The Derring-Do Club and the Empire of the Dead (43 page)

It went click.

“Bang! Dead. See?” Charlotte held it up and continued explaining: “Then bolt back – one – and the empty shell is ejected, then – two – bolt back in. It catches the round and then – three – flip it back into position: ready to fire. It couldn’t be simpler.”

“One, two, three,” Earnestine repeated, her hand miming the action she’d seen.

Charlotte thrust the rifle towards Georgina: “Gina, have a go.”

“I’d honestly rather not,” said Georgina.

“And it’s aim – fire, always aim–fire. Aim–fire. The trick is to hit the target, not use up bullets. And count your rounds: one, two, three, four, five… at ten, you need to change the magazine or manually load bullets in like this.”

Charlotte took a bullet and showed them where to insert it and how to ram the bolt home.

“And see,” Charlotte explained. “You can shove them into the magazine too. Or the charger over the top.”

“How do you know all this?” Earnestine asked.

“I… er… read a book,” said Charlotte. “Look, there’s another revolver and ammunition.”

“Lottie, did you talk to those cadets, who you let ogle you at our old school?”

“I might have done,” said Charlotte. She began to stuff handfuls of the smaller shells into the pockets of her Aerial Corps uniform. Men’s outfits were so much more convenient.

Earnestine tutted: “You should be ashamed.”

“They showed me how to fire the rifles.”

“What good is firing rifles for a young lady?”

“It’s going to be jolly useful in the moment,” Georgina interrupted.

“Gina, don’t take her side,” said Earnestine. “Exactly how… words fail me.”

“To show me how to hold the rifle to my shoulder, they took turns to put their arms round me and–”

“Charlotte!”

“It was lovely.”

“Charlotte Deering–Dolittle!”

“Ness?”

“Clearly, once we’ve saved the British Empire, I shall to have words with you about decorum and… pretty much everything.”

Chapter XXVII

Miss Deering-Dolittle

Earnestine held the button of the flashlight down using up the battery, but this was a desperate situation. They all clustered around the map.

“This is their headquarters,” said Earnestine, needlessly interpreting her perfectly legible and neat script. “All their galvanic cables go there. So they have to go down this tunnel that goes to Junction Thirty Four to reach the sewers.”

“We tell Major Dan,” said Georgina, her voice still cracking with emotion.

“By the time we get there, Graf Zala’s army will be everywhere.”

“We’re lost then.”

“When Caruthers and McKendry escape, they’ll–”

“If?”

Earnestine considered for a moment: “No, they’ll escape and they’ll get help, but… we have to give them time to organise something.”

The map in Earnestine’s hand blurred in her vision. So many times Uncle Jeremiah had traced her hand down this or that river, following the tributaries and it had all been so exciting and clear. She felt lost: there were knuckles and faint blue veins on the back of her hand, but this was all just pencil scribbles.

“It narrows here,” said Charlotte, pointing.

“Yes.”

“So, this is our Thermopylae, we hold them here, and then fall back here, which we’ll call the Alamo.”

“Can’t we pick British battles rather than Greek and American defeats? Thermopylae and Alamo weren’t exactly victories.”

“They were.”

“Not for the people involved.”

“But they did turn the tide of the war.”

“British.”

“I’ll think of some.”

Earnestine folded away the map safely in her bag and then they collected the ammunition box. They emptied it to make it lighter as they only needed three rifles after all. Charlotte had taken the revolver – no–one had questioned this. She loaded Merryweather’s small gun too as a spare, each pocket of her enemy uniform assigned to a different revolver’s ammunition. Although why they didn’t make the guns take the same ammunitions, so Charlotte could use one bag, was beyond Earnestine. And why could Charlotte remember point 455, point 320 and point uncle Tom Cobley, and not remember to tidy her room or do her Latin homework?

There were ropes on either side of the box, so it swung between Earnestine and Charlotte. Georgina quietly brought up the rear.

They sloshed along the passageway, the light from Earnestine’s lantern casting its beams about the curved brick ceiling. There were slopes with stairs at the side in places where the unpleasant water cascaded down.

“Is it me or is it getting deeper?” Charlotte asked.

“It has been raining,” said Earnestine.

