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They rolled a short distance, and the sounds of the stream
fell behind. It suddenly grew dark, and Flint knew they had
entered a tunnel. His arms began to ache so that he could no
longer hold onto the bouncing axle brace. Unclenching his
stiff hands, arms, and legs, he dropped to the sandy ground,
being careful to avoid the enormous iron wheels. He
crouched in the darkness, waiting until the wagon had rum-
bled out of earshot. His heat-sensing infravision responded
only dimly in the cold tunnel, outlining the walls in faint
red.
Flint took two short steps, his boots crunching softly on
the tunnel floor. Then he froze. A second click, following
the sound of his own footstep, came from the right. Then
another, from higher up, and another even higher. When he
heard something snap directly overhead, Flint twisted des-
perately and threw himself to the left, but it was too late. A
cage of iron bars slammed down around him, and he
crashed into its side. Furiously Flint grasped the bars with
both hands and pushed, pulled, lifted, and rattled them, but
the cage was too heavy to budge. He dropped to his knees
and scraped at the tunnel floor
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