Roderick Gordon: Deeper

Will swiveled his head around to peer at the end panel behind him. From what he'd seen so far, the train and each of the freight cars it was pulling were on a scale several times larger than anything he'd ever encountered on the surface. He wasn't looking forward to the journey back to where his brother was waiting. Getting here had been no mean feat: Will knew that even the smallest misjudgment might have meant that he'd have slipped onto the track below and most probably been mashed by the giant wheels that ground and sparked on the thick rails. The thought alone was terrifying. He took a deep breath.

"Ready to go?" he shouted to Chester.

His friend nodded and rose uncertainly to his feet. Clinging to the end of the car, he braced himself against the incessant seesawing as the train wove around several bends in the tunnel.

He was dressed in the short coat and thick pants that were the usual garb in the Colony, but as the coat flapped open, Will was dismayed by what he saw.

Chester had been nicknamed Chester Drawers at school for his imposing physique, but, looking at him now, he seemed to have wasted away. His face was gaunter and his body had lost much of its bulk. Incredible as it seemed to Will right then, his formerly hefty friend now appeared to be almost frail. Will labored under no illusions as to how appalling the conditions in the Hold were. It wasn't long after he and Chester had first stumbled onto the subterranean world that they'd been caught by a Colonist policeman and thrust into one of the dark, airless prison cells. But Will had only been held there for about a fortnight — Chester had suffered a considerably longer ordeal. Months of it.

Will caught himself staring at his friend and quickly averted his eyes. He was racked with guilt, knowing that he was to blame for everything Chester had endured. He, and only he, had been responsible for dragging Chester into all this, driven by his impulsiveness and his single-minded determination to find his missing father.

Chester said something, but Will didn't catch a word of it, studying his friend under the illumination cast by the light orb in his hand as he tried to read his thoughts. Every exposed inch of Chester's face was pasted with a layer of filth from the sulfurous smoke constantly streaming past them. It was so thick that it looked like one big smudge broken only by the whites of his eyes.

From what little Will could see, Chester certainly wasn't a picture of health. In among the dirt mask were raised purple blotches, some with a hint of redness where the skin appeared to be broken. His hair, grown so long it was beginning to curl at the ends, was greasy and stuck to the sides of his head. And from the way Chester was looking back at him, Will assumed that his own appearance was equally shocking.

He self-consciously ran a hand through his white, dirt-streaked hair, which hadn't been cut for many months.

But there were more important things to attend to right now. Moving to the end of the car, Will was about to hoist himself up when he stopped and turned to his friend. Chester was extremely unsteady on his feet, although it was difficult to tell how much of this was due to the irregular swaying of the train.

"You up for this?" Will shouted.

Chester nodded halfheartedly.

"Sure?" Will shouted again.

"Yes!" Chester yelled back, nodding a little more vigorously this time.

But the process of crossing from car to car was a fraught undertaking, and after each one Chester needed to recover for longer and longer periods. Making the maneuver that much more difficult, the train seemed to be picking up speed. It was as if the boys were battling a force ten gale, their faces pulled back and their lungs filling with the putrid smoke whenever they drew breath. Added to this was the hazard of burning ash, pieces of which flared just over their heads like supercharged fireflies. Indeed, as the train continued to accelerate, there seemed to be so much of this carried in the slipstream that an orange glow pervaded the murky gloom around them. At least it meant Will didn't need to use his light orb.

As the two boys moved up the line of train cars, their progress was slow. Chester was finding it a challenge to keep on his feet, despite using the sides of the car to steady himself as he went. Before very long there was no hiding the fact that he couldn't cope. He dropped to all fours and it was all he could do to crawl sluggishly behind Will, his head hung low. Not about to stand by and let his friend struggle along like this, Will brushed aside Chester's protestations, forced an arm around his waist, and helped him up.

It took an enormous effort to manhandle Chester over the remaining end sections, and Will had to help him every inch of the way. Any miscalculation would have one or both of them falling under the massive wheels.

When he saw that they had one more car to go, Will was beyond relieved — he sincerely doubted he had it left in him to lug his friend very much farther. As he held on to Chester, they both reached across to the end panel of the last car, grabbing hold of it.

Will took several deep breaths, preparing himself. Chester was moving his limbs feebly, as if he hardly had any control over them. By now Will was supporting Chester's full weight and barely managing. The maneuver was difficult enough in itself, but attempting it with the equivalent of a giant sack of potatoes slung under one arm risked trying too much. Will mustered all his remaining strength and hauled his friend along with him. With much grunting and straining, they eventually made it over, collapsing in a heap on the bed of the next car.

They were immediately bathed in copious light. Numerous orbs the size of large marbles rolled loosely around the floor. They had spilled out of a flimsy crate that had cushioned Will's landing when he'd first dropped into the train. Will had already tucked a number of these into his pockets.

But at present he had his hands full as he heaved his ailing friend to his feet. With his arm hooked around Chester, Will kicked at any orbs in his path so that he wouldn't lose his footing. These zipped around chaotically, leaving streaks of light in their wake and colliding with other spheres, which themselves were then set into motion, as if a chain reaction had been started.

Will heaved for breath, feeling the effects of the exertion as they covered the short distance they had yet to go. Even if Chester had lost a lot of weight, he was by no means an easy burden. Stumbling and tripping, and enveloped by the intense swirling light, Will looked for all the world like a soldier helping his wounded comrade back to the lines as an enemy flare caught them out in no-man's land.

Chester seemed to barely register what was around him. The sweat poured from his forehead in rivulets, washing streaks into the grime coating his face. Will could feel his friend's body trembling violently against his as he panted short, shallow breaths.

"Not far now," he said into Chester's ear, urging him to keep going as they came to a section of the car where wooden crates were stacked. "Cal's just up here."

The boy was sitting with his back to them as they approached. He hadn't moved from between the splintered crates where Will had left him. Several years younger than Will, his newfound brother bore an uncanny resemblance to him. Cal was also an albino and had the same white hair and wide cheekbones they'd both inherited from the mother neither of them had ever known. But now Cal's head was hunched over and his features hidden as he tenderly rubbed the nape of his neck. He hadn't been quite as fortunate as Will when he'd fallen into the moving train.

Will helped Chester over to a crate, where his friend slumped down heavily. Approaching his brother, Will tapped him lightly on the shoulder, hoping he wasn't going to give him too much of a shock. They had been told by Imago to keep their wits about them, as there were Colonists on the train. But Will needn't have been concerned about alarming his brother; Cal was so preoccupied by his aches and pains that he barely reacted at all. It was only after some seconds, and a few inaudible grumbles, that he finally turned around, still kneading his neck.