Tunnels

more.'

They worked together and within moments had removed enough bricks for Will to slither through headfirst. He landed with a muffled groan.

'Will, are you all right?' Chester called.

'Yes. Just a bit of a drop,' he replied. 'Come in feetfirst, and I'll guide you down.'

Chester made it through after a tremendous struggle, his shoulders being broader that Will's. Once he was in, they both began to look around.

It was an octagonal chamber, with each of its eight walls arching up to a central point about twenty feet above their heads. At its apex was what appeared to be a carved stone rose. They shone their flashlights in hushed reverence, taking in the Gothic beading set into the perfectly laid brickwork. The floor was also constructed from bricks laid end on end.

'Awesome!' Chester whispered. 'Who'd have ever expected to find anything like this?'

'It's like the crypt of a church, isn't it?' Will said. 'But the strangest thing is…'

'Yes?' Chester shone his flashlight at Will.

'It's absolutely bone-dry. And the air's sort of sharp, too. I'm not sure—'

'Have you seen this, Will?' Chester interrupted, flicking his light around the floor and then over the wall nearest to him. 'There's something written on the bricks. All of them!'

Will immediately swiveled around to study the wall closest to him, reading the elaborate Gothic script carved into the face of every brick. 'You're right. They're names: James Hobart, Andrew Kellogg, William Butts, John Cooper…'

'Simon Jennings, Daniel Lethbridge, Silas Samuels, Abe Winterbotham, Caryll Pickering… there must be thousands in here,' Chester said.

Will pulled his mallet from his belt and began to knock on the walls, taking soundings to see if there was any sign of a hollow or adjoining passage. He had methodically tapped away at two of the eight walls when for no apparent reason he suddenly stopped. He clapped a hand to his forehead and swallowed hard.

'Do you feel that?' he asked Chester.

'Yeah, my ears popped,' Chester agreed, sticking a gloved finger roughly into one of his ears. 'Just like when you take off in a plane.'

They were both silent, as if waiting for something to happen. Then they felt a tremor, an inaudible tone, somewhat akin to a low note played on an organ — a throbbing was building, seemingly within their skulls.

'I think we should get out.' Chester looked at his friend blankly, swallowing now not because of his ears but because of the waves of nausea welling up inside him.

For once Will did not disagree. He gulped a quick yes, blinking as spots appeared before his eyes.

They both clambered back through the gap in double-quick time, then made their way to the armchairs in the main cavern and slumped down in them. Although they had said nothing of it to each other at the time, the inexplicable sensations had ceased almost immediately after they were outside the chamber.

'What was that in there?' Chester asked, opening his mouth wide to flex his jaw and pressing the palms of his hands against his ears.

'I don't know,' Will replied. 'I'll get my dad to come and see it — he might have an explanation. Must be a pressure buildup or something.'

'Do you think it's a crypt, from where a church once stood… with all those names?'

'Maybe,' Will replied, deep in thought. 'But somebody — craftsmen, stonemasons — built it very carefully, not even leaving any debris behind as they went, and then just as carefully sealed it up. Why in the world would they go to all that trouble?'

'I didn't think of that. You're right.'

'And there was no way in or out. I couldn't find any sign of connecting passages — not a single one. A self- contained chamber with names, like some sort of memorial or something?' Will pondered, completely befuddled. 'What are we on to here?'

8

Having learned that Rebecca could be very unforgiving and that it was really not worth incurring her wrath — not just before mealtimes, at any rate — Will shook himself down and stamped the worst of the mud from his boots before bursting in through the front door. Slinging his backpack to the floor, he froze in astonishment, the tools inside still clattering against one another.

A very odd scene greeted him. The door to the living room was closed, and Rebecca was crouched down beside it, her ear pressed to the keyhole. She frowned the moment she saw him.

'What—' Will's question was cut short as Rebecca rose swiftly, shushing him with a forefinger to her lips. She seized her bemused brother by the arm and pulled him forcibly into the kitchen.

'What's going on?' Will demanded in an indignant whisper.

This was all very odd indeed. Rebecca, the original Little Miss Perfect, was in the very act of eavesdropping on their parents, something he would never have expected from her.

But there was something even more remarkable than this: the living room door itself. It was closed. Will turned his head to look at it again, not quite believing his eyes.

'That door had been wedged open for as long as I can remember,' he said. 'You know how she hates —'

'They're arguing!' Rebecca said momentously.

'They're what? About what?'

'I'm not sure. The first thing I heard was Mum shouting at him to shut the door, and I was just trying to hear more when you barged in.'

'You must have heard something.'

Rebecca didn't answer him immediately.

'Come on,' Will pressed her. 'What did you hear?'

'Well,' she started slowly, 'she was screaming that he was a royal failure… and that he should stop wasting his time on complete nonsense.'

'What else?'

'Couldn't hear the rest, but they were both very angry. They were sort of growling at each other. It must be really important — she's missing Friends!'

Will opened the fridge and idly inspected a container of yogurt before putting it back. 'So what could it be about, then? I don't remember them ever doing this before.'

Just then the living room door was flung open, making both Will and Rebecca jump, and Dr. Burrows stormed out, his face bright red and his eyes thunderous as he made a beeline for the cellar door. Fumbling with his key and muttering incomprehensibly under his breath, he unlocked it and then banged it shut behind him.

Will and Rebecca were still peering around the corner of the kitchen door when they heard Mrs. Burrows shouting.

'YOU'RE GOOD FOR NOTHING, YOU PATHETIC FOSSIL! YOU CAN STAY DOWN THERE AND ROT FOR ALL I CARE, YOU STUPID OLD RELIC!' she shrieked at the top of her lungs as she slammed the living room door with an almighty crash.

'That can't be good for the paintwork,' Will said distantly.

Rebecca was so intent on what was happening, she didn't appear to have heard him.

'God, this is so freakin' annoying. I really need to talk to him about what we found today,' he continued, grumbling.

This time she did hear him. 'You can forget that! My advice is to just stay out of the way until things blow over.' She stuck out her chin with great self-importance. 'If they ever do. Anyway, the food's ready. Just help yourself. In fact, you can help yourself to the whole thing… I don't think anyone else is going to have an appetite.'

Without a further word, Rebecca spun around and left the room. Will moved his eyes from the empty