Unwritten Books 3 - The Young City (2 page)

Peter goggled. Rosemary blanched. “You’ve been eavesdropping?”

“Look, just don’t rush into things,” said Theo, raising his hands. “Take it from somebody who knows. University is not high school, and undergraduate university is not like graduate studies. You think you
know where you stand? Well your world is going to change. Be careful.”

Rosemary looked at him, hurt. “You don’t think we’d be careful?”

Theo sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s just that ... Just humour your older brother, okay? I don’t want you to have any regrets.”

Rosemary rolled her eyes. “Okay,” she said at last. “I promise. We’ll be careful.”

“That’s my Sage,” said Theo. He opened his arms.

She made a face at his use of her long-abandoned nickname, but she came forward and hugged him.

“And you didn’t answer my question,” said Theo.

“And I’m not going to,” said Rosemary, her voice muffled by his chest.

Theo shrugged. “All right. Well, how about I go and get us a pizza ...,” he said, flashing them a smile and then adding, “... by calling and having it delivered. The phone’s set up, so I don’t have to leave you two alone for long.” He grinned at their reddened cheeks and left the room.

When Theo was gone, Peter rounded on Rosemary. “Why didn’t you just tell him ‘no’? It would have been so much easier.”

She glared. “It’s not his business.”

Peter huffed and turned away. They went back to cleaning up the room in silence. Then, as Peter picked up a tossed-aside throw rug, something caught his
attention and he knelt on the bare concrete. When Theo entered the room, Peter asked, “Theo, did you know you have a hole in your floor?”

Theo and Rosemary turned. The three of them crouched by an opening in the concrete the size of a quarter. Rosemary pulled a penny from her pocket and dropped it in the hole. It vanished without a sound. She tapped the floor. “It sounds hollow.”

Peter slid back to the wall. “Seven hundred dollars a month?”

Theo nodded. “Plus utilities.”

Rosemary peered into the hole. “Where do you think it goes?”

Theo stood and tapped the floor one foot from the hole, then three feet, then five. It rang hollow each time. He shrugged. “A cavern, maybe?”

Rosemary shot up. “Cavern?”

“Sure, there are supposed to be a few in the area. Taddle Creek used to flow through here until the city turned it into a storm sewer. I heard the river ran through caves. Maybe this is one of them.”

Rosemary slid away from the hole.

Theo chuckled. “Oh, don’t be a baby, Rosie. If it were really so unsafe, could I do this?” He began to jump around the hole in a violent dance.

Rosemary pressed her back to the wall. “Theo!”

Theo laughed. “Sorry, Rosie. Now, if we’re done teasing each other ...”

In the kitchen, the phone rang.

Theo turned. “That’s probably the pizza place. They said they’d call to confirm the address because I’m a new customer. Wait here, you two.” He left, leaving the two pressed against opposite walls.

Rosemary and Peter watched him go. Then, gingerly, they stepped forward and approached the hole. Peter tapped the concrete again, marvelling at the hollow sound it made.

“You ever hear of this Taddle Creek?” asked Rosemary.

Peter shook his head. “I only lived in downtown Toronto until I was ten. Wasn’t exactly interested in urban archaeology.”

“I wonder what’s down there.” Rosemary gave the floor her own experimental tap.

Cracks fissured from the hole and passed beneath their feet.

Peter and Rosemary flashed each other looks of horror.

The floor gave way. They fell into darkness.

Rosemary hit stone — hard. The impact winded her and kept her from catching herself before she rolled over an edge. There was another heart-stopping moment of freefall, and then she hit bottom with a splash.

Submerged, she clawed for the surface, choking on gritty, brackish water. She burst into air alive with the roar of a rushing stream.

“Peter!” she screamed. “Pete—.” She slipped beneath the surface.

Hands clutched at her and hauled her up.

“Rosemary!” Peter shouted in her ear. “Are you all right?”

“Where are we?” She kicked against the current, catching his legs twice.

“Water! Stream! Grab something!”

“I’m trying!” She glubbed water again.

