Free Earth Cult by Trevor Hoyle Page A

halted and called them forward. They clustered round him, the concentration of bright light reflecting the circle of faces which were already streaked with dust and shiny with perspiration. It was odd, Frank thought, that they should be sweating when the air was so chill; even the walls were exuding moisture.
    Craig pointed to a cross marked on the plan. ‘As near as I can tell this is where we are now. It’s directly above the detection chamber – that’s if Lee got his calculations right and the map of these old workings is accurate to within fifty feet.’ He looked at Frank, his face set and serious. ‘Now where do we go from here?’
    Frank studied the plan. ‘We investigate all the tunnels within this general area—’ he traced a circle ‘—and see if we can find a shaft or a fissure leading downwards. One of us – it had better be you, Craig – will remain here as our central reference point. The rest of us will take one hundred paces in each direction and check out the workings. One hundredpaces, okay? Then we return to this spot and report. If we’ve found nothing we extend the circle by another hundred paces. If you come across something that looks interesting report back immediately. Don’t investigate it yourselves, that’s the one sure way to get into trouble. Report back here and we’ll go in one party and check it out. If you lose your bearings stay exactly where you are and call out.
Don’t move an inch
. Stay right there and call out and keep calling out and using your lamp as a beacon. Has everyone got that?’
    The medical orderly had got it but he still wasn’t happy. He had thin features and apprehensive eyes and a nervous habit of continually licking his lips. He cleared his throat and said, ‘Could I stay right here? I mean, I really don’t think I could go out there on my own.’ He moistened his lips and smiled apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, but I really couldn’t.’
    â€˜All right, you stay here with Craig.’
    Frank swept his lamp in an arc. The tunnel was pitted with workings, some of them no bigger than holes in the rock face, and ahead of them the tunnel divided, the smaller entrance partially blocked by rubble and collapsed beams. He shared the medical orderly’s apprehension but they had come this far and there was no turning back. The four of them set off, Frank choosing to explore the offshoot of the main tunnel, clambering carefully through the triangle of rotten timbers and treating them like delicate porcelain; he had the uncomfortable feeling that if he breathed a shade too heavily the entire makeshift structure would collapse with him underneath it.
    He counted his paces. Provided the way ahead was straight, without side turnings, he shouldn’t have any difficulty in finding his way back. This smaller tunnel was no wider than the outstretched span of his arms and he had to stoop slightly to avoid knocking his helmet against the roof. The floor was thick with dust and he was glad to see his progress plainly marked by a series of trailing footsteps.
    After thirty paces the tunnel began to narrow and deviate to the right. It also seemed to be on a gradual slope, thoughit was difficult to be absolutely sure, with his senses confined to this cramped dark space and lacking an external point of reference.
    Soon he was having to walk in a semi-crouch, which was punishing to his thigh muscles. But he consoled himself with the fact that – so far, at any rate – he hadn’t had to make any abrupt turns or been faced with a choice of direction, which was what he feared most. As long as we keep on the straight and narrow, he told himself with a certain grim optimism, it should be child’s play getting back.
    The tunnel was like a long curving tube and it reminded him of an intestine in the body of a large animal, himself a microbe burrowing into the dark interior, a