Tunnels 02 - Deeper

by Roderick Gordon

  "Phew, that's better!" Will said, running a finger around the inside of his sweat-soaked shirt collar. "Bit cooler now!"

  Chester couldn't have been more relieved that Will appeared to have pulled himself out of the appalling melancholy into which he'd sunk. In fact, he was chatting away quite normally, although it felt so much quieter without Cal there to badger them. As if his mind were playing tricks on him, Chester had the oddest feeling that the boy was still there with them. He found himself glancing around in an effort to locate him.

  "Hey, this feels sort of chalky," Will noted as they clambered up the slope, slipping and stumbling as the light-colored substrate shifted beneath them. For the last stretch, the incline had become more pronounced, and they had been forced to climb it on all fours.

  Will suddenly stopped to pluck a rock the size of a tennis ball. "Wow! A fine specimen of a desert rose." Chester saw the pale pink blades that radiated out from a central point to the pale pink blades with his nail. "Yep, this is gypsum, all right. Nice, isn't it?" he said to Chester, who didn't have time to answer before Will was spouting forth again. "A fine example." He glanced around. "So there must have been evaporation going on here for the last century or so — unless, of course, this was buried and it's much older. Anyway, think I'll keep it," he said, slipping off his rucksack.

  "You're going to do what? It's just a hunk of rock!"

  "No, it's not rock. It's actually a mineral formation. Imagine some sort of sea right here." Will opened his arms expansively. "As it dries up, the salts all come out of solution and… well, the rest of what you see is sedimentary. You know about sedimentary rocks, don't you?"

  "No, I don't," Chester admitted, studying his friend carefully.

  "Well, you have three classes of rock: sedimentary, igneous, and metamorphic," Will blathered on. "My favorites are sedimentary, just like we're finding down here, because there's a story in them, from the fossils you get in them. They're formed…"

  "Will," Chester said gently.

  "…formed generally on the surface, mostly underwater. Why would you find sedimentary rocks so deep in the earth? I wonder." He looked mystified at his own question, then answered it. "Yes, I suppose there must have been a subterranean lake or something here."

  "Will!" Chester tried again.

  "Anyway, sedimentary rocks are cool — I don't mean cool as in cold, as opposed to hot, not hot like lava, which are the igneous rocks, which are…"

  "Will, stop it!" Chester shouted, becoming quite alarmed by his friend's bizarre behavior.

  "…called the first great class because they're formed from hot, molten…" Will trailed off in midsentence.

  "Get a grip, Will. What the heck are you talking about?" Chester's voice was hoarse with desperation. "What's wrong with you?"

  "I don't know," Will replied, shaking his head.

  "Well, shut up and concentrate on what we're doing. I don't need a freakin' lecture."

  "Right." Will blinked around him as if he'd wandered out of a fog and couldn't quite figure out where he was. He realized the desert rose was still in his hand and he lobbed it away. Then he put his rucksack back on. Chester watched him with concern as he set off again.

  They were approaching the high point of the slope, and the floor began leveling off. A ray of light streaked through the air and raked across the ceiling. It looked like a distant spotlight of some sort. As a precaution, Chester turned his lantern down to a mere glimmer and, at his insistence, Will did the same.

  They crawled along the last stretch, keeping low, with Chester making sure that Will, in his unpredictable state of mind, stayed tucked in behind him. At the top, they peered over, into a large circular space the size of a stadium. It could have been a moon crater, it looked so barren and dusty.

  "Dang, Will, look at this," Chester whispered, waving his friend alongside him and hastily switching off his lantern altogether. "Do you see them? They look exactly like Styx, but they're dressed like soldiers or something."

  On the floor of the crater, the boys could make out that there were around ten Styx — although their clothes were unfamiliar, their thin bodies and the way they carried themselves meant they couldn't be anything else — and two of them had stalker dogs. The men were drawn up in a single line, with a further Styx standing slightly forward from them and brandishing a large lantern. Although the base of the crater was illuminated by four large light orbs mounted on tripods, the main Styx's lantern was phenomenally powerful, and he was directing in on something before him.

