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limbs aching, but keen to be moving. They waded after Culver through the filthy water, the foul smell considerably less unpleasant than the other odours of that day. It was difficult to walk, for the sluggish water leadened their feet, and the constant crouching put added stress on their legs. Yet it was a relief when the sounds of the vermin faded behind them.

They splashed onwards, water trickling through to the channel from other, smaller outlets on either side.

The curving walls were covered in lichen and repulsive to touch; here and there, brickwork had fallen inwards, leaving dark impenetrable gaps. Soon a new sound reached their ears and they paused to listen.

'It's rushing water,' Dealey said. There must be a main sewer ahead of us.'

'And a way out,' added Ellison.

'Yes, there has to be.'

Their pace quickened and the rushing noise quickly became a mild roar. They stumbled on, ignoring the small things that bumped against their shins, the occasional pocket of gaseous fumes, constantly slipping on the smooth floor beneath the water, but rising to their feet instantly, not stopping to regain breath or rub bruised knees. It wasn't long before they entered the bigger centre channel.

It was at least twelve feet across, the ceiling curved and high. On either side of the swift-moving stream, its spumes-cent surface littered with debris, were causeways wide enough to walk on. As they shone the flashlights in either direction, they saw other conduits and outlets spilling their contents into the main sewer.

They stepped up onto the causeway on their side, each of them feeling a sudden lift in spirits at this new sight.

We're lucky,' Dealey said over the noise. This tunnel

must have been completely flooded when the rainfall was at its worst.'

'I can't see any ladders.' Fairbank was shining his torch more carefully in one direction, then the other.

Culver did the same to add more light.

There'll be some further along. I would think there's a storm weir in that direction ...' Dealey indicated the water's flow'... so we may find a way out along there.'

Culver felt a hand slide round his waist and looked down to see Kate gazing up at him.

'Are we safe now?' she asked, her eyes imploring.

He couldn't lie. 'Not yet. Soon, though.' He briefly pulled her to his chest and kissed her hair. 'Keep your eyes open,' he told them all. Then he was moving on once again, the others filing close behind.

The rushing water reminded him of the flooded Underground tunnel and his mind wandered back further, to the desperate race against the fallout, the journey along the railway track - the first encounter with the mutant rats. And his first sight of the terrified, frozen girl who was Kate. He thought of the long, trouble-strewn days inside the Kingsway shelter, the first expedition into the shattered world above. The dying, begging people. The rabid dog. Bryce. He remembered the fight back against the floodwaters, the rebellion inside the shelter itself. And then the invasion of rats, the flooding of the Exchange, the terrible struggle to escape. He thought of Dr Clare Reynolds.

Strangely, this day and the day before were just a mad, turbulent blur, with no order, no sense. An insane jumble of visions and stenches. Mixed with death.

One element was common throughout, apart from the weeks of waiting inside the shelter: since the first bomb had dropped he had been running, running, running. Even now

he had not stopped and he began to wonder if he ever would, for there would be more danger to face in the new world outside, where only the insects and scavenger beasts could thrive. Perhaps there were no more places left where people could rest.

'Hey! You missed something! Over there.' Fairbank was casting his beam towards the opposite causeway.

Culver aimed his own flashlight in that direction and saw the opening, a passageway beyond. He could just make out stone steps further back. 'Any idea where it could lead?' he asked Dealey.

'Impossible to say. It's not a channel or a drain.'

Culver stared down into the spume-flecked water. We can't risk crossing here. We'll have to go on.'

'Not much further, though,' Kate said excitedly. 'Look, there's a gangway across.'

Deep in thought, Culver had missed both the opening and the small, causeway-connecting bridge in the near distance. They hurried towards it, and found the structure was made of iron, narrow in width, and with just a spindly handrail on one side.

'It has to be fairly close to that passageway for a reason,' commented Ellison. 'It's gonna take us out of here, I know it'

Culver led the way across, testing the bridge's safety with every step. The metal surface was rusted but firm, although the handrail itself wobbled uncertainly. They hurried back the way they had come, this time on the opposite bank, and soon reached the opening. The passageway was at least eight feet high and wide enough for two men to walk along comfortably side by side. The glistening wet stone stairway at the end of the passage was easily visible in the illumination of both flashlights.

