Tunnels 01, Tunnels

that!"
    "Look at what?"
    "See for yourself," Will said breathlessly.
    Chester crawled in and saw what had excited his friend so much. Where Will had cleared away the soil there were several courses of a brick wall visible under the sandstone layer, and he'd already loosened some of the first bricks.
    "But what if it's a sewer or railway tunnel or something else like that? Are you sure we should be doing this?" Chester said anxiously. "It might have something to do with the water supply. I don't like this!"
    "Calm down, Chester, there's nothing on the maps around here. We're on the edge of the old town, right?"
    "Right," Chester said hesitantly, unsure of what his friend was getting at.
    "Well, this won't have been anything built in the last hundred to hundred and fifty years -- so it's unlikely to be a train tunnel, even a forgotten one, way out here. I went through all the old maps with Dad. I suppose it might be a sewer, but if you look at the curvature of the brick as it meets the sandstone, then we're probably near the top of it. It could just be the cellar wall of an old house -- or maybe some foundations, but I wonder how it came to be built under the sandstone? Very odd."
    Chester took a couple of steps backward and said nothing, so Will resumed his efforts for a few minutes and then stopped, aware that his friend was still hovering nervously behind him. Will turned and let out a resigned sigh.
    "Look, Chester, if it makes you happy, we'll stop work for today, and I'll check with my dad tonight. See what he thinks."
    "Yeah, I'd rather you did, Will. You know... in case."

    * * * * *

    Dr. Burrows said good-bye to Pineapple Joe and his daughter, promising to find out what he could about the house and its architecture from the local archives. He glanced at his watch and grimaced. He knew it wasn't right to leave the museum closed for so long, but he wanted to look at something before he went back.
    He walked around the square several times, examining the terraced houses on all four sides. The whole square had been built at the same time, and each house was identical. But what interested him was the idea that they might all have the mysterious ducts running through them. He crossed the road and went through the gate into the middle of the square, which had at its center a paved area surrounded by some borders of neglected rosebushes. Here he had a better view of the roofs, and he pointed with his finger as he tried to count exactly how many chimney pots there were on each one.
    "Just doesn't add up." He frowned. "Very peculiar indeed."
    He turned, left the square, and, making his way back to the museum, arrived just in time to close up for the day.

     

6

    In the dead of night, Rebecca watched from an upstairs window as a shadowy figure loitered on the pavement in front of the Burrowses' house. The figure, its features obscured by a hoodie and a baseball cap, glanced furtively both ways along the street, behaving more like a fox than a human. Satisfied that it wasn't being observed, it descended on the garbage bags and, seizing hold of the bulkiest, ripped a hole in it and quickly began to rummage through the contents with both hands.
    "Do you really think I'm that stupid?" Rebecca whispered, her breath clouding the glass of her bedroom window. She wasn't the slightest bit concerned. Following warnings about identity theft in the Highfield area, she had been fastidiously destroying any official letters, credit card bills, or bank statements -- in fact, anything containing the family's personal details.
    In his haste to find something, the man was tossing out trash from the sack. Empty cans, food packaging, and a series of bottles were being strewn across the front lawn. He snatched out a handful of papers and held them close to his face, rotating them in his fist as he scrutinized them under the dim streetlight.
    "Go on," she challenged the scavenger. "Do your worst!"
    Wiping the grease and old coffee grounds off one piece of paper with his hand, he twisted around so he could see it more clearly under the streetlight.
    Rebecca watched as he feverishly read the letter, then grimaced as he realized it was worthless. He tensed his arm in a gesture of disgust and threw it down.
    Rebecca had had enough. She'd been leaning on the windowsill but now she stood up, throwing back the curtains.
    The man caught the movement and flicked up his eyes. He saw her and froze, then, twisting around to check both ends of the