Tunnels 03, Freefall

the fact that the cells would be buried under thousands of tons of concrete and rock.
    He set the fuses and ran for it. He was well away from the area when the charges went off, but it was still enough to suck the breath from his lungs and knock him off his feet. He didn't care -- he was just relieved that he'd achieved his objective. Assuming Sarah Jerome had taken care of the only other source of Dominion when, as her dying act, she'd swept the Rebecca twins over with her into the Pore, then the threat was now neutralized. Neutralized, that was, until the Styx could locate further lethal viral strains in the EternalCity, or develop an alternative in their underground laboratories.

    * * * * *

    Drake crossed the Plain on foot, taking just under two days to reach the Miners' Station, where he stowed away in one of the empty trucks halfway down the train. He didn't have long to wait before it left -- a few soldiers from the Division boarded the guard's car and it heaved out of the station. He was ready with the Limiter rifle if any of them decided to carry out a snap inspection of the rest of the train, but they never came. That was unusually sloppy of them.
    And when the train drew into the Colony station, Drake couldn't believe his luck. As he clambered out of the mammoth truck and dropped by the trackside, he was stunned that the portal was completely unattended. So it was child's play to get into the streets of the Colony, but once there he found that a thick black smoke permeated the air. As he entered the huge expanse of the South Cavern, he was met by a strange sight. Broad columns of smoke rose up right in the middle of it, glowing with a fiery redness which illuminated the rock canopy high above.
    "The Rookeries," Drake said to himself. It was clear that something earth-shattering was taking place, and he had to see it for himself. He stole closer to the area until he was at the outskirts. Here he saw legions of soldiers from the Styx Division brandishing burning torches. He saw figures frantically trying to fight their way out of the Rookeries and through the solid cordon of soldiers, and the screams as they were slaughtered. Again and again the desperate occupants of the Rookeries, their clothes burning and their faces blackened with smoke, attempted to get through. But each time one broke from an alleyway, they were brutally cut down by the soldiers, who were wielding their scythes like the farmers of old harvesting corn.
    Other Styx in their long black coats and white collars strode imperiously behind the lines of soldiers, shouting orders. The systematic destruction of the Rookeries was in progress -- for centuries the Styx had allowed the rebels and malcontents of the Colony's population to persist in their self-contained ghetto, but now the decision had evidently been taken to eradicate this 'underbelly'. Drake watched as a four-story building collapsed in on itself, and in the avalanche of old masonry he glimpsed human forms... and, worst of all, children... their small limbs waving helplessly as they were crushed by the cascades of limestone blocks.
    There, hidden in the shadows, this toughest of men who had survived years of hardship, both at the hands of the Styx and in the Deeps, broke down and wept. The inhumanity of what he was witnessing was almost too much for him to bear. And there was absolutely nothing he could do, just one man against so many Styx, to stop the atrocity.

    * * * * *

    With the radio blaring out a Turkish station and the air conditioning filling the interior with scorching heat, the minicab rocketed through the streets. As if the driver knew the synchronization of every set of traffic lights, time and time again he managed to squeeze through on the amber or just as they'd turned red. And he didn't seem to notice the numerous speed bumps in the roads, with the result that Mrs. Burrows was bounced in her seat as surely as if she was on a runaway camel.
    A heavy rain was falling but she wound the window all the way down, and leant her head against the door pillar so that it caught the rushing air. As she relished the breeze and the raindrops on her face, she let her unfocused gaze skin over the shiny-wet pavement. She lost herself in the random lines and patches of light reflected in them from the shop fronts, not really thinking about anything in particular, but feeling a sense of liberation after her time in Humphrey House.
    She looked up, seeing where they were with some