Paralysis Paradox (Time Travel Through Past Lives Adventure Series Book 1) (19 page)

‘Yes, did you know?’

‘I caught sight of something shiny; I suspected it was a crucifix. You were praying to give you strength to put up with me being such a spoilt little bitch, I suppose?’

She sighed and looked down. ‘I was praying for you be kinder to me, yes, amongst other things...It worked: you never reported it. Actually, I wanted to ask you something, Miss Vicky. I wonder, has he called?’

‘Yes, but he is my cousin, so I’m not sure...’

‘Really, is that what they’ve told you?’

Shouting outside interrupted her. Tom was looking for me, and his calls grew louder as he came closer, so I stood up, afraid the door above might burst open any minute. It would not be good to be found praying. Jane stayed kneeling as I started climbing up the steps. ‘You can remember your mother?’ she asked.

Shocked, I stopped before opening the door. ‘Of course, why?’

‘She was a good woman. It’s a shame your father has no photos of her. And families can be fickle. You might not be related by blood at all.’

I looked down into the void, confused, but before I could reply, the door swung open.

‘Oh, there you are.’ Tom could barely hide his impatience. ‘This is no time to play hide and seek, Miss Vicky. Come on, we need to go! And Jane, can you tell my wife to get everything prepared.’

I followed him into the courtyard in a daze, Jane walking close behind, carrying a bucket of ice. Lost in thought, I absentmindedly climbed into one of the small BMWs, and Tom shut the door. Jane had only worked for us for the last few months. She could not be much older than me, so she would have only been a girl herself when my mother was alive. Although I was intrigued about what Jane knew about my mother and the rest of my family, the prayer had helped. Somehow I felt a weight lift as I realised it was more about ending my mourning for Yvette, Hodierna and the others than starting to mourn for Frankie.

School had felt utterly lonely, but I had my books on dambusting and Eleanor to keep me company. I had also learnt much from the wise Adwoliu on my journey to England, and the monks at Canterbury were pleasant enough. But I had pushed away my old pals in Kings Heath. George had disappeared, of course, but the others—well, I mostly avoided them. I needed to, as I had grown closer to Catherine. So close in fact that Charlie was presently in a movie theatre with her.

As the car reversed, I wished I could stay at Deerden longer than a few days and talk to Jane more, but the funeral was tomorrow, and I felt sure I would be packed off soon after.

‘Jane seems nice, doesn’t she?’ I asked.

‘She works hard,’ Tom answered simply, keeping his eyes on the road.

‘Did you know her before she worked here?’

‘Not really. I know her family.’

He was uninterested in talking, which was very disconcerting, as he’d seemed so intent on seeing me. I opened my mouth to ask him what had been so urgent, but he pre-empted me.

‘Don’t be scared, Miss, I’ve got to show you something. You’ll understand soon enough.’

A knot of fear twisted in my stomach. What was so important that he could not just tell me rather than take me there?

The bottom of the car grounded and banged as we hit bumps and potholes along the winding, unused woodland lane before he pulled over. I could see the pylon where Frankie died a few metres ahead.

‘Tom, you can just tell me from here; I don’t need to see where he fell, do I?’

Instead of answering he just raised his eyebrows, reached across me into the glove box, and took out two large, black torches, passing me one before he opened his door. I grabbed my satchel.

‘Leave that, come on,’ he said.

I hesitantly put it back down and got out of the car. My satchel had my mobile phone in it, and I was becoming accustomed to having it with me. I felt safer with it nearby, and Tom was acting all weird. All the same, I left it there, telling myself not to be silly. I had known Tom all my life.

We walked towards the pylon in silence, but with each step my feet grew heavier. I looked at the torch I was holding. I knew this meant we would be heading down those rusty steps. Once we reached the pylon, Tom passed me his torch to hold as he rummaged in the undergrowth and produced a black iron rod, which he used as a lever beneath the metal drain cover to pull it to the side.

