The tunnel shook. Dust and bricks fell from the ceiling. The explosion ricocheted around and around the curved walls, spiralling towards them, heaving the earth. Three hundred yards away, the tunnel collapsed, flames roaring through in a great ball that billowed outwards.
The vermin screeched, their attack on the two humans forgotten. They cowered to the ground, a mass of dark quivering bodies, completely still, they themselves now rigid with fear.
Culver rose to his elbows and swiped at a rat nestled on his lap. It fell to one side with a snarling hiss, but did not retaliate.
Another explosion, louder than the first, and the fireball expanded, raced towards them along the tunnel, filling every inch, a swelling yellow that scorched the walls.
The creatures ran, scrabbling over the bodies, slithering past or leaping over Culver and the girl, squealing in alarm,
they themselves the hunted now, the fast-approaching billowing flames the merciless hunter.
Culver was on his feet, lifting the girl, the vermin forming a dark-flowing river around his legs. He ran with her, just a few feet, praying that the recess in which Dealey knelt would offer some protection, the wall of fire hurrying to meet them, eager to incinerate them in its fiery embrace.
It was too near, they could never make it! He jumped the last few feet, the dead weight of the girl unnoticed in his panic.
They crashed into the metal doorway as the flames reached them and Culver felt the searing heat against his skin, licking at his clothes.
It was hopeless. The narrow refuge could offer little protection as the fire swept by. They would all be burnt to a crisp.
And then he was tumbling forward with the others, falling into a different light, the metal door giving way, the scorching flames at his back, dropping, tumbling, over and over and over, never wishing to stop, the world just light and pain and sound...
And then blackness.
'Oh, Jes—'
A gentle hand forced him back down onto the narrow
bunkbed. •
'It's all right,' a voice equally gentle said. You've got a nasty wound in your leg; we're dealing with it.'
Culver looked up into the white face that seemed to hover above him. The woman was frightened - he could just detect the glimmer of alarm hiding behind her outwardly calm gaze - but she worked steadily, professionally, swabbing away the blood from the gash in his thigh.
You were lucky,' she told him. 'Whatever did this just missed the artery.'
You sure?'
She didn't smile. 'If the artery had been severed we'd have both been painted bright scarlet by now.
And you'd be considerably weaker than you appear to be. No, the blood's deep red and it's flowing rather than spurting, so it's not too serious. What did this, anyway?'
He closed his eyes, but the memory became even sharper. 'I don't think you'd believe me.'
The woman stopped working momentarily. 'After today, after this madness, I'm prepared to believe anything and anybody.'
A silence fell between them, one which Culver eventually broke.
There were rats in the tunnels,' he said. 'But like no goddam rats I've ever seen before.'
She looked at him curiously.
They were big, some as big as dogs. They ... they were feeding off people who'd fled into the tunnel.'
They attacked you?'
He nodded. They attacked. It's hard to think ... I don't know how...'
'Some of the engineers heard you pounding on the emergency door. You literally fell in among us.'
He tried to look around him. 'Just who ... what is this place?'
'Officially it's the Kingsway telephone exchange. Equally officially, but not for public knowledge, it's a government nuclear shelter. You happen to be in the sick bay at the moment.'
Over her shoulder, Culver could see other two-tiered bunkbeds. It was a small room with grey walls and ceiling; strip-lighting glared overhead. There were other figures around a bed further down.
The woman followed his gaze. The girl you brought in with you is being treated for shock. I took a look at her first - she doesn't appear to have sustained any serious injuries, just minor cuts and bruises. Her hair is a little singed, but you must have protected her from the fire out there.'
'Fire?'
'Don't you remember? The engineers said the tunnel was ablaze for a few seconds, a fireball of some kind. You'd have all roasted if the door hadn't been opened at the crucial moment. As it was, you were lucky you were wearing a thick leather jacket or your back would have peeled ...'
'Where's Dealey?'
'... the skin on your hands and the back of your neck is scorched...'
'He didn't make it.' Culver sat up.
A hand splayed against his chest and eased him back down again.
'He made it. He's talking with the CDO ...'
The what?'
'Civil Defence officer. Dealey wanted me to take care of you and the girl first.'
‘You know he's been blinded?'
'Of course. With luck, it may only be short-term; it depends on how long he looked into the flash. I assume that's how it happened?'
'Yeah. And it was only for a split-second.'
'He may be fortunate, then. It'll be a long wait for him, though.'
She busied herself tending his wound and for the first time he was aware of his naked legs.
'If it was a rat bite we'll need to disinfect. You'll need an anti-tetanus jab, too,' she muttered. 'Feeling strong?'
'Not particularly. Who are you?'
'Doctor Clare Reynolds.' Still no smile. 'I'm only here for a meeting with Alex Dealey and several others which was scheduled for this afternoon.'
‘You work for the government?'
This time a brief, tight smile flashed. 'I was drafted in when the situation reached crisis point. Normal precautions; nobody thought it would escalate to this. Nobody.'
She turned to a small trolley by her side and poured fluid onto a small pad. Wisps of premature grey mingled with the dark auburn of her hair, which was cut short in a practical rather than glamorous style.
Her features were pinched taut - not surprising in the circumstances - and her pale skin seemed almost anaemic, although that could have been due to the harsh lights above (or again, the circumstances). He noticed she was wearing a wedding ring.
She turned back to him. This is going to sting,' she warned, brushing the soaked pad into the gash.
'Shhhhh—' Culver gripped the sides of the bunk '—iiiiit!'
'No masochist you. Okay, it's done. No need for stitches, just a pad will do. We don't want to bury any infection. You've a mass of smaller wounds and abrasions but no serious burns from the fire. I'll treat them and then I want to put you out for a short time; you've been through a lot.'
Td rather you didn't.'
'Sure you would. Just think yourself lucky to be out of this for a while. What's your name, by the way?'
'Steve Culver.'
'Pleased to know you, Mr Culver. I think we'll be seeing a lot of each other.'
