The Girl Below by Bianca Zander Read Free Book Online Page A

flames, disjointed from their bodies, fireflies flitting around in the dark.
    “Fucking hell!” It was Dad, his voice booming in the echo chamber. “It’s like a swimming pool down here.”
    “Pardon your French,” said Mum, tut-tutting behind me.
    “You probably shouldn’t come any farther,” called Dad. “The bottoms of my jeans are soaked.”
    “Hold my hand,” said Mum, and I reached out but couldn’t find her.
    Jean Luc exclaimed something in French, but it was lost in a long, groaning, scraping noise coming from above, the sound of iron grating against concrete, followed by a dull metallic clang. On the clang, a thick cloak of darkness settled over us. I blinked furiously, willing my eyes to find light, but there was none, only the faint orange bruise of a candle flame deep in the chamber.
    Mum called out first, to let the others know the hatch had been shut, and a terrible racket followed, the grown-ups shouting a torrent of rude words and abuse, whatever they could think of to will the hatch open. When that didn’t work, there was a scramble of limbs on the narrow staircase as the men swapped places with the women. Dad pushed past me to get to the top, followed by Jean Luc and Henri, which left Mum and me to shuffle backward, and downward, farther into the hole. Someone shoved a candle in my direction and told me to hold on to it, and though a spray of hot wax scalded my fingers I didn’t dare let go.
    After we had exchanged places, Mum was above me on the stairs, and I was at the bottom of the group, closest to the water and whatever else was down there. I swung round to face the chamber and breathed in air that was thick and smelled of the earth, as if my face was being pushed into garden soil. Not wanting to take my eyes off the black space, I stepped backward up the stairs toward Mum, but lost my foothold and slid in the opposite direction. The candle flew from my hand and blew out, and for a few seconds, I too was airborne before landing in a puddle of freezing-cold water. From my mouth came a crunching sound, as if I’d bitten down on gravel, and a second later, my jaw exploded with pain. Hot liquid pooled in my throat, and I tried to breathe but gagged. The surrounding water was gritty with sediment and I shivered as it rose over my limbs. I reached for the glasses that should have been on my face, but they had come off in the fall.
    I screamed then, a shrill gargle that ricocheted around the stone chamber and echoed back to me, louder and disembodied, as though the sound had come from two people, not just me. I could hear Mum groping toward me down the stone steps, but she had no candle and splashed around in the dark, as good as blind.
    “Suki!” she called out. “Where are you?”
    Her voice was coming from too far away. Something was wrong. I was on the opposite side of the bunker from my mother, a long way from where I should have fallen. I had been standing right next to her, had only slipped from the bottom step, yet a cavernous space now separated us. I reached for her anyway, and called out—only my words were treacle, slow and thick. The pain that had started in my jaw was growing to fill my whole head and I realized I was panting but getting no air. I thought perhaps it was the locket chain that was choking me, but even after I’d loosened it, I couldn’t breathe.
    “Wait there, Suki,” said my mother, her voice growing shrill. “I can’t see. I’ll come back for you, stay where you are.”
    “No!” I yelled. “Don’t leave me here. Please.” But my voice made no sound. I was mute, trapped in silence behind thick glass at the far end of a long, dark room. My head grew heavy, then leaden, and rolled to one side and sank in a halo of cold water. The pain fanned out from my head, my chest, pinning down my limbs, but at the center of it, I was shrinking, becoming a wisp. Then the wisp wasn’t there at all, only a chill.
    When I came to, a candle quivered somewhere