‘Switch on the torch and use the wrist strap to carry it,’ he said. ‘I don’t trust the ladder to take both of us at once, so I’ll climb down and shout up for you to follow. Don’t worry, Miss Vicky, you’ll be fine. I won’t let anything happen to you.’

I waited and followed as soon as I heard him call up, not because of what he said but because I was too curious. I had wondered more than a few times about what was down here.

It got very dark very quickly, and the torch kept shining into my eyes, so I had to rely on my hands and feet and my senses. I made sure at least three parts of me were touching the metal at all times. Although my curiosity was driving me into this pit, I could feel my stomach trembling. Reaching the bottom, I peered up at the small rectangle of daylight above us.

‘It looks deeper than it is. We’re probably only twenty feet down or so,’ said Tom, as he moved the light of his torch slowly around the walls. Grey concrete.

Shining my torch on the floor revealed quite a lot of junk and rotten rubbish, and a couple of broken wooden chairs. ‘What is this place?’

‘My father says it’s a bunker from the war. He reckons there would have been one going right under the factory. It seems to be a long corridor, turning at right angles every twenty yards or so. Could probably have fit in hundreds of people, which makes sense.’

‘So has the Mad—I mean, your father been down with you, then?’

‘Well yes, you see this?’ He shone his torch on a wall full of gauges and switches. ‘We reckon that is the control panel to a secret weapon they were testing.’

I laughed. ‘Oh, the bouncing bomb, I’ve read about it, but it’s hardly secret now! It was over fifty years ago, and it never worked anyway.’

‘Well, he seems to think it did.’

‘No offence, Tom, your Dad is hardly, you know, all together...’

I had said the wrong thing. Tom had been in a weird mood, but now something seemed to switch inside him.

‘Shut up and listen for a change,’ he snapped, his face right in mine. ‘It’s time to stop being a know-it-all little rich girl!’

I was shocked. Tom had never spoken to me like this before. I could feel tears welling up, and I was glad of the darkness. I felt chastened. I really hadn’t meant to offend him. The way Tom was with me now reminded me again of Adwoliu. As we rode through Anjou, Normandy and England, we would always avoid the roads and paths, and I would moan that I was tired or tell him off. He would remind me that, prince or not, I knew very little and really should heed the wisdom of my elders. I had learnt that he was mostly right, and I missed his wisdom now that dull monks surrounded me in my Richard life. I had learnt to respect the man more for being honest. Tom had never criticised me, but maybe he’d had good reason to in the past, and perhaps I could have learnt from it.

He sensed my reaction and softened. ‘We only noticed the equipment on our second trip down. I used to be a radar navigator, so I could tell that some of the equipment is for measuring radio pulses. My father always told me about how they used to test the bouncing bomb on the lake, but I knew there was more to this place than that. If I’d known then what I know now, I would never have allowed Frankie and my father to come exploring with me.’ He stopped, and I could sense him struggling to control his emotions. ‘Frankie must have come exploring with my father that day without me. I was fixing the silver BMW’s engine when I heard that he’d gone missing. I just knew, in my gut, that something terrible had happened. I threw down my tools and came here, and this is where I found my father. He seemed to be having some sort of asthma attack and was clutching the bottom of the ladder. Frankie though, I found Frankie further down there...’ He waved his torch in a beckoning motion. ‘Keep your torch pointed down; there’s so much wreckage around that you can easily trip over down here.’

We walked along the dank corridor, turning again and again as it spiralled through the damp earth, until Tom stopped by a heavy-looking round door, slightly ajar.

‘I found Frankie in here. I would never have spotted it, but I heard him crying,’ said Tom, as he heaved opened the door and squeezed through.

Obediently I followed. When inside I could see that we were in a cylindrical room, the ceiling three times as tall as the corridor outside. It was some sort of silo. Tom shone his torch into a small puddle in the middle of the room that glistened as black as the floor shone white. He put his arm across me, as if to bar my passage.

