Unwritten Books 3 - The Young City (20 page)

“Are you certain?” Faith rushed to keep up with Rosemary as they strode back to the warehouse. “This is your home, your time! Don’t you want to stay?”

“Of course I do!” Rosemary kept her puffy eyes fixed on the sidewalk ahead. People in business suits and briefcases sidestepped out of her way. “But I’m not leaving Peter behind.”

“But to go back alone?” Faith persisted.

Rosemary rounded on her. “Who’d believe us? If we don’t go back now, we might not be able to go back.” She turned and continued, walking even faster.

“How do you know?” Faith trotted alongside. “How can these things even exist? And what do they have to do with Edmund and those horrible men?”

They reached the warehouse. Rosemary turned to the door and found herself staring at a sheet of plywood. She ran her hands along it.

“Rosemary?” Faith frowned at the plywood wall. “What happened?”

“What on earth are you two wearing?”

The two women turned. They found themselves staring at a tall, clean-shaven young man in a suit and tie, a cellphone forgotten in his hand. He glanced at the hoarding and nodded. “So, your bosses didn’t let
you
know they’d cleared out either, eh?”

“Wh—?” stammered Rosemary.

“Look.” The man jabbed his cellphone at them. “If you ever find your employers, tell them they made their last deal with Newman Imports. We had an agreement: three gross of unbreakable china plates in exchange for genuine Victorian furniture. You think we wouldn’t notice you sent us replicas? Talk about insulting our intelligence. You didn’t even try to make them look old!”

“But we —,” Faith began.

“And another thing! You guys are
weird
, with your strange clothes and funny way of talking. It doesn’t surprise me in the least to find this place boarded up. I’ve checked the records on this place. Did you know this building’s condemned? Construction crews are lining up to demolish it as we speak. You guys are the weirdest fly-by-night operators I’ve ever encountered. Are your clothes some sort of gimmick or something? Well, whatever; if your bosses know what’s good for them, they’d better not show their faces in our offices again, or there’ll be hell to pay, got it? Goodbye!”

He snapped his cellphone shut, brushed past them, and strode down the street to his double-parked sports car, which opened with a beep at his approach.

Faith stared after him. Rosemary turned her attention back to the hoarding. “This must have gone up after we left the place. We’ve got to get in there.”

“How?” said Faith.

“Tools? A crowbar?” Rosemary thumped the plywood. “We don’t have time!” She pressed her forehead
against the barrier and took a deep breath.

Then she caught a glimmer out of the corner of her eye. It reminded her of a blue glow, like St. Elmo’s fire. But when she looked, she found herself staring at the empty entrance of an alleyway. She pushed away from the wall and stepped toward it slowly.

“Rosemary?” Faith followed.

Rosemary turned into the alleyway. It stretched ahead, empty, plywood barrier on one side, boarded-up brick on the other. Frowning, Rosemary turned to her right and looked up the alleyway sidelong. A glimmer brought her attention whipping around, and she stared at where the plywood hoarding ended, past the end of the building. She strode forward more confidently.

“Rosemary, where are we going?” asked Faith.

“Looking for another way in.”

“How?”

They turned a corner and ran face first into another hoarding blocking the alleyway. Rosemary smacked the plywood, only to have it flap on loose nails. She pushed aside the plywood and pulled Faith through. They found themselves facing a scratched and rusted metal door. Rosemary shoved it open and they stumbled through.

The door slammed behind them, echoing through the warehouse, leaving only the muffled sound of machinery and the click and scuff of the women’s footfalls as they crossed the open floor.

“What was that about?” asked Faith, still being led by the elbow. “That man, and those things he said.”

“Edmund’s business partner,” said Rosemary. “Or, one of Edmund’s business partner’s business partners. Edmund doesn’t know it, but he’s trading in items from the future.” She grinned. “Futures trading, you might say.”

“But how could anyone make a profit out of that?”

“Unbreakable china plates? Watches that don’t need winding?” Rosemary raised her voice above the rumbling machinery. “How much would that sell for in your time? And all paid for with a bunch of cheap furniture.”

“What did he mean about the construction crews?” shouted Faith.

“What?” Rosemary yelled. The roar of engines buffeted their ears.

