The cone of light from their flashlights shimmered before them, bringing the shadows to life. And just as Teresa was beginning to wonder how much further they would have to descend into that inferno of rock and water, the wailing picked up once more, as if to answer her question. It was close. Behind Teresa, Gloria let out a soft moan, an instinctive response to her baby’s call.

The tunnel started to curve and slope downwards. Teresa hadn’t brought a gun, as she didn’t want to run the risk, in case they were attacked, of losing her cool and harming the child by mistake. But without it she felt helpless.

They heard a sullen grunt issuing from somewhere in the darkness, and stopped walking. It was a half-human, half-animal sound, and for a moment, it made their blood freeze. It was impossible to describe. It filled them with terror and seemed to turn their bodies into dead weight.

Slowly, Teresa turned around. The sound had come from a small tunnel to her right. The light from her headlamp shone upon a figure crouching a few yards from where they stood, facing away from them. It was Andreas Hoffman, holding a bundle in his arms. He was trying to put something in the child’s mouth. When he saw the gleam of the torch, he turned around.

The shaft of light hit him square on the face, and at last Teresa could see his eyes. They really were as blue as David Knauss had described them. But they were green, too. Andreas’s eyes were heterochromatic.

She put her hands in the air and hoped that Gloria, standing behind her, would do the same. He growled, like a wild animal. As far as Teresa knew, he could speak a few words and was able to copy other people’s speech when necessary. But it was obvious that in that moment his instincts had already taken over.

Very slowly, Teresa removed her helmet with the headlamp and put it on the floor so that the light wouldn’t bother him but would continue to illuminate the alcove he was hiding in.

The baby let out another cry, and Andreas attempted once again to feed him what looked, to Teresa, like a thin slice of meat. He seemed to have forgotten about their presence, as if he had suddenly found something more important to do that required his full attention. Teresa could tell that he was scared, but what Andreas feared most wasn’t their presence: it was the fact that the baby wouldn’t eat.

“No,” she told him softly.

He looked at her again. He had high cheekbones and regular features, framed by a beard and long hair. He looked younger than he was, though life outdoors had roughened his skin. He was tall, and even though he was wrapped in a mutton coat, Teresa could tell that he was physically fit.