Merely a Madness Read Free Page B

now. Despite the weirdness of it, Mullen knows the storm wasn't that bad. Not for Earth. Fisher should have fixed the electricity, or brought down storm lanterns. The little lead ball of dread that has been pulling at the bottom of his stomach grows even bigger.
    He reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket for his handheld, and switches it on. The light from the screen doesn't illuminate much. The rest of the tourists are huddled and still, the sound of their breathing loud in the tunnel. Daddy Kozlow has a snore as bad as the rain. Mullen extricates himself from Hannah, and makes his way up the spiral stairs.
    His neck cricks. He rolls the muscles in his back while he walks. He was expecting to sleep rough, not spend a night against a brick wall. One day down, six to go, and then he'll be back in his own bed. At the top of the stairs, the door is open by an inch; a sliver of daylight sketches a thin white streak on the opposite wall.
    Mullen pushes against it, expecting it to give. It doesn't. He pushes against it harder. It doesn't give in the least. Whatever is blocking it is heavy . He leans forward and puts an eye to the open inch.
    Whatever he is expecting to see, it isn't mud and open sky where there should be brick and metal roofing. The sight of the sky makes his stomach twist. It's so big and so powerful, it feels as if it could suck him out through the sliver of open door, and pull him into space.
    Don't be ridiculous . Mullen shakes his head at the absurdity of his own mind.
    He twists to get a better view, and finds brick and metal, warped, broken and sunk into the ever-present mud. A large section of wall appears to have fallen against the door. There is no way he will be able to push it open, and he can’t break through the reinforced metal either.
    Mullen thinks of what he knows of Earth storms: rain, thunder, and lightning. Sometimes tornadoes and hurricanes. He supposes one of the latter could have done this, but aren't they rare? He doesn't know, and it doesn't matter. God only knows what happened to Fisher. That doesn't matter either. Mullen certainly has no intention of relying on the fat little frog to get them out of here. And if he can't rely on Fisher, he certainly can't rely on any of the sullen-faced Earthlings.
    They can't even wait for someone to miss them and send a rescue party. It could be days. They have no food, no clothing, nothing. He hasn't eaten since Fisher handed out stale sandwiches on the shuttle down. His stomach rumbles at the thought.
    Mullen pulls out his handheld. He's not supposed to connect to the mainframe here. He wasn't even supposed to bring his security key, but what else could he do to occupy himself while Hannah was off gawping at fossils? Work is the only thing he has in his life apart from Hannah. Sometimes there's something to be said for breaking the rules.
    He connects to the Harbin-Beck mainframe and finds the local Earth hubs. He scrolls through, trying to figure out which is the one they saw from the bus. He has no idea what part of Earth they are on. He has a vague memory of Hannah chattering about it on the shuttle while he was trying to sleep. Something about it once being one of the hubs of civilisation. He shakes his head. They could be anywhere.
    The mine will have a security team and equipment to get the door open, and as soon as they see his security level, they'll be falling over themselves to help him. He feels a brief flush of pride. For all that Hannah gives him a hard time about working for Harbin-Beck, he's going to be the one to get them out of this mess.
    OK, he'll get a rap over the knuckles for bringing his security key on an unauthorised trip, but so what? It won't be any worse than huddling in the dark and waiting for Earthlings to rescue them.
    Mullen finds the local mine and connects, sends his security protocols, and waits. And waits. He doesn't even get an automated acknowledgement. Whatever damage the storm has done to the building has