“I said, what did he mean about —”

Glass crashed. Masonry rained down. A long section of wall toppled in front of them, spraying brick at their feet. A huge stone ball on a chain sagged into the warehouse. The chain tightened, and the ball pulled back, knocking more bricks free. Rosemary and Faith choked on dust.

“We’ve got to get to the portal now!” Rosemary shouted. Faith was ahead of her, scrambling over mounds of brick. She followed, then looked up in horror. With a leap, she pounced on Faith and knocked her flat. The wrecking ball smashed in again and swung over their
heads. Brick fragments scattered into the pit with the green-painted door.

“Go!” Rosemary shoved Faith ahead. Faith stumbled down the steps. Rosemary tried to follow, but tripped and fell. She looked back and saw her skirt caught on the jagged bricks. She tugged the hem of her dress free.

The wrecking ball pulled back a second time. Rosemary staggered to her feet, then stared.

The door, swinging shut after Faith, flickered in the dust cloud. Its fresh colour faded. Cracks appeared beneath a plank of wood someone had used to nail it shut. The past was closing with the door.

Rosemary ran, stumbling over the uneven ground. Sunlight hit her, followed by the wrecking ball’s shadow. She jumped down the stairs to the landing and hesitated as the door faded old for a moment, and then turned new again. A fierce blue glow leaked around it. She snatched up the lantern they’d discarded when they arrived, pulled the door open, and jumped through. She started to pull it shut just as the wrecking ball struck.

The impact slammed the door into her and pitched her into Faith. The wood cracked. And then the noise cut out so completely, Rosemary wondered if she’d gone deaf.

They lay on the stone steps, gasping. Gradually, they began to hear the rasp of their breathing and the sound of running water.

“Faith,” gasped Rosemary. “I dropped the lantern. Can you find it?”

Faith’s hands scrabbled on the brick floor. There was a clink of metal. “Here it is.”

Rosemary beckoned in the dark. “Give me some light. Let me see the door.”

Faith fiddled with the shutter. They flinched at the sudden beam of light. She aimed it up the stairs at the door. Moments before, on this side, it had looked battered and ancient. Now it was brand new. And locked.

“What happened?” said Faith.

Rosemary took a deep breath. “The portal’s gone.”

They leaned against the walls. Faith was shivering so hard, the light shook. “What do we do now?”

Rosemary shrugged. “Look for another way out. One that isn’t a portal to my time yet.”

“This is hopeless!” Faith yelled. “Our choices are to remain trapped in this infernal maze or rise to the surface in a loud and blinding future!”

“Hey.” Rosemary touched Faith’s shoulder. “It’s okay. We’ll get out, in the right time and place. Besides, you’d like my time. Plenty of opportunities for women. We even had a woman prime minister!”

Faith’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yeah! She only lasted a few months, but she won’t be the last.”

But Faith shook her head. “It’s no use, Rosemary. Try as you might to lift my spirits, I’m trapped here, and I can hardly breathe. I cannot see how things could get worse!”

“Faith Watson!”

The loud, gruff voice cut through the watery babble and made the tunnel walls ring. “Faith Watson, we know you’re in there! Mr. Birge wants to speak to you!”

Rosemary jabbed at the lantern. “Faith! Kill the light!”

“What?” Faith gasped.

“Turn it off! Blow it out! Just get it covered!”

Faith rattled the lantern shut. Darkness fell, and they saw another light play over the bricks of the adjoining tunnel.

“Don’t try to hide,” said the voice. “We’ve seen your light, so it’s no use pretending!”

They stood in silence.

“Mr. Birge just wants to talk to you. Come now, Miss Watson, you can hardly like your hiding place. Would you rather be left here, alone in the dark?” He waited for a response. None came. “Fine, then! Rot, if you want to!”

More silence. An oar dipped in the water. The women held their breath.

The voice hardened. “Come on out, or we’ll get you out.”

Rosemary took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Faith stared at her with mounting horror. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to them,” Rosemary whispered back. “All this talk and no mention of me. These guys don’t
know there are two of us, and they probably don’t know what you look like. If they take me, you can find your way out and get the police!”

“Rosemary, please don’t leave me here! It’s hard enough as it is!”

“Don’t keep us waiting!” shouted the voice. An oar splashed. The light on the wall intensified. “You’ll only make it harder on yourself!”

