Tunnels 03, Freefall

he opened his eyes again, the glow from the garden seemed to be brighter than ever, bathing the cavern in a glorious array of multi-colored radiance. It called to mind the summer evenings when the fair had come to Highfield Common -- seen from afar, the stray light in the sky above it was not dissimilar to the phantasmagoria he was witnessing now.
    As his eyes roved over the beds on either side of the path, he could have sworn that some of them were growing in intensity while others were becoming more muted, as if handing over the baton from one to another. The changes were enough to alter the light on the porch, chasing his shadow around the wood decking behind him.
    He moved himself down to the bottom step and raised his hand before him so he could admire the colorful hues falling on it, which dissolved from yellow to orange and then to a palette of reds and blues, all in constant rotation. He thought of the fair again. It didn't take very much to imagine the melee of organ music and the old rock 'n' roll songs, and the hoots of laughter and calls of the excited children rolling across the grassy fields.
    "Homesick?" said a deep voice.
    Will squinted, making out someone sitting a few steps behind him.
    It was a large man, and his profile was familiar.
    "Uncle Tam!" Will said aloud, wondering why he wasn't more surprised or more frightened by what he was seeing. "But you're... er... dead!"
    "Ah, that'll explain why I've been feeling a bit off-color recently," Tam replied wryly.
    "Is this a dream? Am I dreaming?" Will asked him.
    "Quite possibly," Tam answered, sliding his hand up his face and then to the top of his head, where he began to scratch vigorously. "Reckon I've got those lice again," he chuckled. "Little bleeders."
    "I am dreaming," Will decided, and twisted himself around on the step so he was directly facing the apparition.
    "Tell me what I should be doing, Uncle Tam. You have to tell me."
    "You've got yourself in a pickle, my boy, haven't you?" Tam said.
    Will frowned, remembering there was something vitally important he had to say to his uncle. "Cal... I'm so sorry about Cal... there was--"
    "Nothing you could do," Tam interrupted as he took out his pipe and began to fill the bowl with tobacco. "I know that, Will, I know that. You only just made it out by the skin of your teeth yourself."
    "But what can I do about Elliott?" Will asked the man as he scraped a match against his thumbnail and it burst into flame, lighting his face for an instant. "She's really sick and I feel so helpless. What should I do?"
    "I wish I could be of assistance, Will, but I don't know this place." Tam took a moment to survey the cavern as he chewed on the stem of his pipe. "I can't give you any maps to show you the way this time. Just choose a course of action -- you'll know when it's right -- and stick to it."
    "Please, Tam," Will begged the shadowy outline. "I need more than that."
    Tam puffed out a hazy cloud of smoke which seemed to hang in the air for ever, imbued with the constant cycle of different colors the plants were emitting. "Listen to your heart," he said, as the cloud finally dispersed.
    "What does that mean?" Will demanded, profoundly disappointed with the response. "That doesn't help me at all!"
    Tam merely exhaled an even bigger cloud of smoke, which completely enveloped him.
    "What are you doing out here?" Martha asked.
    "Huh?" Will gasped, jerking his head round.
    "I heard voices," she said, looking out over the garden from the top of the porch.
    "I couldn't sleep so I checked on Elliott, then came out here for some fresh air," Will explained.
    "You didn't check on Elliott. I was with her -- I would have seen you come in. Are you all right, Will?" she asked, concerned.
    Will didn't answer, turning back to where Tam had been sitting. He was surprised to see Bartleby there instead, watching him alertly. "Must have dozed off," he mumbled, getting up and passing Martha as he went inside the shack, shaking his head.

    * * * * *

    When Will took his turn with Elliott later that day she seemed to be even more restless than usual, her head tossing from side to side as she tensed all her limbs. Every so often her eyes flickered open for a few seconds at a time. It frightened Will -- he had no idea what it meant, or what he should be doing. As he tried to soothe her by talking to her, her eyes seemed to look at him, but he knew she wasn't seeing him -- they were lifeless and red-rimmed, and not like her eyes at