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Darren O'Shaughnessy
 
A Darren Shan kötetek
 
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The Saga of Darren Shan
 
Cirque Du Freak Book 3:TUNNELS OF BLOOD
Cirque Du Freak Book 3:TUNNELS OF BLOOD : CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY

  2004.10.09. 09:10


CHAPTER TWENTY
 
Late on Christmas Eve. Down in the tunnels.
 
We'd been searching for a couple of hours, but it felt longer. We were sweating and covered with dirt, our feet and pants soaked through with filthy water. We were moving as fast as we could, making a lot of noise in the process. My ribs hurt to begin with, but I was over the worst of it now and barely noticed the stabbing pain as I bent and crouched down and twisted.
"Slow down!" Mr. Crepsley hissed several times. "He will hear us if you keep this up. We must be more careful."
"To hell with being careful!" I yelled back. "This is our last chance to find him. We've got to cover as much ground as possible. I don't care how much noise we make."
"But if Murlough hears us -" Mr. Crepsley began.
"We'll chop off his head and stuff it with garlic!" I snarled, and moved ahead even faster, making still more noise.
Soon we reached a particularly large tunnel. The water level was higher in most of the tunnels than it had been the night before, because of the melting snow on the ground, but this one was dry. Maybe it was an emergency pipe, in case the others overflowed.
"We will rest here," Mr. Crepsley said, collapsing. The search was harder for him than for me, since he was taller and had to bend more.
"We don't have time for a rest," I snapped. "Do you think Murlough is resting?"
"Darren, you must calm down," Mr. Crepsley said. "I understand your agitation, but we cannot help Evra by panicking. You are tired, as am I. A few minutes will make no difference, one way or the other."
"You don't care, do you?" I whined. "Evra's down here somewhere, being tormented or cooked, and all you're worried about are your tired old legs."
"They are old," Mr. Crepsley growled, "and they are tired, and so, I am sure, are yours. Sit down and stop acting like a child. If we are destined to find Evra, we shall. If not…"
I snarled hatefully at the vampire and stepped in front of him. "Give me that flashlight," I said, trying to rip it out of his hands. I'd dropped mine earlier and broken it. "I'll go on ahead by myself. You sit here and rest. I'll find Evra on my own."
"Stop it," Mr. Crepsley said, pushing me away. "You are behaving intolerably. Calm down and  "
I gave a ferocious tug and the flashlight flew out of Mr. Crepsley's hands. It also spun out of mine, and shattered to pieces against the tunnel wall. We were thrust into complete darkness.
"You idiot!" Mr. Crepsley roared. "Now we will have to go back up and find a replacement. You have cost us time. I told you something like this would happen."
"Shut up!" I shouted, shoving the vampire in the chest. He fell down hard, and I backed away blindly.
"Darren!" Mr. Crepsley shouted. "What are you doing?"
"Going to find Evra," I said.
"You cannot! Not by yourself! Come back and help me up: I have twisted my ankle. We will return with stronger flashlights and work faster. You cannot search without a light."
"I can hear," I replied. "And I can feel. And I can shout. Evra!" I yelled, to prove my point. "Evra! Where are you? It's me!"
"Stop! Murlough will hear. Come back and keep quiet!"
I heard the vampire scrambling to his feet. Taking a deep breath, I ran. I fled far into the tunnel, then slowed and found a small pipe leading out of the large one. I slipped into it and crawled. Mr. Crepsley's shouts grew dimmer and dimmer. Then I came to another pipe and scurried down it. Then another. And another. Within five minutes, I'd lost the vampire.
I was alone. In the dark. Underground.
I shivered, then reminded myself why I was there and what was at stake. I looked around for a larger tunnel, feeling my way with my fingers.
"Evra," I called softly. I cleared my throat and this time yelled, "Evra! It's me! Darren! Can you hear? I'm coming to find you. Yell if you can hear me. Evra. Evra? Evra!"
Shouting and calling, I moved forward, hands outstretched, ears straining for any sound, eyes useless - a perfect target for all the demons of the dark.
 
I'm not sure how long I was down there. There was no way of telling time in the tunnels. I had no sense of direction, either. I might have been going in circles. I just moved forward, calling Evra's name, scraping my hands on the walls, feeling my feet and lower legs turn numb from the damp and cold.
Sometimes a draft of air tickled my nostrils, a reminder of the world above. I moved fast whenever I felt the air, afraid of losing my nerve if I stopped to breathe it in.
I was moving downward, getting deeper into the system of pipes and tunnels. I wondered how many people had been down here over the years. Not many. In some of the older pipes, I might be the first human (half-human) to pass in decades. If I'd had time, I would have stopped to scrawl my initials on the walls.
"Evra! Can you hear me? Evra!" I repeated.
There'd been no response so far. I wasn't really expecting one. If I did stumble upon Murlough's lair, it was a pretty sure thing he would have taped up Evra's mouth. The vampaneze wasn't the sort to overlook a minor detail like that.
"Evra!" I croaked, my voice beginning to crack from the strain. "Are you there? Can you -"
All of a sudden, with no warning, a hand jammed hard into my back and sent me crashing to the floor. I gave a yell of pain and rolled over, gazing blindly into the pitch-black depths.
"Who's there?" I asked shakily. A dry chuckle answered me. "Who is that?" I gasped. "Mr. Crepsley? Is that you? Did you follow me down? Is it -"
"No," Murlough whispered in my ear. "It's not." He flicked on a flashlight directly in front of my eyes.
The light was blinding. I gasped and shut my eyes, all thoughts of defending myself forgotten. It was what the vampaneze had been waiting for. Before I could react, he ducked forward, opened his mouth, and breathed on me… the breath of the undead… the gas that knocks people out.
I tried drawing back, but it was too late. The gas was in me. It raced up my nostrils and down my throat, flooding my lungs, forcing me to double over, coughing fitfully.
The last thing I remember was falling forward, Murlough's bare purple feet growing larger as I dropped toward them.
And then… nothing. Just black.

 
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