Tunnels 02, Deeper

wouldn't have let this go," she said tensely, pacing up and down behind Cal like a lioness about to strike. Cal remained blissfully unaware of her silent fury, his head swaying gently as he slept on.
    "What do you mean?" Chester asked, trying to read the look in her eyes.
    "He would've dumped him here. Upped camp and let him fend for himself," she said.
    "That's way harsh -- how long do you think Cal would last on his own?" Chester objected. "It would be like passing a death sentence on him!"
    "Too bad."
    "You can't do that to him," Chester spluttered. "You have to cut him some slack. The poor kid's absolutely knackered. We all are."
    But she was deadly serious.
    "Don't you get it? By falling asleep, he might have dragged us all down with him," she said as she threw a glance over the water. "We don't know what they're going to throw at us next... If it's Limiters, I probably won't even see them coming. But it could be civilians -- they're often sent in as the vanguard because they're a dime a dozen -- pure cannon fodder, collateral. That's how the Styx operate sometimes... the soldiers follow in later on to mop up."
    "Yes, but--" Chester said.
    "No, you listen. You make one mistake and you'll end up facedown in that," she said frostily, thumbing at the sea. She deliberated for a moment, then slung her rifle over her shoulder, stepped behind Cal, and slapped him hard on the back of the head.
    "ARGHHHHH!" he cried, smacked wide awake. He leaped up, his arms waving wildly. Then he realized that it had been Elliott and glared at her.
    "S'pose this is your idea of a joke?" he said, huffing resentfully. "Well, I don't think it's funny..."
    At the sight of her stony face, his protestations shriveled on his lips.
    "You do not fall asleep on watch!" she barked menacingly.
    "No," he said, smoothing down his shirt and looking thoroughly abashed.
    "Thought I heard voices," Will said drowsily, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles as he sat up. "What's going on?"
    "Nothing, just getting dinner ready," Elliott told him. Unseen by Will, she gave Cal a last lingering stare as she swiped her hand across her throat in a cutting motion. He nodded glumly.

    * * * * *

    Elliott dug a hollow in the sand, then dispatched Chester and Cal to collect some brush, which she placed around its edge. Once everything was to her satisfaction, she lit a small fire deep in the pit. As it grew, she further adjusted the brush as a precaution against any stray light leaking out.
    While she was busy tending the flames, Will staggered over to a series of rock pools by the sea's edge. He swung up the lens from over his eye and doused his face with water. Then he seemed to take forever to clean his hands, alternately scrubbing them with wet sand and rinsing them, repeating the process over and over again in a slow, methodical way.
    "Do you think I should check on him? He's acting a bit strange," Chester asked Elliott as he watched his friend's compulsive behavior. "What's wrong with his hands?"
    "Aftereffects," she said simply, leaving Chester and Cal none the wiser.
    Both boys were actually relieved that the opportunity to talk to Will hadn't presented itself. The act of killing had set him apart, putting him in a place they couldn't begin to understand.
    So how should they treat him? The question was at the forefront of both their minds. They certainly couldn't pat him on the back and congratulate him. Should they try to commiserate with him over Drake's death, to console him, when he'd been the cause? The reality was that they were more than a little in awe of Will. How did he feel about what he'd done? Not only did he have blood on his hands from shooting and killing another human being, it was Drake... one of their own... their guardian and friend... his friend.
    As Chester gave Elliott a considered look, he wondered again how she was dealing with it. After her brief moment of vulnerability on the beach, she seemed to have reverted to her old self and to be throwing herself wholeheartedly into looking after them. Chester's train of thought was broken as Elliott hoisted the night crab out of the sack and dropped it onto the sand. It was just as lively as when she'd caught it, and she had to place her foot on it to stop it from escaping.
    Chester saw that Will was coming toward them. His movements were still sluggish, as if he wasn't yet fully awake. Although dripping with water, he hadn't washed his face very successfully: Large sooty patches persisted