Tunnels 02, Deeper

her gut she knew that what she sought was in that boat bobbing on the waves.
    "Looks like we're back in business, my old friend," she said to Bartleby, who was flicking his bony tail as if he already knew what they were going to do. Sarah took a last glance at the burning island, and her lips curled into a malicious smile. "And I suppose Rebecca will need to draft some new Limiters."

     

44

    "Get it together," Elliott urged from the helm as Will and Chester pulled on the oars, still not in sync with each other.
    "Where exactly are we going?" Cal called out to her. "You said you would take us somewhere safe."
    There was a splash as Will misjudged his stroke, his blade skipping across the water. Elliott gave no response, so Cal tried again.
    "We want to know where you're taking us. We have a right to know," he insisted. He sounded peeved; Will knew that his leg must be bothering him.
    Elliott turned from her rifle. "We're going to lose ourselves in the Wetlands. If we make it that far." She paused for several uneven oar strokes, then spoke again. "The White Necks won't be able to track us there."
    "Why?" Will asked, wheezing from the exertion of rowing.
    "Because it's like... like one big, never-ending swamp..." She sounded uneasy, as if she lacked conviction in what she was saying, and this didn't give the boys much confidence, since they hung on her every word. "No one in their right mind ever goes into those parts," she continued. "We can lie low until the Styx give us up for lost."
    "These Wetlands, are they deeper? Below where we are now?" Cal asked, before Will had the breath to ask.
    Elliott shook her head. "No, it's one of the outlying areas of the Great Plain that we call the Wastes. Some of the fringes are just too dangerous because of hot spots... Drake never let us spend more that a few days there. It'll suit us for a while, then we'll move on to some other places in the Wastes. They're a lot easier to survive in."
    The boys remained silent after that, each left alone with his thoughts. Her words rang in their heads -- the Wastes didn't sound very promising, but none of them felt terribly inclined to ask any more questions.
    "We're in the pull of currents from a band of whirlpools a couple of miles east," Elliott eventually said. She jabbed a finger over their heads to the starboard side. "And if you don't want to see them up close, I suggest you both put your backs into keeping us on course."
    "Aye-aye, Captain," Will grumbled, his earlier enthusiasm for the boat journey all but gone.
    Several hours later, after a marathon rowing session, Elliott told them to stop again. Will and Chester welcomed the rest, their arms so tired that they trembled when they raised their canteens for a drink. Elliott instructed Cal to keep watch with the loose rifle scope and Will to put on his headset.
    Will flipped the lens down over his eye and turned it on. The view sizzled with orange snow until it settled into a cohesive image, and he saw that they weren't far off the coast. The boat was drifting toward what Will took to be a headland.
    As they drifted farther in, silken fingers reached over the surface of the water. A wispy mist crept toward them, the hazy layer thickening to such an extent that it began to spill in over the sides of the boat. The lantern at Chester's feet sent a diffuse illumination through the mist, conferring on it a milky translucence and making their faces glow eerily. Before long they couldn't see anything below their waists. It was a strange sensation to sit there, with the unbroken blanket all around them, as they cut a path through it in the now invisible boat. The fog seemed to absorb all sound, damping even the lapping of the waves.
    The air temperature grew warmer as they went, and although none of them said a word, the boys felt as if there was a physical pressure forcing itself down on each of them. Whether it was the gloominess of the mistscape or some other phenomenon, they were all experiencing identical sensations of melancholia and desolation.
    They drifted for another twenty minutes. They seemed to be entering a cove or bay. The forlorn silence was broken as the keel of the boat bumped against rocks and ran aground. It was odd. It felt as though the dark spell had been broken, as though they had all woken from an uneasy dream.
    Elliott wasted no time in jumping out of the boat. They heard the splashes as she landed, but there was no indication of how deep the water was because the