They reached the right spot where two tunnels joined and further down was a raised brick area. They could hear distant mechanical sounds – they were close now – and their voices dropped to urgent whispers. Charlotte pointed and then hefted the ammunition box up onto their final redoubt, a metal covered platform, waist high, bolted into a brick base. At the far end a rectangle of shadow hid an opening. There were any number of passages leading off: they had to hold them here, otherwise they would overrun this underworld and then emerge all over London.

“We can’t keep going back and forth for bullets,” said Earnestine.

“Let’s fill our bags,” Charlotte said. She yanked open the top and handed a rifle to Earnestine.

“We better take up position,” Earnestine said, “Gina, can you fill the bags for us?”

“Sorry?”

“Fill the bags with bullets.”

“Yes.”

Earnestine and Charlotte went to select the first line of defence while Georgina began to fill the bags.

“This is too wide for Thermopylae…” said Charlotte. “It’s more like Isandlwana.”

“That was a British defeat,” said Earnestine.

“How about Laing’s Nek?”

“The Boers won.”

“At the end, our boys’ rifle fire allowed a retreat.”

“What about–”

Georgina snapped at them: “Stop bickering and pick something!”

“Sorry.”

Slowly, as they waited, the distant galvanic noises, sparks and pops began to be joined by growls and wailing. The sounds grew and, as the distance shortened, it became more distinct; there were splashes too, signs that the untoten army was near.

“With all this water,” Charlotte whispered, “we ought to choose a naval battle. How about the Battle of Santa Cruz de Tenerife, Nelson’s first against the Spanish.”

“So this is Tenerife then?”

“Yes.”

Earnestine considered the dark, moody passageway, the constant dripping and the stench of foul water, and so unlike a Spanish island in the Atlantic. It was not the only part of Charlotte’s scheme that disturbed her.

“Lottie?” she whispered.

“Ness?”

“Why do you choose nothing but British defeats?”

“Oh… I thought you’d have realised,” said Charlotte, biting her lip. “It’s simply because we don’t stand a chance.”

“Ah… yes, of course. Perhaps we could call the last redoubt ‘Rorke’s Drift’, it would…” Earnestine thought hard for the right phrase, “…cheer Georgina up.”

“Very well,” Charlotte turned to shout to Georgina. “Gina! We’re calling the final redoubt ‘Rorke’s Drift’.”

Georgina didn’t reply.

“Ness, Georgina doesn’t look cheered up.”

“She’s had a trying day.”

Mrs Arthur Merryweather

Georgina felt she’d finished sorting the ammunition. No matter which containers she shifted the brass cylinders into, they didn’t multiply. Indeed, some slipped from her shaking hands and dropped into the dirty water.

With each handful dumped in the purses, she said: “Ammo.”

“Gina,” Earnestine said. “Now, I think.”

“Ammo… ammo… ammo…” It reminded her of something.

“Gina!”

Done, she thought, and all divided equally like chocolates at Christmas. She went over to the other two and handed out the bags: “Two boxes in… Rorke’s Drift, a purse each and the kit bag.”

“Thank you,” said Earnestine, putting the medium kit bag over her shoulder.

It came to her and she mumbled it aloud: “Ammo… ammas… ammat… ammarmus… ammartis… ammant.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I was just thinking.”

It reminded her of another rhyme too: Amazo, Amazon, I’m–a… and she did feel lost, utterly and completely.

“Amazons are warrior women,” Georgina said.

“So are we,” Charlotte replied. “We’ll get them, won’t we?”

“Yes,” said Georgina, “they don’t deserve to exist. We should wipe them all from the face of the Earth, purge their filthy perverted way of life and be done with them all.”

“And then we’ll deal with the Austro–Hungarians.”

“I was talking about the Austro–Hungarians!”

“There’s Pieter,” Earnestine said.

“Do you love him?” Georgina asked.

“I beg your pardon!”

“Do you love him?”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Our families haven’t been introduced.”

Charlotte interrupted any further discussion: “Look out!”

The light at the end of the passage flickered, shadows moved, cast down the long tunnel by the creatures.

The light at the corner was almost completely obscured and then the untoten army came into view.

“Fire when you see the whites of their eyes,” said Charlotte.

