Tunnels 03, Freefall

that's the way to the fallout shelter."
    He went over to the tall boulder with the carving. "Let's mark the spot, shall we?" Will said, activating a new radio beacon and then sliding it into a crack in the boulder. "And one for each of you," he added, doling out the other three beacons to Chester, Elliott and Martha. He did this so quickly, they didn't have time to refuse him.
    "Why do I need this?" Elliott demanded, holding her beacon up.
    "Will?" Chester said, close to losing his patience.
    "Oh, yes, nearly forgot -- you'll need this, too," Will added, thrusting a tracker into Chester's hand. "Follow the breadcrumbs and you'll get yourself home."
    "Don't be stupid. I'm not going anywhere without you," Chester growled, now very angry. As he tried unsuccessfully to give the device back to Will, it picked up the signal from the tall boulder and gave a rash of loud clicks. "I don't want this!"
    But Will seemed to be in a world of his own and wasn't listening to a word that was being said to him. "My guess would be that the twins made it to the sub, and they're down there in Smoking Jean somewhere." He chuckled to himself. "Isn't it funny? The Styx brainwashed me with their Dark Light so I'd jump and kill myself, but Drake helped me to stop it. And now I'm over it, that's exactly what--"
    Chester noticed that there was a glint in his friend's eye, and that meant trouble. "So help me, Will, if you..." he said, interrupting him, but he never completed the sentence.
    Will turned the second tracker on and following in his father's footsteps, he broke into a run towards the void.
    He flung himself from the edge.
    "Nooooooo! You bloody maniac!" Chester screamed, but Will never heard him, his ears filled with the sound of rushing air.

    * * * * *

    In his time at the station, the Second Officer had seen and heard things a normal person would find it difficult to deal with. It was as if he'd become numb, as if he'd erected a barrier around himself so that he could filter out the horror.
    Now, as he waited in the corridor outside the closed door, that barrier didn't seem to be working. The screams were chilling -- the sound of a human soul being torn in half. And he couldn't understand how they seemed to be sustained for so long, hardly pausing for breath to be drawn.
    Then, all of a sudden, a silence descended, which was even more chilling than the screaming.
    He heard the footsteps of the First Officer thudding on the damp flagstones as he approached. But the man had only come halfway down the corridor when he stopped and gave the closed door a quick glance. He grimaced, unhappy that the interrogation was taking so long, then slowly turned on his boot heels and began to walk away again, most likely to return to the front desk. In case any more Styx decided to turn up at the station.
    Thankful to be alone, the Second Officer wiped the sweat from his brow. For an instant his face contorted, as if he was about to weep. He didn't know why he should be feeling like this, but perhaps he'd had about all he could take of the misery and suffering that went on in this place. He regained his composure, and just in time too as he caught the low rumble of voices and the door swung open.
    The old Styx strode imperiously out, accompanied by his young assistant.
    "All done?" the Second Officer said.
    The old Styx looked up at him, surprised by his interest.
    "We got what we needed," he replied curtly. "We always do."
    "Er... she... is she... I mean... is she still... ?" the Second Officer asked.
    Arching his brows, the old Styx broke into his incoherent stream. "If you're asking if the Burrows woman is still alive, her heart appears to be beating and somehow she's breathing," he said, then moved to the side of the doorway. "See for yourself."
    The Second Officer stepped into the light flooding from the room. He could see the back of the chair in which Mrs. Burrows was still strapped. One of the Styx had unfastened the restraint around her head and it was slumped forward, and unmoving. Beyond her he saw three Styx, who were packing up a whole bank of Dark Lights. There must have been six or seven of these lights on the table, but at that moment the Second Officer was so overwrought he couldn't even count them.
    "She was a tough nut to crack," the young assistant commented. This was said with the detached air of a doctor discussing a patient's case notes. "One of the toughest yet."
    "Yes," the old Styx concurred. "Unusually resilient." He swept