Tunnels 03, Freefall

again."
    "Yes, I noticed you were looking a bit green round the gills. I've got it too, just like when I came down the Pore the first tome. Nothing to be concerned about -- it's because your gut relies on normal gravitational pull to assist it with peristalsis, the mechanism by which the muscles in your duodenum ripple and move your chewed-up food down your--"
    "Dad, please, I said I feel sick!" Will moaned, holding a hand to his mouth.
    As they went into the narrow crevasse, Will planted the first of Drakes radio beacons, lodging it in a crevice high up in the wall.
    "Breadcrumb number one," he said.

    * * * * *

    It was late morning and the light streamed into the empty room. Mrs. Burrows was in the middle of her yoga routine when she heard Drake calling her from downstairs. She'd been missing her almost daily visits to the gym and so this was the best she could do, exercising on the floor of one of the bedrooms in the hotel that Drake was using as a safe house for the time being. Grabbing her towel and bottle of water, she went out into the corridor and hurried down the flight of stairs where Drake and Leatherman were waiting. The hotel lobby was still intact with a reception desk and a few tables and chairs arranged around the place. Drake and Leatherman were standing just inside the main doorway.
    "Hi guys," Mrs. Burrows greeted them. "What's up?"
    "Baldy Wilbrahams just left his hairpiece on the door knocker," Leatherman said with a straight face.
    "He didn't!" Mrs. Burrows said disbelievingly, then burst into a raucous laugh, Drake and Leatherman joining in with her.
    Drake held out a mobile phone to her. "Then it's all systems go. You need to call him with the time and place," he said quietly.
    Mrs. Burrows stopped laughing as she took the phone.

    * * * * *

    As Martha pounded on the door to the barricade of the WolfCaves, Chester stirred on the soft patch of ground where he'd been snoozing. He groaned and heaved himself to his feet, then rubbed his back and groaned again. Wiping the side of his face that had been resting in the dirt and scooping his long hair back, he grumbled, "I'm a caveman" to himself as he went to the entrance. Here he slid out the crossbar from behind the door so Martha could come in. The first thing he spotted was Bartleby lolloping around behind her.
    "Keep that bloody moggy away from me," he said in a bad-tempered voice.
    Then he noticed Martha was grinning from ear to ear.
    "We hit the jackpot," she announced gaily.
    He saw what was on the ground beside her and took a step back.
    "Urhhhhh!"
    Steam rose from a dark, matted fleece. It was hard to make out precisely what it was -- it looked rather like someone had discarded an old furry rug there, until he caught sight of the thick snout protruding from it.
    "That's a wolf?"
    "Sure is," Martha said. "Caught it in one of my snares. A real brute -- took three shots in the back of the head to kill it."
    "Three shots," Chester repeated, not really knowing what he was saying as Martha stooped to take hold of a hind leg and began to drag the dead wolf past him.
    Chester watched her, nodding his head. "I am a caveman," he sighed in quiet acquiescence, and was about to shut and secure the door again when he remembered Bartleby was still outside. The cat's big plate-like eyes were fixed nervously on Chester -- the animal knew he wasn't flavor of the month.
    With a resentful grunt, Chester waved the cat inside. Bartleby got the message, skulking warily past him, then bounding off into the caves after Martha.
    Chester too followed after Martha, and found that she wasn't where he expected her to be, in the area with the soft dirt floor that they usually occupied. When he finally caught up with her further inside the complex, she was already preparing the carcass and Elliott was watching her raptly.
    Martha cut one of the wolf's eyeballs from its socket, made a small incision in it, then put it in her mouth. She squeezed it hard, the fluid from the eyeball dribbling down her whiskery chin as she drank it.
    "Jesus," Chester said.
    Martha then proceeded to hack the second eyeball out. She also gave it a jab with her knife, but this time passed it to Elliott.
    "Good source of fluid," Martha advised Elliott as the girl drank hers.
    "Ohhh!" Chester moaned, sitting down rather suddenly.
    "That's good," Elliott said, then glanced at Chester. "you must try some next time."
    Chester made a gurgling sound, at which Elliott started laughing. It took him a