed her down.  She had long ago given up any pretence at being in control of this situation in the face of Tamar’s overwhelming personality. 
    She made heavy weather of the descent and arrived at the bottom panting, which is difficult to do when you are trying to hold your breath.  Tamar sniffed the air.  Unbelievable, thought Cindy, trying not to smell the air, that was the trick here, surely?
    ‘This way,’ Tamar decided and set off, with Cindy stumbling beside her. 
    After they had walked about 20 yards, Tamar stopped and shone her torch at her feet.  Cindy looked.  To her surprise, there seemed to be another type of cover here, made of wooden slats, which led further down.  Tamar levered it up and peered down.  ‘I think this is it,’ she said. 
    Down this hole there was no proper ladder, just a series of footholds driven randomly into the sides of the hole.  Bits of rock and wood distributed unevenly and not always very securely.  Tamar shinned down easily, and waited patiently for Cindy to slip, stumble and slide down after her.
    The stench hit them as they reached the bottom; it was a foul rank smell, a revolting miasma that rose up, as if from the depths of charnel house.  It bypassed the nostrils and immediately started to melt the brain.  It was the smell of rotting flesh and old blood.
    The smell in the upper level now seemed almost refreshing by comparison.  One missed the beguiling nosegay of human refuse.   
    On the higher level, Cindy had wrinkled her nose and tried not to breathe too deeply.  Down here, she gasped and retched.  She wondered what the hell she was doing here. 
    Tamar was down here because of a particularly strong memory that kept coming back to her.  ‘I have to see if it’s real,’ she said.  ‘Hecaté told me that the answer lies within myself.  I want to see if she was right.’
    Up ahead there were faint lights moving about.  These turned out to be people.  Tamar sighed; she had been hoping that she had been wrong. 
    These people looked curiously at her and Cindy as they approached.  Apart from the fact that they were living under the sewers, most of them seemed like ordinary people.  There were even a few children running about.  Cindy was shocked beyond the capacity for rational thought. These families had built themselves little homes, well rude shelters, divisions between each