  A tremor went through Chester's body — as he watched the Styx, he felt as though he had stumbled upon a nest of the most evil and poisonous snakes imaginable. "Oh, I hate them," he growled through his clenched teeth.

  "Hmmm," Will answered vaguely as he casually examined a pebble with glittering striations that had caught his eye, then flicked it away with his thumb.

  It didn't take a clinical psychologist to recognize that something was wrong with him; that his brother's death had knocked a screw loose.

  "Hello! Earth to Will! You're acting pretty spacey," Chester said. "Those are Styx down there, murderous, mind-warping Styx."

  "Yeah," Will said. "Sure are."

  Chester was stunned by his total lack of concern. "Well, they make my skin crawl. Let's just get away from here," he suggested urgently, beginning to edge back.

  "See the Coprolites," Will said, pointing carelessly at the scene below.

  "What?" Chester grunted as he tried to locate them. "Where?"

  "There… opposite the Styx…" Will replied, pushing himself up on his arms to get a better view. "Right there in his light."

  "Where exactly?" Chester asked again in a whisper. He glanced at Will beside him and immediately growled, "You numskull, get your head down! They'll see you!"

  "Okey-doke," Will replied, ducking lower.

  Chester turned back to the scene and, despite the lancing shaft of light from the Styx's lantern, it wasn't until one of them stirred that he located it (or him or her, for that matter — Chester found it hard to think of the lumbering Coprolites as people). The Coprolites' eye-beams were barely noticeable in the well-lit area, and their mushroom-colored suits merged so effectively with the stone of the crater floor that, having found one, Chester still had great difficulty picking out the others. In fact, there were quite a number of them, standing in an uneven row opposite the Styx.

  "Just how many are there?" he asked Will.

  "Can't say. Twenty or so?"

  The main Styx was pacing between the two groups. He would strut up and down and then abruptly wheel to face the Coprolites, thrusting his lantern at them. Although the boys couldn't hear anything he was saying, from the jerking motion of his arms and rapid switching of his head, it was clear he was shouting at the Coprolites. The boys watched for several minutes, until Will became restless and started to fidget.

  "I'm hungry. Got that chewing gum?"

  "You've got to be kidding — how can you be hungry at a time like this?" Chester asked him.

  "I don't know… just give me some, will you?" Will whined.

  "Pull yourself together, Will," Chester urged, not moving his eyes from the Styx. "You know where the gum is."

  In his befuddled state, it took Will forever to undo the flap on the side pocket of Chester's rucksack. Muttering to himself, he rummaged around until he found the green packet of chewing gum. He put it in front of him as he refastened the flap.

  "Want a piece?" he asked Chester.

  "No, I do not."

  Dropping it several times as though his hands were numb, Will finally tore open the packet and pried out one of the sticks. With his fumbling fingers, he was on the verge of sliding the paper casing off the silver foil when both boys let out simultaneous gasps.

  They felt a crushing pressure on their backs as knives were thrust against their throats.

  "Don't make a sound." The voice was low and guttural, as if it wasn't accustomed to being used. It came from a point
very close behind Will's head.

  Chester swallowed loudly.

  "And don't move a muscle."

  Will let the stick of gum slip from his hand.

  "I can smell that stinking stuff already, and you haven't even opened it yet."

  Will tried to speak.

  "I said shut up." The knife dug even harder into Will's neck. He felt the pressure on his back increase, and a mittened hand reached between him and Chester and began to scoop a hole in the loose gravel.

  The boys both watched from the corners of their eyes, not daring to move their heads an inch. It was almost hypnotic, a disembodied hand in a black mitten digging itself a small hole, little by little.

  Chester suddenly couldn't stop himself from shaking. Had he and Will been caught by Styx? Or if not Styx, who were they? His mind filled with panic-ridden thoughts about what might happen next. Were these people going to slit their throats and bury them here, in this hole? He couldn't take his eyes off it.

