The Tunnels Below by Nadine Wild-Palmer (best short novels of all time .TXT) 📕

“Six… Seven…”

She leant up against the trees, her mind racing. The Deep—she would look for the black hole. It would be better to choose to jump in instead…

“Eight… Oh, this is getting exciting!” Jacques d’Or’s voice was getting audibly quieter as she moved further away from him but still she could hear the shrill of excitement in it.

“Nine… Ten… Eleven…”

Sweat had formed on her brow. And she ran, scratching her arms and legs on the branches, dodging in all directions to try to buy some extra time. If she could give Hunter a jagged trail, it might take him longer to find her.

“Twelve… Thirteen… Fourteen… Fifteen…”

And then she spotted it, not far off. Stunning and magical, the Deep that Jacques d’Or had condemned her to was exactly like the substance Jasper had in the jar at his cubby. A small blossoming tree hung over it, a pool of silvery liquid gel. The Deep looked like a rip in the ground, morphing and undulating like liquid metal. She could’ve cried but she refused to, knowing that was what Jacques d’Or wanted. His voice grew fainter as she sped further and further away from it. But she knew soon it would be upon her once again if she didn’t keep going. Cecilia could still hear him faintly talking to himself about how wonderful he was and all the changes he had made to the tunnels to improve them and how she’d almost ruined everything. Cecilia ran towards the pool of liquid. She ran for her life. She strained her ears to listen; she could really use Jasper’s ear horn now.

“Sixteen… Seventeen… Eighteen…”

Panting, she pushed on, running faster than she had ever run. She shot out of the silhouetted trees with all her might and with nothing but her will and her legs to carry her.

“Nineteen… Twenty… Ready or not, here we c-o-m-e!” cried the faroff voice of Jacques d’Or. It was bordering on the edge of a joyful squeal.

“Release the HUNTER!” echoed through the menacing treetops.

Although Cecilia wasn’t there to witness it, Hunter looked at Jacques d’Or with a disappointed grimace and shook his head. A flush of embarrassment passed over his brow. He sighed and began to move off, shuffling along on the ground. Jacques d’Or snapped a branch off a nearby tree and tossed it in the air, shouting “Fetch” in a patronising voice. “There’s a good boy, now off you trot. She’s getting away!”

Cecilia paused by the edge of the trees at an opening where the Deep was located. She crept over to the single blossoming tree and a flurry of soft pink and white petals floated by her as she peered into the small pool over which it hung. The tree was a winter-blossoming cherry tree. She knew because it was her mum’s favourite and there was one at the end of their road back home. When in bloom its petals would float into the air like snow. She focused her eyes on the pool. Mum, she thought. “Home,” she whispered to herself as she saw her own face reflected in the liquid.

Is this the Deep? she wondered. Surely not, it’s no bigger than my living room and it doesn’t seem all that scary. She’d expected something more like the Grand Canyon but there it was: a small, calm, reflective pool. Granted, she couldn’t see beyond the surface but it had a tranquillity about it. Cecilia stood a few feet from the edge and watched as it morphed before her, lighting up the blossom on the tree with its mirrored surface and absorbing the blossom that fell onto it.

She was close to getting into the Deep when fear tapped her on the shoulder, an uninvited foe, and just to top things off it had brought its best mate—doubt. She stood motionless. She tried to bat the bad thoughts away but they pushed in. What if there’s something in there? Or worse still, what if there’s nothing, nothing at all? But she had to do it; there was no where else to go. Cecilia could hear Jacques d’Or’s voice dancing closer. He was unhinged! What was he going to do to Kuffi, Luke and Lady-Bird? She knew that this was her only chance to get away. She imagined her friends trapped and crying for eternity; she owed it to them and to herself. Jacques d’Or was chattering away as he grew nearer, so at least she knew where he was, but it also meant Hunter wouldn’t be far either. Cecilia decided in that moment that there was no time for fear and certainly no room for doubt. She sucked up a long breath and backed away from the edge a little so she could get a run-up and with arms outstretched she launched at the pool in front of her and disappeared into the Deep.

23The Deep

The first thing Cecilia noticed was that she was cold. There were no two ways about it: she was freezing. She appeared to be moving through a glossy expanse of silvery liquid, an oily slick to nowhere, as far as she could tell. Although she could feel her body moving through the substance, Cecilia found it hard to actually move the parts of her body; she was stuck in the position she had made on entry. She kept her breath held and though things were blurry, she could make out flecks of silver and blue, like glitter rushing past her. Cecilia wondered if Hunter had managed to sniff her out, and if he had, if he’d be forced to follow her? Hopefully, if they did trace her to the Deep, Jacques d’Or would give up and leave her to her fate. She strained her neck to look behind her and as she did, she almost let out a scream: a giant version of Jacques d’Or was saying something, but it was muffled, like when she was underwater in the bath and her mum came in, and she could almost