It led upwards, into the ceiling.

Kate clutched Culver's arm. 'It's the way out! It has to be!'

Fairbank whooped with glee and even Dealey managed to smile.

What the hell are we waiting for?' cried Ellison, and Culver had to restrain him from charging forwards.

There's a whole network of sewers, conduits and pipes all around us - not to mention passageways such as this. Those rats could be anywhere by now: above, behind or ahead of us. It's their territory, so let's just take it quiet and easy.'

He moved to the foot of the steps and shone the torch upwards. Just beyond ceiling level was another opening, a doorway. He began to mount the stairs, taking them slowly, one at a time. The others, heeding his warning but nevertheless impatient, crowded behind him.

Culver reached the top and saw the door itself was old and rotted, a rusted metal sheet battened to its surface. It was open about two feet. He shone in the beam and saw another long corridor. Like the previous one, puddles covered the floor and its walls were of old, crumbling brickwork. It appeared to stretch a long way.

Culver pushed at the metal and the door ground protest-ingly against the stone floor, shifting only a few inches. Wary of what could be on the other side, he slipped through. No half-eaten corpse held the door open.

The others came in after him, shivering anew with the dank cold. Culver examined the lock and found an open bolt, rusty with years of dampness.

This is an entrance for the sewer workers and inspectors,' declared Dealey. 'It probably leads to an exit along the Embankment, or somewhere in the vicinity.'

'I thought they used manholes,' said Fairbank.

'Of course not. They have to bring in equipment for repairs and suchlike, as well as large work crews.'

Why would the door be unlocked?' asked Culver.

'Negligence probably. You can see the door's been warped out of shape by dampness. I doubt anyone found it necessary to lock it anyway. Sewers aren't generally frequented by trespassers, are they?'

'No,' Culver agreed, 'but I'd feel safer if we got it closed. Remember what's chasing us?'

Fairbank lent his weight when Culver put his shoulder to the door. It closed reluctantly, the movement echoing back from the far end of the passageway. Culver shot the rusty bolt with some satisfaction.

Their footsteps were less hurried as they tramped along the lengthy corridor, not because their fear had left them -although it was not quite as acute as before - but because weariness was finally asserting a stronger grip, adrenalin losing its power.

Another door greeted them at the far end, and this one was locked. A hefty kick from Culver opened it.

They found themselves in a spacious room with several doorways around the walls.

'Ah, now I think I understand,' said Dealey.

The others regarded him curiously.

We've come back to a part of the old World War Two shelter. This must be the second level, just below the section we first entered. I was wrong about the passageway we've come through; it wasn't for sewer workers. It was meant as a means of escape should whoever inhabited this shelter be trapped.

The whole region is catacombed with chambers such as this. When you consider how long ag—'

Take a look!' The coldness in Fairbank's voice startled them all. He was sweeping his flashlight along the floor.

At first they thought the objects lying there were just debris, pieces of mislaid junk left by previous generations of occupiers. When they looked closer the chill inside them all deepened.

The first object to take on an identity was a severed arm, all but one of the fingers missing. The next was the remains of a head, one empty eyesocket bored into and enlarged as though something had been dragged out. A piece of putrid flesh that may once have been a thigh lay close by. The human parts lay scattered around the floor, white bones reflecting the torch lights, dried and shrivelled meat lumps standing alone like strangely shaped rocks on a desert of dust.

The familiar dread returned, only this time more potently, for they were weakened, exhausted, close to total hysteria. Culver caught Kate as she sagged. She did not faint entirely, but that unconscious state was not far away.

Ellison began to head back towards the door through which they had just arrived and Culver brought him to a sudden halt.

'No!' The pilot's voice was firm, almost angry. We're going on. We didn't come across any rats on our way into the old shelter, so I figure it's our safest way out. Nothing's making me go back into the sewers.'

The words rebounded off the empty walls, as if to mock him.

He continued determinedly, "We're going to walk straight through this, right to the other end of this room. There's a doorway there and with any luck, a stairway beyond. Just look straight ahead and don't stop for anything.'

