Tunnels (35 page)
"What is it, Will?" Chester asked, sensing that something was wrong. "Is it bad news?" He took a step away from Will.
"You all right?" Will replied, too preoccupied to answer his friend as he listened to the Second Officer leave the Hold through the oak door and close it firmly. Then he took Chester into the corner of the cell and they huddled together while Will explained what they had to do.
Minutes later came the sound that Will was dreading: The Second Officer was walking back into the Hold toward them. "Time, gentlemen," he said. He turned the key and opened the door, and Will made his way out slowly.
"Bye, Chester," he said.
As the Second Officer began to close the door, Will put his hand on the man's arm.
"Just a second, I think I left something in there," he said.
"What's that?" the man asked.
The Second Officer was looking directly at him as
Wil
brought his hand out of his pocket. He saw that the little red light was on: The camera was ready. Thrusting it at the man, Will clicked the shutter.
The flash caught the policeman full in the face. He howled and dropped his keys, clapping his hands over his eyes as he sank to the floor. The flash had been so bright compared with the sublime glow of the light orbs that even Will and Chester, who had both shielded themselves from it, felt the aftershock of its brilliance.
"Sorry," Will said to the groaning man.
Chester was standing motionless in the cell, a stupefied look on his face.
"Get a move on, Chester!" Will shouted as he leaned in and yanked him past the Second Officer, who was starting to fumble his way to the wall, still moaning horribly.
As they entered the reception area, Will happened to glance over the counter.
"My shovel!" he exclaimed as he ducked underneath and grabbed it from against the wall. Will was on his way back when he saw the Second Officer stagger out from the Hold. The man snatched blindly at Chester, and before Will knew what was happening he had gotten hold of him around the neck.
Chester let out a strangled yelp and tried to wrestle free.
Will didn't stop to think. He swung the shovel. With a bone-crunching clang, it connected with the Second Officer's forehead, and he crumpled to the floor with a whimper.
Chester wasn't so slow off the mark this time. He was right behind Will as they bolted out of the station, pausing just long enough for Will to retrieve his backpack before they both turned down the stretch of road that Chester had spent so many hours watching from his cell. Then they veered off down a side tunnel.
"Is this the right way?" Chester said, breathing heavily and coughing.
Will didn't answer but kept on running until they reached the end of the tunnel.
There they were, just as Tam had described them, three partially demolished houses on the perimeter of a circular cavern as large as an amphitheater. The rich, loamy surface was springy underfoot as they tramped over it, and the air reeked of old manure. The walls of the cavern caught Will's attention. What at first he'd taken to be clusters of stalagmites were, in fact, petrified tree trunks, some broken halfway down and others twisted around each other. These fossilized remains stood like a carved stone forest in the shadows.
Will felt increasingly uneasy, as if something unwholesome and threatening was radiating from between the ancient trees. He was relieved when they reached the middle house and pushed through the front door, which opened crookedly on a single hinge.
"Through the hall, straight ahead…"
Chester shouldered the door shut behind them as Will entered the kitchen. It was roomier than the one in the Jerome house. As they crossed the tiled floor, a thick carpet of dust was stirred into life. It whipped up into a miniature storm, and in the glow of the light orb every movement they made left a trace in the airborne motes.
"Locate the wall tile with the painted cross."
Will found it and pushed. A small hatch clicked open under his hand. Inside was a handle. He twisted it to the right, and a whole section of the tiled wall opened outward — it was a cleverly disguised door. Behind was an antechamber with boxes stacked on either side and a further door set into its far wall. But this was no ordinary door — it was made of heavy iron studded with rivets, and there was a handle by its side to crank it open.
"It's airtight —
keps
the
germules
out."
There was an inspection porthole at head height, but no light was visible through the clouded glass.
"Get going on that while I find the breathing apparatus," Will ordered Chester, pointing at the crank. His friend leaned on the handle, and there was a loud hiss as the thick rubber seal at the base of the door lifted from the ground. Will found the masks Tam had said would be left there, old canvas hoods with black rubber pipes attached to cylinders. They resembled some sort of ancient diving equipment.
Then, from the dark outside, Will heard a plaintive mew. He knew what it was even before he'd turned around.
"Bartleby!" The cat scampered in through the hallway. His paws scratched scrabbling excitedly in the dust, he went straight to the secret door, shoving his muzzle into the gap and sniffing inquisitively.
"What is
that?
" Chester was so flabbergasted by the vision of the oversized cat that he let go of the crank handle. It spun freely as the door trundled down on its runners and slammed shut. Bartleby leaped back.
"For heavens sake, Chester, just get that door open!" Will shouted.
Chester nodded and began again.
"Need a hand?"
"No! Not you, too! What the heck are you doing here?" Will gasped.
"Coming with you,"
Chester stopped turning the crank and glanced rapidly from one brother to the other and back again. "He looks just like you!"
Will had reached a point at which the whole situation had taken on an insanity all its own, a random and hopeless insanity. Tam's plan was falling apart before his very eyes, and he had the most awful feeling that they were all going to be caught. He had to get things back on track… somehow… and
quickly.
"FOR GOODNESS' SAKE, GET THAT DOOR OPEN, WILL YOU!" he bawled at the top of his voice, and Chester meekly resumed the cranking. The door was now a foot and a half off the ground, and Bartleby stuck his head under for an exploratory look, dropped low, and then slid through the opening, disappearing from sight altogether.
"Tam doesn't know you're here, does he?" Will grabbed his brother by his coat collar.
"Of course not. I decided it was time to go Topsoil, like you and Mother."
