Tunnels 03, Freefall

Chester as he remained sitting in the launch.
    He watched the plump woman waddling off towards the fuel tanks. "Precious boy?" he muttered to himself, shaking his head. She was getting really scary. Without Will around, she seemed to be focusing all her affection on him, and he didn't like it one bit. She was forever gawping at him with those doe eyes, and it filled him with mounting unease.
    The worst moment had come when they had been trekking up the seam, using the signals from the radio beacons to guide them to the underground harbor. As they'd broken off for a rest, Martha offered to keep watch while Chester got his head down for a few hours. But he'd woken up with a start, certain that someone was stroking his hair. Through the slits of his half-closed eyes he caught Martha making a sudden movement as she retracted her hand. He'd been far too embarrassed and, quite frankly, far too disturbed by the whole incident to confront her about it. And as the thought about it again now his skin crawled.
    He certainly wouldn't have attempted the journey to the fallout shelter on his own, and there was little doubt in his mind that he needed someone else with him for the next leg up the river. But he also wouldn't in a thousand years have chosen Martha as his sole traveling companion, not with the way she was acting now.
    With the launch rocking beneath his feet, he slowly rose up so that he could just see over the pier. He watched Martha's progress along the quay. As soon as she disappeared into one of the buildings, he was on the move. "Go for it," he said, leaping the quay and into the fallout shelter. There he made straight for the Radio Operator's booth and closed the door behind him.
    "The black phone... the black phone... Will said the black phone," Chester gabbled a little hysterically as he snatched the receiver from the rest. He listened. "No tone... but Will said there was no tone," Chester reminded himself, and hurriedly began to dial the number that Elliott had been repeating while she'd had the fever.
    In his haste, he misdialed, putting his finger in the wrong hole. As he panicked, he caught sight of a small poster on the wall. In simple, bold letters, black on a white background, it proclaimed KEEP CALM AND CARRY ON . Some wag had added the words DYING at the very end in a blue pen, but the original message wasn't lost on Chester. He took a deep breath and redialed.
    "Please be working, please be working..."
    He waited a few seconds just in case it took a moment for the call to connect. Hearing a crackle in the earpiece, he began to speak into the receiver, his words coming out in a gush. "Drake, this is Chester, I'm about to start the journey up the river, and I... um... you've got to meet me at the top," he begged in a strained voice. "You have to," he added, and ceased for a moment as he thought he heard a noise outside in the corridor. He lowered his voice to an urgent plea. "I'm counting on you being there, Drake. I can't handle--"
    Now certain someone was moving around in the corridor, Chester quickly replaced the receiver, and dropped himself into one of the chairs. Putting his feet up on the bench, he tipped his head forward onto his chest as if he'd fallen asleep.
    "The door creaked slowly open behind him. "My precious boy, are you in... ah, you are in here," Martha said, a little surprised.
    Chester stretched out his arms and yawned in a rather stagey manner. "Must have dozed off," he lied.
    Martha ran her eyes over the equipment on the bench without any interest. "I've seen to the fuel, and I was wondering if you're ready to eat now," she said, scratching her bottom through her voluminous skirts.
    "Er... no... that's okay, Martha," Chester replied. "I thought I'd check out the supplies myself a bit later on. Really, you just go ahead and have something, and don't worry about me."
    "Right you are, dearie," she said, not hiding her disappointment as she shuffled off.
    Chester remained in the booth, wondering yet again if there was any way he could complete the remainder of the journey on his own. The thought of steaming out of the harbor without Martha in the launch was very tempting, but from what Will had told him it needed two people to take turns on the outboard. Chester swore silently -- no, he couldn't see how he could do it on his own.
    And he also couldn't see who it was going to work when he actually did arrive Topsoil. There would be the ever-present risk of the Styx to contend with, the