For a moment, deep, deep down under, I saw old bits of houses and even a whole dented carriage, a door, and I was right on the edge of this widening gap, staring in. Looking down and down. Leaning into it. Down and down. It was then that I think I saw someone. Some person deep down below, moving in and out of the drowned rubbish. Someone alive down there. Was it an animal, or some sort of dark fish, or was it a person?

Smack! Something was grabbing at me, tugging me away.

A heap Iremonger had hold of me and wrenched me back. I knew I should have gone in there, deep underground, but for him, I felt it calling to me. But I was pulled back, and the heap Iremonger that did it punched me hard on the arm to wake me up and I could see but not hear that in his helmet he was shouting, his fog inside big and white. And on I went then, stepping far around the crack, still on. Twice I saw the same old boot just by me, as if it was following me, I think it was the same boot, it was black and its toe was slightly open so that it looked like a mouth. On, I must go on, on into the muck or be cut loose. I pulled myself one leg after the other, each foot going deep in. Up again, down again. Then I saw something small and shining skimming along the surface, it was a little watch I think, on a chain. I tried to grab it but it kept dancing ahead of me. I heaved after it, so close, so close, spinning in the wind. I dived for it, nearly had it, I touched the chain, but it was gone again, no sight of it, suddenly lost beneath the surface. Then, turning round, I saw that I was on my own at last, that the other heap Iremongers were far behind me. That was a bad moment that was. I screamed inside my helmet. The glass was so fogged I couldn’t see for a few moments and when at last it cleared, I thought how much darker it had grown. The sky so black. The storm closing in.