Tunnels 02, Deeper

that," she threatened.
    Mrs. Burrows laughed unpleasantly. "Oh, don't I? What I really want is for you to get out--" she said.
    "Oh, I'm going all right," Sarah snarled, cutting her short.
    "--and never set foot in here again. Ever!"
    "Don't worry... I've seen all I need to," Sarah replied caustically, wrenching the door fully open so that it crashed back against the wall with the bizarre murals and rattled the window casements. She took a step, but hesitated in the doorway, realizing she hadn't said all she wanted to, now that the gloves were off. And, in the heat of the moment, she was finally able to admit to herself what she had been trying so hard to suppress -- that Joe Waites's message could be true.
    "Tell me what you did to Seth--"
    "Seth?" Mrs. Burrows interrupted sharply.
    "Call him what you want, Seth or Will -- it doesn't matter. You made him into something twisted, something evil!" she screamed in Mrs. Burrows's face. "Into a filthy murderer!"
    "A murderer?" Mrs. Burrows asked, looking a great deal less certain of herself. "What on earth are you saying?"
    "My brother's dead! Will killed him!" Sarah howled, tears filling her eyes. It was as if this meeting with Mrs. Burrows ha provided her with a piece of a jigsaw puzzle, which, once completed, would show the vilest scene imaginable. And Sarah's outburst carried with it such complete conviction, such rawness of emotion...
    Mrs. Burrows began to shake -- for the first time she was completely thrown off her stride. Why was this woman accusing Will of murder? And what was this about him being called Seth? It didn't make sense. Her face was a picture of confusion as she took her hand away from the panic button and held it supplicatingly toward Sarah.
    "Will... murdered... your brother? What...?" Mrs. Burrows spluttered.
    But Sarah merely gave the woman a final withering glance and flew from the room. She was bolting down the corridor as two heavyset orderlies thundered past her in the opposite direction.
    They were heading toward the source of the high-pitched wailing, but skidded to a halt when they saw Sarah in flight, uncertain whether they should intercept her instead.
    Sarah didn't give them a chance to make up their minds. She hared around a corner in the corridor, her shoes slipping and squealing as they fought for purchase on the overwaxed linoleum. She wasn't going to stop for anyone or anything. The orderlies shrugged at each other and continued toward their original destination.
    Sarah pulled open the glass door to the foyer. As she entered, she spotted a security camera on the wall -- trained directly on her. Curses! She tucked her head down, knowing it was too late. There was nothing she could do about it now.
    The receptionist behind the desk was the same one who had signed Sarah in. She was on the telephone but immediately dropped it as she called out.
    "Are you all right? Miss O'Leary, what's wrong?"
    With the receptionist still shouting after her to stop, Sarah sprinted across the parking lot and then down the driveway to the road. She didn't let up until she was on the main street. A bus drew up and she quickly boarded it. She had to get clear of the area in case the police had been called.
    Sitting well away from the other passengers in the rear of the vehicle, Sarah was finding it difficult to get her breathing under control. She was in a seethe of thoughts and emotions. Never, in all her years of being Topsoil, had she revealed so much of herself to anyone, let alone to Mrs. Burrows , of all people! She should have kept her cool. It had gone so horribly wrong. What had she been thinking?
    The whole incident made her heart thump in her ears as she replayed it in her mind. She was at once infuriated with herself for her lack of self-control and deeply upset at the exchange with the ridiculous, ineffectual woman who had been such a large part of her son's life... who had had the privilege of watching him grow up... and who had to take responsibility for turning him into what he'd become. She'd said things to Mrs. Burrows that before she hadn't allowed herself to believe that Will could indeed be a traitor, a turncoat, and a killer.

    * * * * *

    Once back in Highfield, she couldn't stop herself from breaking into a trot for the last stretch to the waste ground. She'd regained a measure of composure by the time she pulled aside the plywood trapdoor and jumped down into the entrance pit, with the usual comforting crunch of little bones to