SONG: Chase Atlantic - Swim (slowed + reverb)

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Derek Matthews

Irradiating greater than the oceans of stars, the creativity deteriorates my brain into gobsmacked nothingness. On the backs of these blueprints, are the candid domains. New sets of lines of the true substructures of the three Everston properties.

"Wilfred Estate is a replica of Carlyle Manor, but larger," says Tanner. "Tate Manor is a replica of Wilred Estate, again larger. All for the same reaosn: the stealth beneath. If Wilfred was caught rescuing slaves in plain sight, he would get killed. He had to do it behind closed doors. The same with Tate. Half of his rescued Holocaust survivors were from the Alderney camps, the rest were from the European areas terrorised by the Nazis."

Luke pours another glass of rum. "Some Everstons approved Nazi ideologies. Despite that they tried to conceal their favoritism, they were killed."

Tanner taps at the Carlyle Manor. "Carlyle first installed the undercroft. He added tunnels that extended all the way to London. Tate prolonged the tunnels to some cities quite further up, like Birmingham and Manchester. Wilfred replicated it and had his tunnels connect to the sewers, accessed Iowa, Kansas, Tennessee, Illinois and the other enclosing states. Mum extended it further." He unrolls the map I saw him working on last night. "You see these red lines? These tunnels are hers. One of them reaches Wales—"

I marvel, "She extended it to France?"

"She established her own Euro-tunnels." Luke inspects Mum's work in amazement. "And that, gentlemen, is how you checkmate. I presume Mum did this as she predicted another tragedy could happen that requires the Manor's assistance. History repeats itself as we forget and don't learn. Sometimes, we refuse to learn from the past. The repetition is a punishment."

I observe the red lines lengthening to Yorkshire and halting at the border of Scotland. Alexandra Matthews was certainly a prominent woman. "Who else knows about this?"

"A couple of Everstons, perhaps, considering their urge to own this house."

Tanner points out, "But if they were desperate, we would all be dead."

"And risk their secrecy to be blown?" Luke shakes his head. "They're senseless imbeciles, though not that senseless. They might be waiting for the right moment. I'm uncertain if Cyril knew. He gave Mother this house as a result of her strength. He never told her about this. In fact, one time Mother hinted it, and he was confused."

"Pray to God or whatever that no one else knows," mutters Tanner. "Especially the Clybornes. In a way, we have leverage over their own country."

Every few years, the Families unite to bond. The Summits of the Decemviri. The Americans are exiled from these conferences as a consequence of their biggest war crime: Japan. The Allfathers of the other nine Families agreed it was the gravest action amongst all of them, that it was unnecessary and merely a lustful means to show off their power, costing the lives of innocents. Their recent wars in the Middle East was another reason to disapprove their existence.

The Clybornes were sanctioned many times. If you commit vile horrors, you pay each Family money. Hiroshima and Nagasaki cost fifteen million to each Family. Middle Eastern conflicts like Iraq costed them twenty million. Their position in the hierarchy lessened and lessened. The Americans are the greatest threat. So far, The Siaos (a Singaporean clan) are the wealthiest in the world.

"We could use these tunnels to blow up things," I say in thought. "Like the government."

Mum, I fucking love you.

"Show me the undercroft," I say eagerly.

We leave the library, coming across Simko and Cox. Luke ushers them to join us, incase they get 'trapped' again. In the gardens, we descend grassy slopes of steps, elapsing the raging pools and the beguiling clashes of water of the first pool onto the second below. Like in the front yard, there is a fountain of clear-blue shimmers.

Luke handed them a key. I watched as the four approach a nearby statue each. One is of an angel, the other is of Carlyle, the third is of Tate, and the fourth is of a child with a butterfly on his nose. They hunted for a keyhole, so miniature and hidden in the most discrete places. Unlocking, they gradually and cautiously turn the statues at different degrees: eighteen, thirty-four, half a circle, and a two-hundred-and-thirty-three.

