The Antipope by Robert Rankin

go off in search of a few dog biscuits. Soap had always been impervious. Thus it came as something of a shock to find himself and Omally now standing in the tiny front garden whilst Soap shushed them into silence and felt about in his pockets for the key.
    “Now,” said Soap in a voice of deadly seriousness, “before you enter I must ask that all you may see within must never be divulged to another living soul.”
    Pooley, who had been in the Scouts for a day, raised two fingers to his forehead and said, “Dib-Dib-Dib.” Omally, who was finding it hard to keep a straight face, licked his thumb and said, “See this wet, see this dry, cut my throat if I tell a lie.”
    Soap shrugged. “I suppose I can expect no more. Now come, step carefully because the light will not function until the front door is closed and bolted from within.” He turned the key and pushed the door open into the Stygian darkness within.
    “You seem somewhat security-conscious, Soap,” said Omally.
    Invisibly in the darkness Soap tapped his nose. “One cannot be too careful when one is Keeper of the Great Mystery.”
    Pooley whistled. “The Great Mystery, eh?”
    Soap threw the bolt, made several inexplicable clicking noises with what seemed to be switches and suddenly the room was ablaze with light.
    “My God,” said Omally in a voice several octaves higher than usual. As the two stood blinking in the brightness Soap studied their faces with something approaching glee. These were the first mortals other than himself ever to see his masterwork and their awe and bewilderment were music to his eyes. “What do you think then?”
    Omally was speechless. Pooley just said, “By the gods!”
    The wall dividing the front room from the back parlour had been removed along with all the floorboards and joists on the ground floor. The section of flooring on which the three now stood was nothing more than the head of a staircase which led down and down into an enormous cavern of great depth which had been excavated obviously with elaborate care and over a long period of time. A ladder led up to the bedroom, the staircase having been long ago removed.
    Omally stared down into the blackness of the mighty pit which yawned below him. “Where does it go to?” he asked.
    “Down,” said Soap. “Always down but also around and about.”
    “I must be going now,” said Pooley, “must be up and making an early start, lots to do.”
    “You’ve seen nothing yet,” said Soap, “this is only the entrance.”
    Omally was shaking his head in wonder. “You dug this then?”
    “No, not just me.” Soap laughed disturbingly. “My great-grandfather began it shortly after the house was built, the lot fell then to my grandfather and down the line to me, last of the Distants, and guardian of the Great Mystery.”
    “It’s madness,” said Omally, “the whole street will collapse.”
    Soap laughed again. “No, never, my family have the know as it were, they worked upon the Thames tunnel back in the days of Brunei.”
    “But that collapsed.”
    “Never, that’s what the authorities said. The truth was that the navigators who dug that ill-fated pit stumbled upon an entrance to the worlds beneath and the tunnel had to be closed hurriedly and an excuse found to please the public.”
    “You mean your old ones actually met up with these folk below?”
    “Certainly. Shall we go down then?” said Soap.
    Pooley said, “I’ll wait here.”
    “I invited you in for a drink and a drink you are going to have.”
    “I think that I am no longer thirsty,” said Jim, “and after this, I think that I might take a vow of abstinence.”
    “God,” said Omally, “don’t say such a thing even in jest.”
    “Come on then,” said Soap, “I will lead the way, it is not far to the first chamber.”
    “First chamber?”
    “Oh, yes, the caverns lead down into the bowels of the earth and subsidiary tunnels reach out in all directions, some for several miles at a