  Then the hand very deliberately took the packet of chewing gum between thumb and forefinger, and dropped it into the hole.

  "That piece, too," the man's voice ordered. Will did as he was told, throwing the unopened stick in the hole.

  Then the hand, in precise movements, scraped the gypsum gravel back into the hole, until the chewing gum was completely buried.

  "That'll help, but the smell's still strong," the man's voice came again after the interlude. "If you had opened it, the stalker nearest to us…" The voice trailed off, then resumed again. "You can see it down there… would've picked up the scent in a matter of… what do you think?"

  There was a pause during which Will wasn't sure if he was meant to be answering, and then they heard a different and slightly softer voice. This second one came from behind Chester. "They're downwind," it said, "so a couple of seconds at most."

  The man spoke again. "Then the Limiters would've slipped the dogs off their reins, and they'd have followed close behind. You'd be dead 'uns, like those poor wretches down there." He drew breath somberly. "You should watch this."

  In spite of the threat from the knives at their throats, both Will and Chester made a concerted effort to focus on what was happening below.

  The main Styx swung around and barked a command. Three men in clothes of neutral color were each escorted into the center of the crater by a pair of Styx. Will and Chester hadn't spotted them before because they had been huddled in the shadows beyond the scope of the floodlights. They were pushed beside the group of Coprolites, and their escorts returned to the Styx line.

  The head Styx barked another order and held his right hand high as a number of his men stepped forward and put their rifles to their shoulders. Then, with a staccato shout, the Styx dropped his hand, and flashes exploded from the barrels of the firing squad. Two of the three figures fell immediately. The remaining one tottered for a moment before he, too, went over, collapsing across the other downed men. As the last echoes of the shots reverberated around the crater and an eerie silence filled the place, none of the three moved. It had all happened so quickly.

  "No," Will said, not believing his eyes. "The Styx… they didn't?"

  "Yes, you have just witnessed an execution," came the man's inexpressive voice from close behind his head. "And those were our people, our friends."

  With another order, the firing squad passed their rifles to their nearest comrades. Then they each drew some glinting weapon from their sides and took several paces forward. There was a horrible inevitability to it as the advancing Styx each strode up to a Coprolite in the opposing line.

  The boys watched as the Styx soldiers lunged at the Coprolites, who simply dropped to the ground like felled trees before them.

  The other Coprolites stood in their higgledy-piggledy line, facing in all directions. They made no move to help their fallen brothers and, what was even more astounding, they didn’t seem to react to their deaths at all. It was as if, right in the middle of a herd, cattle had been killed, and the rest of them had just accepted it like dumb animals might.

  The gruff voice spoke again. "Enough of this. You can feel our knives. We will use them if you don't do exactly as you are told. Is that understood?"

  Both boys mumbled a "yes," feeling the blades press harder into their skin.

  "Put your arms behind your backs," the quieter voice ordered.

  The boys' wrists were bound tightly, then their heads were lifted roughly by their hair and blindfolds tied around them.

  As hands grabbed their ankles, they were mercilessly dragged on their fronts, back down the steep slope behind them. Not able to resist, they tried to arch their heads and keep their faces away from the ground racing beneath them.

  Then, with equal roughness, they were manhandled up onto their feet, and both felt something being attached to the bindings around their wrists. They were yanked on by these, each boy hearing the stumbling steps of the other, and led at breakneck speed down the remainder of the slope, leaning back lest they fall. Will guessed that they'd been tethered together, like two beasts off to the slaughterhouse.

  At the bottom of the slope, Chester lost his footing and rumbled over, pulling Will with him.

  "Get up, you slop bags!" the man hissed. "Or we'll finish both of you, here and now."

  Using each other for support, the boys heaved themselves to their feet again.

  "Move," the other one snarled, striking Will so hard on his wounded shoulder that he let loose a wail of pain. He heard his captor take a step back in surprise.