‘That is where I found Frankie. I could see he was shaking and I could smell burning flesh. Oh Vicky, that was a smell I had hoped I would never smell again. I knew it from my Air Force days. That’s how I met your father; he was my surgeon after the accident.’

He paused, and again I could see him struggling to fight back emotions that were clearly threatening to overwhelm him. I moved the torch over the floor, curious that it was covered in a white powder. I could see several footprints leading to the puddle. Some from a boy, others from a man. After a while, he continued.

‘Anyway, I carried poor Frankie out and managed to get him to the ladder. But his crying turned to whimpering, and he went limp before I climbed out of the top. I’m so sorry, you see—it’s all my fault!’

‘But everyone thinks he fell off the pylon?’ I asked, confused and upset.

‘Well, once I got him out, I took him back to the house. I hoped your father could help, but it was too late. Frankie was dead. I told everyone I found him under the pylon because I didn’t want the police to start investigating this bunker and me and my dad. I didn’t want them blaming us. Especially my father. He wouldn’t be capable of defending himself.’

‘Where is your father?’

‘I don’t know. I came back here later that night, but he was gone.’

‘He’s missing?’

‘Yes. I’m hoping that he got away and is keeping a low profile. Either that or he was taken.’

‘
Taken?
Taken by who?’ As the words tumbled out of my mouth, I thought I saw a flash of light by the puddle and directed the beam of my torch to join Tom’s. The puddle looked strange, more like oil than water. It reminded me of something.

I took a step closer, feeling the powder crunch beneath my feet. Tom’s arm pushed against me.

‘Don’t, Miss; it will burn you!’

‘You really think this puddle killed Frankie?’

‘I’ve followed the wires from the control panel, and they all lead to this room. I think that whatever weapon they were working on has caused that puddle, and yes, Frankie was right beside it, covered in burns. I’m guessing it’s highly radioactive.’

‘Is it...
moving?
’

‘Well yes, it seems to be some sort of mercurial liquid in motion. Watch this.’ Tom switched off his torch. ‘And yours,’ he added.

I did as he instructed, and we were plummeted into total darkness, but this darkness was soon interrupted, as every few seconds a blue or white spark jumped out of the puddle. The sparks seemed to be jumping in our direction. I switched on my torch and gasped, as the puddle’s shape had changed.

‘It’s coming towards us!’

‘Don’t be—’

But I was already climbing out through the silo-hatch. Tom followed close behind, and at times his torch would shine ahead or across my beam, but even his presence did not reassure me. I stumbled along the corridors, back to that rusty ladder. I became intensely conscious of my breathing and felt as if the concrete walls themselves were collapsing in on me. Overcome with that overly familiar feeling of dread, I was relieved once I got to the ladder and could see the rectangle of natural blue light above me.

‘Wait, Miss!’ Tom called, sounding out of breath.

‘Tom, this place is dangerous, I need to leave!’ I started my ascent.

‘But it’s safe to talk here—you need to know about this place and about yourself before...’

‘Tell me later!’ I shouted back down at him.

Once at the top, I crawled out and rolled onto my back, my hand upon my chest as I tried to slow my breathing and calm myself.

‘Are you out, Vicky?’ Tom’s voice echoed up through the bunker as I felt ice-cold raindrops splash onto my face. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

Adwoliu knew his storm clouds.

‘Yes!’ I shouted before getting up and dashing towards the car to escape the weather.

Finding the door unlocked, I climbed in and instinctively checked my mobile phone. Six missed calls from my father. Something wasn’t right. I did a ring back.

‘Vicky, where are you?’

‘I’m with Tom, why?’

‘I need you to get away from him and come home now!’

‘What do you mean?’ I waited a moment for his reply. I could hear chattering in the background.

‘Can Tom hear me?’ Dad asked, his voice an octave lower.

‘No, I’m in the car. Alone. What’s happened? Should I run?’