"You're not coming," Will snarled through gritted teeth. Then, as he saw the hurt in his brother's face, he let go of his coat and softened his voice. "Really, you can't… Uncle Tam would kill you for being here. Go home right—" Will never finished the sentence. Both he and Cal had smelled the strong pulses of ammonia rippling through the air.
"The alarm!"
They heard a commotion outside, some shouting, and then the crash of breaking glass. They ran to the kitchen window and peered through the cracked panes.
"Styx!"
Will estimated there were at least thirty of them drawn up in a semicircle in front of the house, and those were just the ones he could see from his limited vantage point. How many there were in total, he shuddered to think. He ducked down and shot a glance at Chester, who was frenziedly cranking the door, the opening now high enough for them to get through.
Will looked at his brother and knew there was only one thing to do. He couldn't leave him at the mercy of the Styx.
"Go on! Get under the door," he whispered urgently.
face lit up and he started to thank Will, who shoved the breathing apparatus into his hands and propelled him toward the door.
As
Then one of those terrible things happened.
One of those events that, afterward, you replay in your mind over and over again… but you know, deep down, there was nothing you could have done.
That was when they heard it.
A voice they both knew.
"Same old Will," she said, rooting them to the spot.
Will was halfway under the door, his hand gripping Chester's forearm, ready to pull him in, when he glanced at the kitchen entrance and froze.
A young girl walked into the room, two Styx flanking her.
"Rebecca?" Will gasped, and shook his head as if his eyes were deceiving him.
"Rebecca!" he said again, incredulously.
"Where are we going, then?" she said coolly. The two Styx edged forward a fraction, but she held up her hand and they halted.
Was this some trick? She was wearing their clothes, their uniform — the black coat with the stark white shirt. And her jet-black hair was different — it was raked back tightly over her head.
"What are you…" was all Will managed to say before words failed him.
She'd been captured. That must be it. Brainwashed, or held hostage.
"Why do we keep doing these things?" She sighed theatrically, raising one eyebrow. She looked relaxed and in control. Something wasn't right here: something jarred.
No
She was one of them.
"You're…" he gasped.
Rebecca laughed. "Quick, isn't he?"
Behind her, more Styx were entering the kitchen. Will's mind reeled, his memories playing back at breakneck speed as he tried to reconcile Rebecca, his sister, with this Styx girl before him. Were there signs, any clues he'd missed?
"How?" he cried.
Reveling in his confusion, Rebecca spoke. "It's really very simple. I was placed in your family when I was two. It's the way with us… to rub shoulders with the Heathen… It's the training for the elite."
She took a step forward.
"Don't!" Will said, his mind starting to work again, and his hand surreptitiously reaching inside his coat pocket. "I can't believe it!"
"Hard to accept, isn't it? I was put there to keep an eye on you — and, if we were lucky, flush your mother into the open… your real mother."
"It's not true."
"It doesn't matter what you believe," she replied curtly. "My job had run its course, so here I am, back home again. No more role-playing."
"No!" Will stuttered as he closed his hand around the little cloth package that Tam had given him.
"Come on, it's over," Rebecca said impatiently. With a barely perceptible nod of her head, the Styx on either side of her lurched forward, but Will was ready. He slung the node stone across the kitchen with all his might. It soared between the two advancing Styx and struck the dirty white tiles, breaking into a tiny snowstorm of fragments.
Everything stopped.
For a split second, Will thought nothing was going to happen, that it wasn't going to work. He heard Rebecca laugh, a dry, mocking laugh.
Then there was a whooshing sound, as if air was being sucked from the room. Each tiny splinter, as it sprinkled to the ground, flared with a dazzling incandescence, loosing beams that blasted the room like a million searchlights. These were so intense that everything was shot through with an unbearable, searing whiteness.
It didn't seem to bother Rebecca in the slightest. With the light ablaze around her, she stood out like some dark angel, her arms folded in her characteristic pose as she clucked with disapproval.
But the two advancing Styx stopped in their tracks and let out screams like fingernails being dragged down a blackboard. They staggered back blindly, trying to cover their eyes.
This gave Will the opportunity he was looking for. He yanked Chester over, pulling him from the crank handle.
But already the light was dwindling, and another two Styx were pushing aside their blinded comrades. They lunged at Will, their
clawlike
fingers raking out toward him. As he continued to pull on one of Chester's arms both Styx had latched on to the other. It turned into a tug-of-war between Will and the Styx, with the terrified whimpering Chester caught in the middle. Worse still, now that nobody was bracing the crank handle, it was whirring wildly around as the massive door sank slowly down on its runners. And Chester was right in its path.
"Push them off!" Will cried.
Chester tried to kick out, but it was no use; they had too strong a hold on him. Will wedged himself against the door in a vain attempt to slow its progress, but it was just too heavy and nearly unbalanced him. There was no way he could do anything about it and save Chester at the same time.
As the Styx grunted and strained, and Chester tried with all his might to resist, Will knew the Styx couldn't be beaten. Chester was slipping out of his hands and screaming in pain as the Styx's fingernails bit deep into the flesh of his arm.
Then, as the door continued its relentless descent, the realization hit Will — Chester was going to be crushed unless he let go.
Unless he released Chester to the Styx. The crank handle was spinning madly. The door was little more than three feet from the ground, and Chester was doubled over — its entire weight pressing down on his back. Will had to do something and quick.
"Chester, I'm sorry!" Will screamed.
For an instant, Chester stared with horror-stricken eyes into those of his friend, and then Will let go of his arm and he flew straight back into the Styx, the momentum bowling them over in a tumbling confusion of arms and legs. Chester shouted Will's name once as the door clanged down with a terrible finality. Will could only watch numbly through the milky glass of the porthole as Chester and the Styx came to rest in a heap against the wall. One of the Styx immediately picked himself up and raced back toward the door.