Then her shoulder smacked something sharp. Her hands clawed brick. Soon they were clinging to a wall, heads barely above water, bracing each other against the rushing stream.

“What now?” shouted Rosemary.

“We’ve got to get out of this water!”

“It’s too dark!”

“Feel for a ledge! Anything! I’m slipping!”

Rosemary ran her hands over the wall. Above her head, she felt a shelf extending away, deep enough to lie on. She hauled herself up and rolled onto dry soil.

Turning on her stomach, she reached blindly for Peter, slapping him across the face before catching his wrist. He clutched her arm and, after a brief struggle, lay gasping beside her.

“Thank you,” he wheezed.

She clasped him close. “Where are we?” she shouted in his ear.

He coughed. “I don’t know. But this place stinks.”

Now that they were out of danger, she could register what her other senses told her. The water drowned out all sound. The air was cool, damp, and foul. “Oh God, I hope we didn’t fall into the sewer.”

Peter sniffed his sodden sleeve. “No. We smell pretty bad, but not
that
bad.”

“Storm sewer, then.” Rosemary let out a hollow laugh. “Lucky us.”

“How do we get out of here?” he gasped.

“Theo will help us.”

“The stream pulled us quite a way,” yelled Peter.

“We head back,” said Rosemary. “We follow this ledge upstream.”

They stood up, clutching each other, expecting to hit their heads on the ceiling. They found they could stand without stooping. There was no wall within arm’s reach.

The storm sewer was a presence of sound and wind on their left. Save for the sandy ground beneath their feet, or the brick lip of the sewer if they ventured too far, they might as well have been wandering in a void. After what seemed like hours, Rosemary brushed stone on her right. “No!” she moaned. “It’s closing in on us.”

“Rosemary, wait! I can see you!”

She looked toward his voice and realized that she
could see him, too. He was a silhouette against shadow. “The hole must be nearby! We must be getting light from Theo’s apartment!”

Peter shouted to the ceiling. “Theo! We’re down here!”

Rosemary joined in. “Theo! Help! Get us out!”

Their words rang back at them, accompanied only by the roar of rushing water.

“Theo!” Rosemary screamed.

“Maybe he’s gone for help,” said Peter.

“Maybe ...”

“Where else could he be?” he said. “If he wasn’t calling the fire department, he’d be sticking his head in the hole and shouting.”

“You’re right.” She took a deep breath. “We should wait. That’s sensible. Let’s sit down.” She slumped onto the sandy ground.

He knelt beside her. “You all right? You’re shivering.”

“So are you!”

“Not as bad as you. Here, let me hold you.”

“I’m okay.” But she leaned into his embrace.

They waited, breathing the damp, reeking air. Nobody called. Their clothes started to dry.

Rosemary pulled away from Peter and stood up. She couldn’t pace, so she shifted on her feet, muttering, “Where is he? He should be back by now.” She kicked the sand. “Theo!”

Peter grabbed her. “Rosemary, don’t panic.”

She slapped his hands away. “Don’t you tell me not to panic! We’re stuck here! I hate places like this!”

He shook her by the shoulders. “Rosemary!”

She stared at him, breathing heavily. “I’m sorry,” she said at last. “I’m feeling a little claustrophobic. We have to get out of here.”

“And go where?”

“Upstream. This water has to come from somewhere.”

“Shouldn’t we just —”

“Peter, do you really want to sit in the dark with Miss Claustrophobia for who knows how long?”

He took her hand. “Let’s go.”

Feeling along the sloping cavern wall beside them, they made their way upstream faster than before. Then, instead of touching sand, Peter’s feet met brick, while Rosemary’s met open air. She stumbled, slipped from Peter’s grip, and fell with a splash.

“Rosemary!”

She picked herself up, rubbing her barked palms. “I’m okay,” she shouted, stopping Peter from jumping in after her. “Just a little winded, that’s all. And standing in this stupid sewer again.”

“Let me help you out!” He scrambled for the edge.

“Wait, something’s different.” She peered around in the gloom. “I’m standing in this water. It’s barely knee deep!” She stood in the centre of the stream and held out both arms. A step to her left and another to her right
allowed her to touch slimy bricks on either side. “It’s narrower. Round, too, like a pipe.”

