Tunnels 01, Tunnels

was prepared for that. He just wanted to get it over with. He began to sweat and tried to loosen the starched collar of his new shirt by running his finger inside it. It seemed to Will as if the room were filling with a chilled and poisonous aspic; he felt suffocated by it.
    His reprieve finally came when, finishing his plate of mush, Mr. Jerome downed a glass of murky water and then abruptly got up. He folded his napkin twice and tossed it carelessly onto the table. He reached the door just as the wretch of a serving man was entering with a copper bowl in his hands. To Will's horror, Mr. Jerome elbowed him brutally aside. Will thought the man was going to fall as he lurched against the wall. He fought to regain his balance as the contents of the bowl tipped out, and apples and oranges rolled around the floor and under the table.
    As if Mr. Jerome's behavior was nothing out of the ordinary, the serving man didn't so much as murmur. Will could see a cut on his lip and blood trickling down his chin as the unfortunate man crawled around the base of his chair, retrieving the fruit.
    Will was flabbergasted, but Cal seemed to be ignoring the incident altogether. Will watched the pathetic man until he left the room and then, deciding there was nothing he could do, turned his attention to the bowl of fresh fruit -- there were bananas, pears, and a couple of figs in addition to the apples and oranges. He helped himself, grateful for something familiar and recognizable after the first two courses.
    At that moment the front door slammed with such a crash that the casement windows shook. Will and Cal listened as Mr. Jerome's footsteps retreated down the front path. It was Will who broke the silence.
    "Doesn't like me much, does he?"
    Cal shook his head as he peeled an orange.
    "Why--" Will stopped short as the servant returned and stood submissively behind Cal's chair.
    "You can go," Cal ordered rudely, not even bothering to look at the man, who slipped quietly out of the room.
    "Who was that?" Will inquired.
    "Oh, that was just Watkins."
    Will didn't speak for a moment, then asked, "What did you say his name was?"
    "Watkins... Terry Watkins."
    Will repeated the name to himself several times. "I'm sure I know that from somewhere." Although he couldn't quite put his finger on it, the name triggered a sense of foreboding in him.
    Cal continued eating, enjoying Will's confusion, and then Will remembered with a start. "They went missing, the whole family!"
    "Yes, they certainly did."
    Taken aback, Will quickly looked across at Cal. "They were snatched!"
    "They had to be, they were a problem. Watkins stumbled onto an air channel, and we couldn't have him telling anybody."
    "But that can't be Mr. Watkins -- he was a big man. I've seen him... his sons went to my school," Will said. "No, that can't be the same person."
    "He and his family were put to work," Cal said coldly.
    "But..." Will stuttered as he juggled the mental image of Mr. Watkins as he used to appear with how he looked now. "...he looks a hundred years old. What happened to him?" Will couldn't help but think of his own predicament, and of Chester's. So was that to be their fate? Forced into slavery for these people?
    "Just as I said, they were all put to work," Cal repeated, lifting a pear to smell its skin. Noticing there was a smear of Mr. Watkins blood on it, he polished it on his shirt before taking a bite.
    Will was regarding his brother now with renewed scrutiny, trying to figure him out. The warmth he'd been beginning to feel toward him had all but evaporated. There was a vindictiveness, a hostility even, evident within the younger boy that Will didn't understand or very much care for. One moment he was saying he wanted to escape from the Colony, and the next he was acting as if he was completely at home here.
    Will's train of thought was broken as Cal glanced over at his father's empty chair and sighed. "This is very hard on Father, but you have to give him time. I suppose you bring back too many memories."
    "About what , exactly?" Will shot back, not feeling an ounce of sympathy for the surly old man. That was where the notion of his newfound family fell apart -- if he never saw Mr. Jerome again, it would be too soon.
    "About Mother, of course. Uncle Tam says she always was a bit of a rebel." Cal sighed again, then fell silent.
    "But... did something bad happen?"
    "We had a brother. He was only a baby. He died from a fever. After that, she ran away." A wistful