Tunnels 04, Closer

staring absently at the other side of the lagoon where the old barge had drifted free, when he noticed what was attracting Elliott's attention. He slapped himself on the forehead. "The launch! What an idiot! Why I didn't think of it before?" he burst out, and raced back up the pier. Once on the quayside, he hurried the short distance to the generator building.
    "Yes, it's gone! Chester's taken the launch with the outboard that Dad and I left here," he said, peering down the side of the building.
    "So there's no question he went Topsoil. But where does that leave us?" Elliott asked, as she caught up with Will.
    "I can probably get another outboard motor to work and there's gallons of fuel in the tanks down here, but the problem is..." Will said, as he scratched his chin. "The problem is the launch." He threw a glance at the low building where the vessels were kept. "There aren't any."
    "No boats," Elliott said.
    "Well, there are, but the fiberglass is really ropey -- I know because I had a good look at all of them. I double-checked after Dad picked one out. If I'd left it to him, I might not be here today."
    "Well, you are, and it seems as though we're here for keeps, doesn't it? We're marooned," Elliott said glumly, as she set off down the quayside.
    Is that such a bad thing? Will thought to himself before he knew it. Her body language wasn't lost on him as she walked despondently away, no longer taking much interest in her surroundings. Maybe she hates being here with me. Maybe all she really wants is to be with Chester? Will scrunched his eyes shut. And maybe I'm just being a total dipstick. You shouldn't care so much -- why do you care so much? he posed to himself, with a small shrug.
    "But I do care very much," he answered himself earnestly, speaking out loud as he flicked his eyes open again.
    Elliott seemed to slow her step at that instant, and Will wondered if she'd overheard him. He hoped not -- she was far enough down the quay that the sound of the underground river at the very end should have drowned out his voice. At least, he hoped it had.
    Blushing, he made an about turn and jogged back to the fallout shelter, then entered it, going straight to the radio operator's booth.
    "The black one, not the red one," he said, remembering his instructions as he told Chester which of the wall-mounted telephones had, by some miracle, still been working. Will thought of his friend and the last time he'd seen him. It had been just before Will had followed after Dr. Burrows with a leap into Smoking Jean, a leap into the unknown.
    It was only months ago, but it seemed considerably longer. So much had happened since then. Will was now without a father -- he'd lost yet another person central to his life. And, quite possibly, he'd also lost his mother. So many had died. At this rate, he thought to himself, he'd be the only one left, completely alone -- a friendless, embittered orphan, always on the run from the Styx. That was if he himself survived.
    As he slumped into one of the canvas-backed chairs, Will recalled how happy he'd been then, despite all the uncertainty surrounding his future. And despite the fact that Dr. Burrows had been prepared to sacrifice everything, including his relationship with his wife and son, to his tenacious and single-minded pursuit of knowledge, there had been a caring and considerate side to him. Maybe it was hidden deep in Dr. Burrows for much of the time -- like one of his prized relics buried in the earth -- but nevertheless Will had been treated to occasional glimpses of it.
    "Dad. Dear old Dad," Will muttered sadly, as he powered up the ancient radio on the bench before him, watching as the valves on the top began to glow. He didn't know if the radio even needed to be switched on for the telephone to work, although he felt superstitious about it, telling himself it couldn't do any harm. After a minute, when the valves were emitting a pink-orange light, he rose from the chair and reached across for the black telephone. He knew Drake's emergency number without even thinking -- after Elliott's fever when she'd repeated it over and over again, it was one number that would forever be indelibly etched on his memory.
    Although he had no idea whether Drake was still alive, or if anyone else might pick up the messages, Will dialed and left several for him on the server. He tried to keep them succinct, telling Drake that he and Elliott had reached the shelter, and that they had no means of making