Culver set off, supporting Kate, keeping her walking, her head tucked into his chest. The arm around her shoulder clutched the Browning, its muzzle held erect, ready to swing

down into action. He kept the flashlight in his other hand aimed directly at the far doorway. Someone behind stumbled and he looked around to see Dealey on one knee, a skull, with the back of its cranium cracked open like a hatched egg, rolling to a stop a few feet away.

'Get up and keep walking,' Culver commanded, his voice tight. 'Don't stop for anything,' he repeated.

But they did stop.

As one.

When they heard the child crying.

The group stood as a rigid tableau among a macabre landscape of human remnants, listening to the pitiful crying. Culver closed his eyes against both the sound and the new pressure. He wanted to be free of this sinister madhouse, this vault of atrocities, but there was no clear escape, no relief from the mental tortures it inflicted upon them. His only desire was to take Kate's hand and run, never stopping until daylight bathed their faces, until clean air filled their lungs. Yet he knew it wasn't possible. He would have to find the child first.

They listened, feeling wretched with the plaintive cry. The wailing was high-pitched, possibly that of a little girl.

'It's coming from over there,' someone said at last.

They looked to the right, towards an opening that had been boarded up with heavy planks, the bottom section broken inwards. The wood appeared to have been gnawed.

The crying continued.

'I don't think it's wise to stay,' said Dealey, looking around anxiously at the others.

Then go to Hell,' said Culver in a low voice.

He felt a slight resistance from Kate when he moved away; then she was moving with him. The others reluctantly joined them at the boarded doorway. Culver and Fairbank shone their flashlights through the gaps between the planks

of wood and peeked in. The far wall was at least forty feet away and the room itself was bare of furniture, like the chamber they stood in. Fairbank aimed his beam low and tapped Culver's shoulder.

The stone floor of the room had collapsed inwards, leaving a ridge of jagged concrete around its circumference, with broken, exposed joists protruding. Below was a pit filled with rubble.

The sad, despairing cries tore at their nerves.

The kid's somewhere below,' Fairbank said.

Culver called out. 'Can you hear us? Are you on your own?'

The crying stopped.

'It's all right. We'll come down to get you! You're safe now!'

Silence.

The poor little sod is terrified out of her mind,' said Fairbank.

Culver began to pull at the planking. The rotted wood came away easily, breaking into long, damp splinters. The crying began again.

It was an eerie sound, the emptiness of the surroundings giving it a peculiar resonance, as if it came from a deep well.

'It's okay!' Culver shouted again. ‘You're going to be all right!' Echoes of his voice bounced back.

There was quiet from below once more.

The two men pulled away the wood, creating a hole large enough to climb through. They shone the lights in, the others peering over their shoulders.

'Construction work on the new shelter must have caused the fall-in,' Dealey said. With the continuous dampness over the years, the vibration from the new works, it's a wonder the whole bunker hasn't fallen in.'

Culver indicated the dark chasm before them. 'Maybe the nuclear bombs caused the final collapse.'

'Steve, please don't go down there.' Kate spoke in a low whisper, and there was an urgency in her request that disturbed Culver.

There's a kid inside,' he said. 'It sounds like a little girl, and she's alone, Kate. Maybe others are with her, too injured to speak, unconscious, maybe dead. We can't just leave her.'

There's something wrong. It ... doesn't feel ... right.' The first sound of the crying child had sent a harrowing and uncanny sensation spilling through her. There was something unnatural about the voice.

‘You don't really think I can walk away.' Culver's statement was flat, his eyes searching hers.

She averted her gaze, not replying.

'How can you get to her?' Ellison was still agitated, hating Culver for wasting so much time in this God-forsaken hole. "You'll break your neck trying to get down there.'

There could be a way through the sewers,' Dealey suggested. 'Underneath here must be the very basement of the old shelter, close to the sewer network.'

Culver shook his head. There's no way I'm going back there. Look.' He pointed the flashlight. There's a broken joist over there sticking up from a pile of rubble. The top end of the joist is leaning against the wall, just below the overhang. I think I can make it back up that way. Getting down is no problem; the ceilings are low in here; it's an easy drop.' He turned to Fairbank. 'I'd like to borrow the Ingram.'

The engineer surprised him by shaking his head. 'Uh-huh. I'm coming with you. You'll need a hand with the kid.'

Culver nodded gratefully and handed the Browning to Dealey. 'No point in you three waiting. Take them out of here.'