“Their eyes are bloodshot,” said Georgina.

“Fire when… I tell you. We must stop them at twenty yards.”

“That pipe in the wall?” said Earnestine.

“…yes.”

The rifle felt slippery in Georgina’s hand, and heavy, suddenly she couldn’t hold it up. Unbidden tears welled in her eyes and the approaching monstrosities appeared to blur and vanish. She could feel her heart in her chest beating and, despite her corset, her breathing quickened making her head spin. She took up position to Earnestine’s right and levelled the rifle. It wavered far more than the other two.

“Gina, hold it together,” said Earnestine. “Stiff upper lip.”

They were as ready as they’d ever be, she knew, and it felt good to be standing shoulder to shoulder with her sisters.

“For Queen and Country,” Earnestine said.

“For Arthur,” Georgina added.

“Let’s nobble some Austro–Hungarian untoten right in their nancy,” said Charlotte.

Earnestine was horrified: “Charlotte… language please!”

Miss Charlotte

Charlotte kept her gun steady, and the head of the central untoten was obscured by the far sight as it nestled in the valley of the near sight.

Earnestine was lecturing quietly, droning on and on like the undead army approaching them: “Lottie, if we don’t maintain our standards, then what would be the purpose in winning… or, in this case, the purpose of making a stand? Being British doesn’t make us automatically better; instead, we must strive to better ourselves so we can be an example to the peoples of the Empire.”

Or something like that, Charlotte didn’t listen.

Instead, she concentrated on the dishevelled and lurching approach, an attack that blurred.

She blinked: suddenly the untoten jumped into focus.

“Concentrate on your flank,” she said. “If they get around us, we’re done for. Their numbers will count against us. And pick your targets… wait for it… wait… wait…”

It became a chant or an off–stage prompt.

I’ve left it too late, she thought.

But she said: “Wait…”

The books said to do this, but they seemed close, too close, far too close.

“Wait…”

Surely they were done for.

The approaching army reached the pipe, came level, shuffled further and–

“Fire!”

Chapter XXVIII

Miss Deering-Dolittle

Silence.

The noise of the echo was extraordinary, but Earnestine dropped to her knee and started reloading, counting in her head to follow Charlotte’s quick lesson –
one… two…
The bolt came back, the spent round expelled and then she rammed it home, it went in… thank you, thank you.

Bang–bang–bang… bang–bang… bang!

That was Charlotte’s revolver emptying.

Earnestine was up, aim…
aim
, she forced herself to take her time, Charlotte’s drill ringing in her ears along with the gunshots. She picked one, the nearest struggling over the bodies of its compatriots… good heavens, she thought, Charlotte must have clocked one with each of her six rounds. Mustn’t let the side down, Earnestine thought, there… squeeze and–

Bang!

The monster’s head exploded.

Down, reload.

A hail of spent cartridges hailed down as Charlotte emptied the chambers of the revolver. She was quick, her hand reaching into one of her pockets for fresh shells.

Bang!
Georgina fired quickly above her making Earnestine jump despite the hammering they’d already been subjected to.

Earnestine stood, there was another easy target, so she fired – too quickly and she only winged the creature.

Amazing how elegant the .303 rifle was, the burnished steel bolt and the fine wooden stock with its grain and–

Bang–bang… zing! Bang–bang–bang… bang.

Earnestine couldn’t get her fingers to work, the stupid dumb bolt thing jammed, caught on the edge of the chamber–

“Ness, take your time,” said Charlotte’s excited tones cut through the percussion.

Cartridges fanned out in the light like shooting stars, tumbling through space as Charlotte had flipped open the revolver and thrown the smoking brass cylinders free. They bounced off approaching corpses.

The bolt went home.

Charlotte overtook her, standing to fire again, this time with the rifle. She was clearly saving the revolver for emergencies.

Earnestine stood too and fired, a double explosion with her sister:
bBANGg!

Reloading.

Georgina stood, firing once.

Earnestine brought her rifle up, thumping it against her shoulder. They were bearing down now, the targets looming large and easy.

Down again, chasing Charlotte and feeling a flush as if she was on the lawn knocking the balls around with ease, the mallet singing, the hoops–