  Will's hurt and fear, coming on top of the intense feelings of loss for Cal, suddenly made something flip in his head. He stood his ground and spoke in a low, threatening voice.

  "Do that again, and I'll…"

  "What?" the voice said. It was gentler than it had been before, and Will noticed for the first time that it had a youthful and feminine edge to it. "What will you do?" it asked again.

  "You're a girl, aren't you?" Will said, rather incredulously. Without waiting for a response, he clenched his bound hands together and squared up to her — which was difficult considering he had no idea where she was actually standing.

  "I'll call in our backup," he said fiercely, remembering the line from one of his mother's favorite television series.

  "Backup? What's that?" she asked hesitantly.

  "A handpicked team of men are monitoring your every move," he added, with as much conviction as he could muster. "All I have to do is give the signal. You'll be taken out."

  "He's bluffing," came the man's voice. It, too, had lost some of its sternness, and there was even a hint of amusement in it. "They're alone. We didn't see anyone with them, did we, Elliott?" He spoke directly to Will. "If you don't cooperate, I'll run your friend through with my knife."

  This had the desired effect on Will, bringing him quickly back to earth.

  "All right, all right, I'll come quietly, but you'd better watch it. Don't mess with us, or…" Will trailed off. He figured he'd pushed his luck as far as he could and began to move forward again, bumping into Chester, who had been listening to his friend with total bewilderment.

  21

  "And it is written in the Book of Catastrophes that the people shall return to their rightful place from the Ark of the Earth, at such time that the unholy deluge has withdrawn. And the people will once again plow the unplowed fields, rebuild the leveled cities, and fill the wasted lands with their pure seed. So it is said, and so shall it be," the Styx preacher boomed.

  In the confines of the small stone room in the Garrison building, he towered above her kneeling form, his clawlike hands raking the air around him, his burning eyes and his black cloak making him look like some terrible visitation.

  His cape flapped open from his thin body as he stepped closer to Sarah, his right hand spearing to the ceiling and his left pointing downward to the floor. "As it is in the firmaments, so it is in the earth below," he crackled in his thin voice. "Amen."

  "Amen," she echoed.
r />   "God be with you in all that you do in the name of the Colony." He suddenly thrust his hands at her, grabbing her head and pressing his two thumbs into the ghost-white skin of her forehead, so hard that when he finally released her and stepped back, red marks were visible on it.

  He gathered his cloak about himself and swept out of the room, leaving the door open behind him.

  Her head bent, Sarah remained kneeling until she heard a stifled cough from the corridor. Looking up, she saw Joseph, a plate of food cradled in his giant hands.

  "A blessing, huh?"

  Sarah nodded.

  "I don't mean to intrude, but my mother made these for you. Some cakes."

  "You'd better bring them in quickly — I don't think Doctor Doom would approve," she said.

  "No," Joseph agreed, and entered hastily, shutting the door behind him. Then he hovered uneasily, as if he'd forgotten why he'd come there.

  "Why don't you make yourself comfortable?" Sarah offered as she moved across the floor to the bed mat.

  Sitting by her side, he lifted a layer of muslin from the plate to reveal the cakes, their icing an insipid butterscotch color over the gray fungal fibers used for baking in the Colony. He passed the plate to Sarah.

  "Ah, fancies." She smiled to herself, recognizing how similar they were to the shapeless but nonetheless delicious cakes her mother would bake for Sunday teatimes. Sarah helped herself to one, nibbling at it without much interest.

  "They're wonderful. Please do thank your mother — I remember her well."

  "She sends her love," Joseph said. "She's eighty this year and doing—" Without a breath, he interrupted himself, as if he'd been building up to what he really wanted to say. "Sarah, can I ask you something?"

  "Of course, anything," she said, looking at him attentively.

  "When you've done whatever they want you to, will you come home, for good?"

  "Have you any idea why I'm here?" she shot back, studying him carefully.