“Faith!” Rosemary grabbed her shoulders. “In another minute, they’ll have both of us. Now, it’s your call: stay and get the police, or go with them. What will it be?”

Faith stared at the approaching light. She closed her eyes. “I’ll stay. Take the lantern.”

“But you’ll be in the dark!”

“They know we have it. If you step out without it, they may become suspicious.” She thrust it out. Rosemary stared at it, then took it reluctantly.

Faith gripped her shoulder. “Be careful. You have no idea what these men could do.”

“I know.” They hugged. “Good luck!”

A hand smacked wood. “Right, that’s it. Lads! Bring her out. Don’t be gentle!”

“Wait!” shouted Rosemary. The light hesitated. “I’m coming out!”

“Hurry up, then!”

Rosemary pulled away from Faith, stepped down the stairs, and splashed her way along the tunnel to the main
stream. She stepped into the light, shielding her eyes from the glare.

“Faith Watson?”

Rosemary laughed. “Were you expecting someone else?”

The light turned aside. In the shadow behind it, she saw one of the flatbed boats draw near. The silhouette of the oarsman gestured to the empty cargo space. “Step aboard, my lady!”

Rosemary rolled her eyes. “Such a gentleman.”

She gingerly stepped aboard and gathered her sodden skirts around her. The oarsman pushed away from the wall. A boy manning the rudder guided the boat into the current.

Rosemary looked back. In the dying light, she saw Faith peering out of the branch tunnel, her face pale, her lips tight with determination.

Then the boat eased into a curve and slipped away downstream.

AT THE MOUTH OF TADDLE CREEK

Rosemary sat on the cargo platform in the middle of the long boat. With her hands cupped over her knees and her back straight, she looked, despite her ruined dress, like the Queen of the Nile. The bricks swept past.

The shabbily dressed boy at the bow of the boat looked back at her. “I hear you gave our boys a lot of trouble.”

She gave him a steely smile. “I’m very glad to hear that.”

He looked her up and down. “There must be more to you than your dress and glasses.”

“Maybe,” said Rosemary airily. “Or maybe I just caught them by surprise.”

“Glad you saw sense at last,” grunted the oarsman. “Saved us having to go in after you. Saved you a lot of trouble.”

Rosemary ignored him. Instead, she asked, “What’s it like, driving these boats? It can’t be pleasant. No sun, the smell ...”

“Never saw the sun much, anyways,” grunted the oarsman. “As for the smell, maybe you never smelled the like, you with your Yonge Street store and your schoolin’ at the edge of the city. Try to make a living in the back alleys and you’ll see why punting a boat is better.”

The tunnel widened steadily. They passed other tunnels, as large as their sewer had been under Edmund’s basement, with jetties attached and some with boats moored. One boat was being loaded with boxes as they passed. Rosemary thought she caught sight of a Seiko logo, but it went by in a flash. They passed two other boats heading upstream.

“Why is this better?” asked Rosemary. “You’re criminals, trapped in tunnels all day. When the police come for you, where will you run?”

“The police will never find us down here.” The boy in the bow pointed at the ceiling. “Up there, on the surface, if you do nothing but sit on a church step all day, they’ll lock you up for vagrancy. They’ll tell you to find work where there ain’t no work. And if you do find work, what do you get? Your back broken in a factory? A pittance selling papers to people who’d spit at you as soon as look at you? I’ll take my chances with what His Nibs has found down here.”

“And what has ‘His Nibs’ found down here?” asked Rosemary. “Don’t you wonder how all this can be?”

“We don’t get paid to ask questions,” the oarsman growled. “But it’s making him rich, and it’ll make us rich if we stay long enough. You’ll see. Around the next corner, you’ll see.”

They eased around a long bend, and Rosemary saw.

They arrived in a long, low, wide cavern supported by huge wooden beams. The stream ebbed, and the water grew rougher as the boat bucked against waves coming in from Lake Ontario. Rosemary stared across the jetties and the boats and saw the low horizon turning grey with the approaching dawn.

The mouth of the underground river had been converted into an underground port. Gaslights were fixed to the walls at the head of each dock and jetty. The place was a hive of boats waiting for other boats to dock. Men loaded and unloaded cargo. Other boats headed upstream, some laden, others empty. The sound of people working and speaking, calling out the distance left to dock, drowned out the slap of water. Voices echoed and rang across stone.