The Map of the Sky (Trilogía Victoriana #2)(149)
Murray and Wells looked at each other doubtfully, then they observed the captain, who shrugged with annoyance, and finally they fixed their gaze on me, with a look of incredulity that exceeded even that of my own wife. This took me by surprise, because I was convinced my reasoning would appear obvious to someone with Wells’s intelligence.
“Even if your theory is correct, Mr. Winslow,” Wells replied, “and the year 2000 is immutable, because, as you so rightly say, in a sense it has already happened, the invasion could still be stopped in a thousand different ways without our involvement. Furthermore, if we’re the ones destined to put a stop to it, then that will happen regardless of whether or not we stay in London. Consequently, I insist we go ahead with our plan to leave the city once we have been to Queen’s Gate.”
“What if leaving the city is precisely what we shouldn’t do? What if by fleeing we change the future?” I looked imploringly at Shackleton. “What is your view, Captain? As a hero, isn’t your main concern to save the human race?”
“I may be a hero, Mr. Winslow,” Shackleton said, looking straight at Murray, “but first and foremost I’m a husband, whose duty it is to rescue his wife.”
“I understand, Captain,” I said, somewhat disgruntled by his stubbornness. “However, Claire and my wife will remain quite safe in my uncle’s basement, I’m sure, while we—”
“I’m afraid Mr. Wells is quite right, Mr. Winslow,” Murray cut in impatiently. “I don’t think the captain can be of much help to us in this situation. Clearly he is out of his depth.” Then he leered at the captain: “I trust you won’t be offended, Captain, if, notwithstanding your celebrated victory over the automatons, we doubt your ability to defeat the Martians, but you see these machines of theirs are infinitely more powerful than a handful of toys with steam engines stuck to their backs.”
“Of course I’m not offended, Mr. Murray,” Shackleton replied, with his thinnest smile. “At least I saved the human race. All you’ve managed to do so far is to empty people’s pockets.”
Murray paled briefly, then gave a loud guffaw.
“I made them dream, Captain, I made them dream. And, as everyone knows, dreams have a price. I don’t know how you traveled to our time, but I can assure you ferrying people across the fourth dimension to the empire of the future is expensive. But why not leave this agreeable discussion for another time, Captain, and concentrate on our predicament.” Murray put his arm around Shackleton, steering him gently to face the vista afforded by the hill. “As you can see, the city is overrun by Martians. How would a hero like you reach Queen’s Gate without running into the tripods?”
Shackleton observed bleakly how the tripods were mechanically, almost indifferently, destroying London.
“I thought as much,” Murray responded to Shackleton’s silence. “Even you can’t do that.” He moved away from the captain, shrugging at us to show his disappointment. Only I was aware of the smile that at that moment had appeared on the captain’s face. “As you can see, some situations are insurmountable, even to the greatest heroes,” Murray announced in a tone of mock regret. “However, I’m sure we’ll find a way to—”
“You should have more faith in the heroes whose exploits line your pockets, Mr. Murray,” the captain interrupted him, his gaze fixed on the Martians’ progress. “We’ll go underneath the tripods to Queen’s Gate.”
“Underneath them?” Murray said with astonishment, turning to Shackleton. “What the devil do you mean?”
“We’ll use the sewers,” the captain replied without looking at him.
“The sewers? Are you out of your mind, Captain? Are you suggesting these charming ladies should go down into the stinking sewers of London?” Murray declared, gesturing toward Emma and Jane. “I’ll never let Emma—”
“Oh, take no notice of him, Captain,” the American girl chimed in, stepping forward and placing her hand gently on Murray’s arm. “Mr. Murray has the annoying habit of deciding where I should and shouldn’t go and doesn’t seem to realize that I have a tendency to do the opposite of what he says.”
“But, Emma . . . ,” Murray protested, in vain.
“Honestly, Gilliam, I think you should let Captain Shackleton explain his idea,” the girl said, so sweetly I found her quite disarming.
If this beautiful girl was Murray’s beloved, I told myself, clearly the oversized braggart I had met two years ago had made excellent use of his death and subsequent resurrection.
Murray gave an exasperated grunt but gestured to the captain to continue.
“It’s the safest way,” Shackleton said, addressing the others. “There are hundreds of miles of tunnels below this city, spacious enough for anyone to move about in. Not to mention the cellars and underground storehouses. There’s a whole world down there.”
“How do you know the sewers so well, Captain?” I asked, intrigued.
Shackleton paused for a few moments before replying.
“Er . . . because we hide in them in the future.”
“So, you hid in the sewers, did you?” Murray scoffed. “Well, isn’t the quality of British plumbing extraordinary! I’d never have thought they would last a whole century.”