The Rome Prophecy

130

Tom is either unconscious or dead.

Guilio’s not sure which.

The tilting floor is jammed open, caught by the rubble that has piled up. He kneels on the edge of the safe part and stares into the abyss. ‘Are you all right? Can you hear me?’

He knows he can’t afford to wait here. Such a loud noise may well have been heard in the other chambers. Galli guards could already be on their way.

Maybe he should just leave him.

But he knows he can’t.

He shuffles closer to the collapsed wall and shines his torch down into the blackness.

About a metre beneath him he sees what he thinks is Tom’s body.

He moves the light around. Tom appears to be collapsed on some kind of ledge.

It’s not a ledge.

Guilio can see more clearly now. The fallen debris has all slid into a heap, like slurry from the back of a tipper lorry, and Tom is face-down on top of it all.

Hardly a soft landing, but no doubt better than falling all the way to the bottom – wherever the bottom eventually is.

Guilio slips the rucksack off his back and dangles his legs over the edge.

It’s trickier to get down than he first thought.

It seems the only safe place to jump is actually on top of Tom. If he does that, then apart from hurting him even more, there’s a risk he will dislodge the pile of rubble and send them both crashing into the depths of the hole.

He sits and tries to work out what to do.

The pit beneath him stinks worse than a sewer.

Tom lets out a weak groan.

He’s coming round.

Tom moves his left arm. His fingers feel rock. He tries to get a grip to turn himself over.

‘Careful!’ shouts Guilio. ‘You’ve fallen into a hole. Don’t turn to your right or you’ll drop even further.’

He’s not sure if Tom’s heard him.

There’s another groan.

No, not a groan.

And it’s not coming from Tom.

Guilio suddenly recognises the awful smell.

Animal dung.

There’s something down there.

Some kind of animal is making its way across the floor of the pit.

‘Tom! Move yourself! There’s something coming for you!’