The Circle Line by Ben Yallop Page B

was made from lead, every movement was an effort. Turning he was startled to see movement. He was not alone in his cell.
    A shape, huddled in a corner, began to form itself into a person. It was another man, grimier and thinner than Aleksy but similarly stripped to the waist. Where Aleksy was barefoot this man seemed to have fashioned himself a pair of shoes of sorts from something that looked like old leather and rag. A shaggy beard and long tangled hair made him look mad and wild but when he had forced himself into a sitting position he seemed fairly normal. The man pushed his hair from his eyes and stretched his filthy legs ahead of him in a stretch before crossing them at the ankles and making himself comfortable. He gave Aleksy a careful look as he scratched at his beard.
    ‘It would seem that we are momentarily free of our mental capture. A changing of the guard. Do you speak English?’
    Aleksy nodded and putting his hand to his own face was surprised to find a heavy stubble there.
    ‘Excellent. How long have you been here? Do you have any news or messages?’
    Aleksy shook his head.
    ‘Come on man, speak. We don’t have long before presence robs us of our clarity. Who are you?’
    ‘Aleksy. I, I don’t know where I am or how long I've been here. Am I, am I dead? Is this hell?’
    ‘Ah, a new chap, eh?’ said the man ‘Thought so. Well, at least it will be good to have someone to talk to I suppose. Alec was it?'
    'Alek-see' said Aleksy.
    'Alek-see. Hmmm. Well, my name is James Worson, but everyone here calls me Worsen. I can tell you that you are not dead, but, I'm afraid, you are not far wrong when you speak of hell.’
    Worsen rose and crossed to the featureless bars and peered out into the gloomy corridor.
    ‘Anyone else awake?’ he called.
    When there was no answer he turned back to Aleksy. ‘Always takes a while for folks to wake up. I'm surprised that you were awake first. You must have a certain mental fortitude. Well, Aleksy, you wish to know what on earth is going on?’
    Aleksy nodded.
    ‘Well, the first revelation is that what is going on is not going on on earth, if you follow. We are currently hundreds of metres below a temple called the Rivenrok Complex and we are slaves to its residents. Whatever you were before, you are now a miner. We dig for crystals. Where and when were you captured?’
    ‘London.’ said Aleksy ‘I was underground.’
    Just then several quiet voices floated down the corridor and Worsen turned his attention back to beyond the bars.
    ‘Who's awake?’ he called softly.
    A series of voices floated back, voicing names. Aleksy heard men and women call out, a mixture of accents. When it was quiet again Worsen called his own name before adding ‘and Aleksy, new man.’
    He turned to Aleksy again. ‘There are usually new names but the old names get shorter. We're missing many people today, or tonight, whatever time it is. It sounds like we’re down to a single Stonehenge hippie.’ He gave a grim laugh then called ‘Any sign of Middie?’
    A deep gruff voice came back through the darkness. ‘I'm here, Worsen. Took me a little time to find my voice, that's all. Who's the new guy?’
    Worsen beckoned Aleksy forward. When he reached the bars Aleksy looked out but could see little in the faint light. The other cells must be to the sides he thought.
    ‘My name is Aleksy. I am a labourer on the London Underground. I was in a tunnel when I saw a flash and I went to look. Then there was someone there I think. I was pushed into a, a hole of some sort. I ended up in this cell but I must have been here a long time. I don’t remember.’ He rubbed his heavily stubbled chin.
    ‘And when were you taken Aleksy?’ came Middie's voice.
    ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘He doesn't understand, Middie.’ came a woman's voice.
    ‘I haven’t had time.’ interjected Worsen.
    ‘Well, friend Aleksy,’ came Middie's gruff voice. ‘You are in a place that exists separately from our world. This