‘But we ‘ave permission,’ Mr Ambrose said, his voice absolutely credible, almost affronted at being questioned like this. ‘We’re to stand guard at the other end. New safety measures.’
‘Oh? Let’s see your permission slip, then.’
‘Certainly.’
Reaching into his pocket, Mr Ambrose withdrew a slip of paper. What was this? Had he somehow managed to magically forge Colonel Townsend’s signature? I was beginning to think that nothing about him would ever surprise me again.
I was wrong.
‘Here.’ He held out the paper to the guard, who leant his rifle against the wall and took it.
‘Hey, wait just a minute! This isn’t-’
Mr Ambrose’s fist moved so fast I didn’t even see it coming. Neither did the guard. He flew backward and crashed against the stone wall beside the tunnel, sliding to the ground, unconscious.
‘Run,’ Mr Ambrose said. He didn’t yell. He didn’t shout. He just said it.
‘Y-you knocked him unconscious!’
‘Yes, Mr Linton. Now move.’ And then he was running, pulling me after him. I stumbled, still staring at the prone figure at the floor. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the shocked faces of hundreds of soldiers all over the cave, staring down at us, and then I was inside the tunnel, being dragged along the rails towards the foremost of the mining carts.
‘Get in!’ he commanded.
I looked from him to the cart and back again. ‘Into that? But why-’
‘Get in, I said!’ His tone was so deadly cold that my legs moved without consulting my mind on the matter. With a painful thud, I landed on my knees inside the iron cart. I had hardly had time to grab the wall to steady myself, when I felt it: the cart started to move.
Bloody hell! What…?
I raised my head and stared at Mr Ambrose, who was grinding his teeth, both of his hands clasped around the back wall of the cart, pushing it forward. My head snapped around to look in the other direction, where the rails led down a steep decline, then it whirled back to face Mr Ambrose. Suddenly, I realized what he was planning to do.
‘Are you crazy?’ I yelled over the creak of the metal wheels.
‘Not that I’m aware off, Mr Linton.’ How he managed to sound cool and distant while his muscles bunched with the effort of pushing the cart forward was a mystery to me - but not one I cared to solve right now. I had more pressing matters on my mind. Such as…
‘Are there even any brakes on this thing?’
‘Not that I’m aware of, Mr Linton.’
‘Well, are you aware of what’ll happen if we run into a dead end?’
‘Have you ever tried making meat-and-bone pancakes, Mr Linton?’
‘Stop this at once!’ I started to rise. ‘I’m getting out of this thing right now. I won’t-’
There was an ear-splitting boom that echoed all around the cave. Something ripped my ridiculous blue hat from my head, and it smashed against the wall. I had just enough time to see the large hole in the middle before it rolled out of my field of vision. My incredulous eyes flicked from the place where my mutilated hat had lain, to the entrance of the tunnel where, in a patch of torchlight, I saw a soldier standing, his rifle raised. Others were appearing around him, shouting and yelling curses. Not bothering to consult my mind again, my legs dropped me to the floor.
‘Um… all right. Maybe I’ll stay in here after all.’
‘How gracious of you, Mr Linton.’
The cart was gathering speed now; we were almost at the slope that would carry us away. Mr Ambrose shoved harder and harder, scarcely breathing heavily at the effort. I would never have thought that there was this much raw power in that cold, hard body of his. He looked focused and determined, as if he had been pushing mine carts all his life.
‘Hold on, Mr Linton,’ he hissed. He gave a last shove, and then jumped into the cart behind me. The force of his jump carried us forward another few feet, just far enough to reach the edge of the slope. We started to gather more and more speed. Wind rushed against my hair and tugged at my brown locks, making them fly all around me. Behind us, I could hear more shouts, and then there came another shot.
The car reverberated with a sound like a bell, and a scream tore from my throat. They had hit the car!
‘Keep your head down!’ Mr Ambrose hissed.
‘Thank you for the valuable advice, Sir,’ I growled. ‘I’d never have thought of that!’
Another shot, and another. Stone dust rained down on us as it hit the ceiling above. The light around us dwindled fast as we gathered speed. The torches of the cave were only a distant glimmer by now, while the dark before us was a gaping maul waiting for a scrumptious meal of Ambrosia and Lilly. Somewhere out of the half-light behind us, I could hear the creak of more metal wheels, and knew what it meant.
They’re following us!
Then, all thoughts disappeared as we shot around a corner and down, down, away from all light, down into the darkness.
The Tortoise and the other Tortoise and no Hare
Our race into the darkness ended rather abruptly when, after a few dozen yards, the rails levelled out, and our cart rolled to a halt.
Having expected a thrilling race through the dark tunnels of the mine, this was something of an anti-climax. It was also quite worrying, considering a bunch of bloodthirsty soldiers, armed with rifles, sabres and God only knew what else, were not far behind.
‘Now what are we going to do?’ I demanded. ‘Get out and push?’
‘Not quite,’ he said drily, and in so calm a voice it made me want to strangle him. ‘Climb over there. Quick.’
Jumping over the front wall of the cart, he landed on something solid - wood, not the stone of the tunnel floor, I could tell from the sound his shoes made. He gestured for me to follow. Looking over the edge of the cart’s metal wall, I saw that it didn’t actually end at what I had taken to be the front wall. There was a flat, wooden extension, a kind of platform, attached to the front, and in the middle of the platform there was a construction that looked like a strange sort of metal see-saw.
The only difference from a see-saw was, it didn’t have seats at the ends. Instead, it had wooden handles, one of which Mr Ambrose was already holding.
‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ he asked. ‘Grab hold, and let’s get going!’
‘Get going with what?’ I demanded, though I already had an inkling.
