Torchwood - 14 - The Undertakers Gift by Trevor Baxendale

Author:Trevor Baxendale [Baxendale, Trevor]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, General, Science Fiction, Media Tie-In, Space Opera, High Tech
ISBN: 9781846077821
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2009-01-02T08:00:00+00:00

THIRTY

‘Maybe we should call the police,’ said Wynnie nervously.

Gwen and Ray had managed to force open the hatch. At first Gwen had thought it might just be a drainage cover, long forgotten by the council and now a pointless adjunct to the remains of the Black House. But as soon as it creaked open she knew she was onto something. She felt the familiar pulse of excitement in her chest and stomach as a narrow flight of stairs was revealed leading down into the darkness.

Leaves fluttered past, the sky darkening, ready for a storm. Gwen took a deep breath and made her decision. To hell with Jack – she’d do this herself and show him there was no need to hold her hand all the time. She reached into her jacket pocket and produced a small but powerful LED torch.

Without waiting – fearful that she might change her mind if she thought about it too much – Gwen started down the steps, stooping as she went below ground level. The torchlight wavered in front of her. ‘Are you coming or staying?’ she called over her shoulder.

‘Staying,’ said Wynnie, and at the same time Ray said, ‘Coming.’

Ray looked sorrowfully at Wynnie. ‘I’ve got to go. I want to find Gillian.’

‘That’s a job for the police,’ Wynnie insisted.

‘But Gillian’s barely been missing for an hour or so – the police won’t do anything about that. She’s an adult. They wouldn’t do anything until she’d been gone a day or more. OK, so we found her phone – but what does that prove? Nothing. She dropped it.’

‘Everything about this,’ said Wynnie carefully, ‘is bad. Wrong. The whole place feels. . . wrong.’

‘Exactly. And how do we tell the police about that? Or about the pallbearers from the funeral cortège?’ She reached out and rubbed his arm. ‘Come on, Wynnie. Let’s check this out ourselves first, while we can. We’ve come this far.’

He drew a long breath. ‘If you’re sure. . .’

She almost laughed. ‘I’m not sure about anything any more.’

‘All right,’ he said heavily, taking her by the hand. ‘Let’s do it.’

They went down the steps, hurrying after the torchlight. At the bottom of the stone steps was a narrow, brick-walled passageway. It was noticeably colder and damp down here.

‘How do you two feel about rats?’ asked Gwen as they caught up.

‘Um,’ said Ray, in the manner of someone who wanted to say, ‘I can’t stand the bloody things.’

‘There are a few down here,’ Gwen explained. She was trying to sound unconcerned and, to her credit, almost managing it. ‘They’re steering clear of the light, though.’

She shone the torch down the passageway and a number of grey shapes darted away into the shadows. ‘Yuck.’

‘Actually, I quite like rats,’ said Wynnie. ‘I used to have one as a pet.’

‘Good for you,’ said Ray. She pulled him closer. ‘I had cats. Work it out.’

‘It widens out a bit here,’ reported Gwen. She had moved ahead, and her voice echoed dully from the walls. In the

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