Click, click, click, click, goes the fountain. Rumbles vibrates the grass. The square the fountain stands mildly escalates an inch, gliding right through the ground. The corners of it are tendered to metal binders, revealing —

A passage of sinking sandstones.

Luke initiates the descent. The lights of downward hall sputters, stimulating the Holocaust survivors. The bricked encasements of hollows and troughs and faded textures judder at the touch of the dead.

The ancient staircases dilated into the cavernous refuge. Wintry and scented of dust, earth and long-lived agendas, the undercroft no doubt consumes the kitchens to half of the lavish gardens and fields. Fluorescent lights embedded in the passage prolonged in the chamber that has existed years before the walls of the Carlyle Manor was built. The discoloured columns uphold the concave ceiling — approximately more than fifteen feet high —, their curved sides attached to their neighbours like webbed fingers, indeed embellished with silky skeins and plexuses. Motionless, I strain my ears. We are too far down to hear nature.

Ten thousand victims Tate Hugo Everston and his acquaintances rescued. Fifty thousand slaves Wilfred Septimus Everston refuged in his Estate. Ghosts of Tate's and Wilfred's army bandaging whipped fleshes and mental scars, feeding, pouring, dressing, doing whatever they can to make the faint-hearted laugh away the wickedness of humanity. The ghosts are so humanoid, the frosty ripples are no doubt their doing.

People died here, too, as well as above — diseases the acquaintances were too late to diagnose or treat. There are even shadows of the dead.

Luke turns to the eerily-hushed, abyss tunnel. "This—'' Hes point at it. The fluorescent lights flare a signless road. "—leads to the A33 motorway. It's divided into four more routes, according to the map Mum drew."

"How many people do you think helped her to extend the tunnels?" I inquire.

"It's hard to tell. But they are good at keeping secrets, or else Mum wouldn't have recruited them."

Tanner inspects another tunnel to the far, far right. "We need to check all of them."

Luke nods in agreement. "I have to organise a conference with my most trusted confederates. We need to find the entrances and ensure they are heavily guarded."

"No one can know about this," I mumble, anxiety at the dreaded outcomes filling my nerves. "The horrors that could be done if this transport system was in the wrong hands."

"I have to find out who else knows," says Luke.

Tanner looks at him. "And what are you going to do? Kill them?"

"If it is necessary."

"You can't just go around—"

"If it is necessary," emphasises Luke. "Like Derek said, a lot of treacherous things could be committed if it was in the wrong hands—"

"You hear that?" cuts Cox.

We stop talking, listening to the hush of the covern. Echoes of pat-pat in the far distance, deep in the murkiness of dimmed lights, heavy and human. It suddenly stagnises, a predator watching its' prey. Cox, Simko and Luke trade a look withdrew their guns, causing Tanner to step back and widen his eyes.

The pat-pat resumes. Luke makes no risky wavering and advances to the sound, compressing his grip on the handle and ticking his gun, mumbling we should improve the lights under here. The resonances thoroughly and awfully close, it ceases the second Luke nears it. We squint are gazes into the darkness —

To Tanner's right, "Boo."

Cox and Simko erupt into high-pitched screams, roughening the palpitations of my heart. Tanner whips around and hits the intruder sharply in the face. The familiar rousle of a dark-blond glow staggers, shaking of deep, rich laughter rippling in the undercroft.

Luke lowers his gun. "You fucking serious?"

Uncle Thomas straightens his posture, an arm draped across his stomach to submerge the guffawing pain. "I saw an opportunity and I took it."

Luke returns his gun to his side, glaring at Cox and Simko. "Ever thought of signing up for a horror movie? You'd both be perfect comedy."

The two men redden. "It was sudden, lass."

"Wasn't that the point of hiring you—to not be off-guard?"

"Alright, alright," I say, defensive. "It's just a one-time thing. Christ, give them a break."

Tanner apologises to Thomas, "Sorry, mate."

"It didn't hurt. You should improve that."

"What are you doing here?" demands Luke.

"Investigating." His laughing grin refuses to disappear. "Since last night, when you told me. I'll tell you what I found upstairs at dinner."

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