Read A Girl Called Badger (Valley of the Sleeping Birds) for Free Online Page B

scraped the sides of the maintenance shaft as he climbed down.
    “Good thing you’re not afraid of tight spaces,” said Robb.
    Wilson stopped in the middle and scowled as he looked up. “You’re not making this easier.”
    He grabbed the lantern and rope at the bottom. A rucksack fell through the shaft and smacked the floor next to Wilson.
    “Watch out below!” yelled Robb.
    Wilson shook his head. “I’m going to murder this kid.”
    “What?”
    “Just get down here.”
    “What?”
    Robb’s feet scraped on the rungs and he hopped a short distance to the floor.
    “What did you say?” he asked.
    “I said your hair looks nice today.”
    “That’s not what you said.”
    Floating particles of dust glowed in the lantern-light. To Wilson’s left the corridor disappeared into darkness. The metal bubble of another hatch stuck from the floor on the right side. Someone had stenciled “Maintenance” in block letters on the wall, and near the access ladder, “Level One” in faded white paint.
    Across the corridor a metal floor plan had been fastened to the wall with screws. The title read “Altmann Research Station Administration Level One” and below that, “Emergency Exits In Red.” There were more rooms than Wilson had expected from Father Reed’s instructions.
    Robb peered at the sign, his nose almost touching the metal. “What’s adm ... admister ... ation?”
    “I’d happily tell you Robb, but it wouldn’t be safe for the tiny mouse brain rattling around in your skull. You’d probably have a stroke.”
    “I’m not a mouse brain––you are.”
    “Exactly.”
    Wilson bent over the metal bubble in the floor and pulled with both hands. The round hatch squealed open and air boiled out that smelled of dust and dry metal. Wilson lit Robb’s lantern and placed it next to the hatch, then used the rope to lower his own lantern down the new shaft. It guttered as it hit the floor and Wilson climbed down. His moccasins left prints and kicked up soft dust on the ground.
    Wilson looked at the floor plan for the level and waited for Robb. The corridor looked identical to the one above. To his right was a concrete wall and another access hatch in the floor.
    At last Robb stepped from the ladder with a rattle of gear and the reluctance of a bored teenager.
    “Ekeeru!” said Wilson.
    “What?”
    “It means ‘let’s go’ in the dialect.”
    “Loser. Hey, I know another word for moron. It’s ‘Wilson.’”
    “Ha ha. Look for anything that says ‘Maintenance’ or ‘Water.’”
    They passed doors with yellowed title plates such as “Personnel,” “Planning,” and “Logistics.” The corridor split to the left and right. Wilson saw doors and pulled Robb to the left. The second door they passed was marked “HPWP Maintenance––Restricted Personnel Only.” Wilson felt a faint vibration through his feet.
    “This one,” he said, and pushed the door lever.
    Dim red lights snapped on. A pair of dusty metal consoles filled the small room. The left machine was labeled “HP Manage” and the right “WP Manage.” Both were covered in labeled dials and knobs and connected to the rear wall by a quartet of dull black pipes.
    Robb pointed at a red book. “What’s that?”
    A cable secured it to a small shelf between the two machines. The thin volume was oddly heavy. The cover felt like leather and was embossed with a large question mark. Heat Pump and Water Pump Maintenance was at the bottom in small type.
    “Work some of that magic,” said Robb. “I’m hungry.”
    “Hang on.”
    Inside the book were large, simple symbols with English text and a few other languages Wilson didn’t recognize. He stopped trying to guess and read the English as he flipped each page. At last he found “No Heat in Water ReCirc.” A diagram on the facing page illustrated how to open a panel and change two switches. Wilson followed the arrows and the floor vibrated intensely for a few seconds. He compared an