Tunnels 02, Deeper

thin voice. "Amen."
    "Amen," she echoed.
    "God be with you in all that you do in the name of the Colony." He suddenly thrust his hands at her, grabbing her head and pressing his two thumbs into the ghost-white skin of her forehead, so hard that when he finally released her and stepped back, red marks were visible on it.
    He gathered his cloak about himself and swept out of the room, leaving the door open behind him.
    Her head bent, Sarah remained kneeling until she heard a stifled cough from the corridor. Looking up, she saw Joseph, a plate of food cradled in his giant hands.
    "A blessing, huh?"
    Sarah nodded.
    "I don't mean to intrude, but my mother made these for you. Some cakes."
    "You'd better bring them in quickly -- I don't think Doctor Doom would approve," she said.
    "No," Joseph agreed, and entered hastily, shutting the door behind him. Then he hovered uneasily, as if he'd forgotten why he'd come there.
    "Why don't you make yourself comfortable?" Sarah offered as she moved across the floor to the bed mat.
    Sitting by her side, he lifted a layer of muslin from the plate to reveal the cakes, their icing an insipid butterscotch color over the gray fungal fibers used for baking in the Colony. He passed the plate to Sarah.
    "Ah, fancies ." She smiled to herself, recognizing how similar they were to the shapeless but nonetheless delicious cakes her mother would bake for Sunday teatimes. Sarah helped herself to one, nibbling at it without much interest.
    "They're wonderful. Please do thank your mother -- I remember her well."
    "She sends her love," Joseph said. "She's eighty this year and doing--" Without a breath, he interrupted himself, as if he'd been building up to what he really wanted to say. "Sarah, can I ask you something?"
    "Of course, anything," she said, looking at him attentively.
    "When you've done whatever they want you to, will you come home, for good?"
    "Have you any idea why I'm here?" she shot back, studying him carefully.
    He rubbed his chin as if to buy time before giving an answer. "It's not my place to know such things... but I'd wager it has to do with what's going on Topsoil..."
    "No, I'm headed the other way," she said, tipping her head to indicate the Deeps.
    "So you're not involved with the operation in London?" Joseph blurted out, then clamped his mouth shut, clearing regretting that he'd said it. "I don't want to get into disfavor with--" he tried to add hastily before Sarah cut him short.
    "No, I'm not part of that. And don't worry, anything you say is safe with me."
    "It's not good around here at the moment," Joseph said in a low voice. "People have been disappearing."
    As this was nothing particularly new in the Colony, Sarah didn't make any comment, and Joseph also remained silent, as if he was still embarrassed by his indiscretion.
    "So, are you coming back?" he asked finally. "After it's done?"
    "Yes, the White Necks say I'll be allowed to stay in the Colony when I've seen something through for them." She pushed a crumb from the corner of her mouth, glanced wistfully at the door, and sighed. "Even if you do manage to escape them -- to get Topsoil -- part of you can never leave. They trap you with everything you hold dear, everything you love, your family... I found that out," she said, her voice thickening with remorse, "far too late."
    Joseph heaved himself to his feet, taking the plate from her. "It's never too late," he mumbled as his hulking form made toward the door.

    * * * * *

    In the ensuing days, Sarah was ordered to rest and build up her strength. Finally, just when she thought she would go stir-crazy from the inactivity, she was summoned to another room by someone other than Joseph. He was dressed almost identically but was smaller and older, his scalp completely bald and his movements excruciatingly slow as he led the way down the corridor.
    He peered back at Sarah, arching his fluffy white eyebrows apologetically. "Me joints," he explained. "The damp's got into them."
    "Happens to the best of us," she replied.
    He showed her into a sizable room where there was a long table in the center and a series of low cupboards around all the walls. The old man shuffled off without a word, leaving her wondering why she had been brought there. There were two high-backed chairs on opposite sides of the table, and she went over to the nearest of them and stood behind it. Looking around the room, her eyes lingered on a small shrine in the corner where a beaten metal cross about a