Wings of Fire by Alma Alexander

Author:Alma Alexander [Alexander, Alma]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Book View Cafe
Published: 2017-05-23T05:00:00+00:00

*7*

“What happened to the substation… the real substation… when this house of yours took over?” Paul asked Uncle Bob as the small company was huddled over mugs of coffee in the parlour in the pre-dawn darkness.

“Why do you ask?” said Uncle Bob. He alone was drinking a cup of his ubiquitous tea, refusing to accept coffee as a civilised substitute.

“No reason I should, is there?” Paul shrugged. “Except for the inescapable fact that I find a cozy little cottage in its place, of course. Perfectly natural, that.” Paul knew he was being uncharacteristically rude, but, by God, he had reason to be. “There is also the salient point that this place was an above-ground double redundancy control centre. There is or was a lift, an access way into the tunnel leading into the turbine hall below. It is an easier way to get in.”

“If it was an easy way,” said Uncle Bob, “you may be sure that it will have been sabotaged by now.”

“Do you like making things difficult?”

“Do you know a way in or don’t you?” growled Uncle Bob, his polite veneer slipping in the face of his impatience to be gone.

“I know a way in,” said Paul, his antipathy sparking in his eyes. He had the good sense to look down as he spoke. No need to let Uncle Bob know just exactly what he thought of him, if he didn’t know already.

They set out into the night within the hour.

The light of Uncle Bob’s friendly house soon faded away. Paul took the lead, followed by Sabrina, Uncle Bob, and Fiana, leaving Jack to bring up the rear.

They emerged onto a gravelled road which ran from the jetty on the lake up to the vertical face of the mountain, and was swallowed by it. Huge gates, wide and tall enough to admit buses into the main access tunnel, barred their way forward, black and brooding in the night.

“It’s like going into Mordor,” Sabrina muttered.

“More like the mines of Moria,” said Paul, who had lifted the cover off a numeric keypad and was peering at it under the faint lantern light.

“Speak, friend, and enter,” quoted Sabrina instantly.

Paul lifted his head; she could see his teeth flash white in the shadows of his face. She would probably have known about the Bradbury story, too, he thought, feeling inordinately pleased about that. She was like him after all, it seemed. In the important ways. At the very least she had read the right books.

Sabrina grinned back in return.

“Hurry!” said Uncle Bob urgently.

The moment of contact was gone. “It’s done, it’s done,” said Paul, dropping the keypad cover back into place. “Come on.”

It was Uncle Bob, both impatient and almost too eager, who pushed the gates open and entered first. The tunnel was lit by a series of faint emergency lights, casting scattered and pathetically inadequate pools of yellow light which left most of the place in shadow. Fiana drew her breath in sharply as she walked in.

“Hang on,” said Paul. “There’s a torch here somewhere.

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