“Where did all that extra water come from?”

“I’ll check.” Holding on to the side, she crept forward. The roar was as loud as ever but, as she listened, it seemed to intensify in front of her. Then the wall turned sharply away and the floor deepened. The current tugged her sideways.

“It’s a junction!” She struggled back. “The river branches! I’m standing in a smaller stream!”

“Can you come out now?”

“No, come in with me!”

“Are you nuts?”

“Look, a smaller stream means we’re closer to the source — closer to an exit!” She glared at his silhouette. “We have to try! Take my hands.”

Catching her hands, he jumped in. “I hope you’re right.”

“So do I.”

Hand in hand, they sloshed upstream. The walls of the cavern converged above them. The pipe walls wrapped over them. Their splashes echoed. Peter reached for a ceiling and found it by standing on tiptoe.

“How’s the claustrophobia?” he asked.

“Chugging merrily along.”

They sloshed forward, stopping occasionally for Peter to reach up and check for manhole shafts and other ways out. Then, as they felt the pipe curving before them,
Rosemary whirled around. “What was that?”

“What?”

“That splashing sound.”

“Probably water.”

She smacked his shoulder. “Quiet! There it is again.”

“Rosemary, don’t spook yourself.”

“I swear, something’s following us!”

“Like what?” he snorted. “Crocodiles?” Then he heard it, too: a squeal, amplified by the pipe, then a sound like a stone thrown into a lake. “Okay ... Maybe a rat, but that’s nothing to be alarmed about.”

There were more echoing squeals. Then came a sound like a river reversing its flow. They became aware of a phosphor glow. Had it always been there, or was it creeping up the tunnel after them? Waves lapped at their knees.

In the growing light, Peter and Rosemary glanced at each other, turned, and struggled upstream.

As they stumbled and splashed, they saw a new light grow ahead of them, warm and yellow. They rushed forward, rounded a turn, and were suddenly outside. Sunlight sent them staggering, hands over their eyes, back toward the exit they’d emerged from. They leaned on a brick wall, the supernatural glow all but forgotten, taking deep gulps of the sweet air.

“I never knew Toronto air could smell this good,” wheezed Rosemary.

Peter climbed over the wall and helped her onto a
muddy slope. They flopped onto their backs and stared at the sky.

They had emerged from a round, brick culvert, tall as a door. Its metal gate lay on the opposite embankment. The ditch snaked away, built of newer bricks, and square. The sky above them was blue and grey, with black clouds rolling away. The air smelled of rain. “No wonder the water was so rough,” said Rosemary. “We had a summer thunderstorm.”

“Hmm?” He looked up. “Rosemary, after all that, how can you still have your glasses?”

“Sports strap.” She fingered a black elastic band stretching behind her ear and beneath her hair. “Perfect for my active lifestyle.” Then she looked down. “Oh my! Look at us.”

They were grey with mud, their clothes matted and clinging, their hair a disaster. Both carried the distinctive odour of the sewer.

Peter chuckled. “Theo’s shower is going to get quite a workout.”

“Shower? This dirt needs at least an hour’s soak in the tub!”

“Oh, no!” said Peter. “You’re not hogging the tub while I stink up Theo’s apartment! I’ll wrestle you for it!”

Rosemary giggled. “Maybe we can share.”

He blinked at her. “You sure like teasing your brother.”

“First time I’ve had ammunition.”

He laughed and squeezed her hand. “I love you, Rosemary.”

She squeezed back, and then they stared at each other, true relief sinking in. They embraced, and held on tight.

“I love you too,” said Rosemary. She kissed his matted hair, then wrinkled her nose at the smell. She patted his shoulder. “Let’s find out where we are.”

They got to their feet. Peter peered over the rim of the embankment. “It’s probably the university. Theo’s apartment is just south of it.”

“It’s awfully quiet.” Rosemary trudged up the slope.

Peter nodded to a stone building, all turrets and pointed windows, facing onto a large green. “It’s the university, all right. I think that’s King’s College.”