Tunnels 04, Closer

side of the door. No question then that she was there, most likely sitting on the floor with her legs splayed out as she always did. He could picture her, her crossbow resting in her lap as she fidgeted with her large knife, like some mad aunt from an old horror movie. But this was no movie, and it was so unfair. He just wanted to go home. All his feelings welled up inside him again until he could stand it no longer, and he began to shout at the top of his voice. Still shouting, he rolled over so that he could bang his head against the door, thumping it with such force he was hurting himself.
    "HEY, LOONEY TUNES, I KNOW YOU'RE THERE! BLOODY LET ME OUT!"
    Suddenly, with a click, the door swung open, and he was staring at a pair of stocky ankles. He looked up -- there she stood, a rather overweight lady with flame-red frizzy hair, and swathed in the usual thick layers of filthy clothing.
    "Now, now, my darlin', don't go getting yourself all worked up," she said, the muscles around her eye going wild in their very own St. Vitus's Dance.
    But Chester was so angry he didn't care about the consequences any more. As she squatted down beside him, he began to shout again and tried to head-butt her knee.
    I WANT TO SEE MY MUM AND DAD," he shrieked. 'LET ME GO HOME! THIS IS JUST SO WRONG!"
    "Silly boy. No need for all that ballyhoo -- I'm your family now," she said calmly, and grabbed his head, pushing it down against the floor inside the cupboard. "Martha's the one who cares for you now, not foul Topsoilers."
    With that, she whipped out a yellow duster and shoved it against his mouth.
    At first he thought she was trying to smother him, and he struggled with even more urgency. But there wasn't much he could do -- his bound limbs and the restrictive space inside the cupboard hindered him. And she was deceptively strong.
    "OO 'ITCH!" he yelled through the cloth, jerking his head in an attempt to shake her off.
    Without any warning she slapped him viciously across the side of the face. He screamed, not from the pain, but from the shock of what she'd done. He felt so vulnerable.
    "Silly, silly boy," she said breathlessly, still holding the duster over his mouth to muffle him. "There's nobody around to hear you, and you mustn't get yourself all in a tizzy like this." She sounded as though she was disciplining a badly behaving puppy.
    The fight had gone out of Chester, and he stopped struggling and trying to shout. In the ensuing calm she took away the duster. He watched her with mounting horror as she took drew out her knife and waggled it in front of him. "And if you insist on using such language, I'll be forced to cut out your tongue. Do you really want me to do that?"
    Chester clamped his mouth tight shut and shook his head, making a frantic "Mmmm" noise to show he would obey her. For an instant she narrowed her eyes and her expression went blank, as if she was waiting for instructions from someone. Except there was no one there but the two of them. Then she became animated again and spoke. "If you know what's good for you, you'll just do what old Martha tells you."
    Rigid with fright, he continued to stare up at her, tears running down his cheeks. She brushed the hair from his forehead and then stroked the side of his face with her short, grubby fingers. He didn't dare do anything to resist her touch.
    Inclining her head toward him, she smiled as if nothing had happened, but that eye was twitching as though it was going to leap clean out of its socket.
    "Martha's going to look after you. Martha will always be there for you... always and for ever," she said, dabbing away his tears with her thumb.

8

    The doctor was humming to himself and it was the only sound in the room other than the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. He leant over Mrs. Burrows as he shone a light -- a tiny luminescent orb set into a chromed tube -- directly into one of her eyes. The doctor's demeanor said it all -- he didn't look hopeful. But for one moment, as he continued to move the light from side to side in front of her face, he ceased his humming and appeared to become more optimistic. "Ah, yes... was that...?" he whispered, but after he'd continued the examination for several more seconds he shook his head.
    "I thought I saw a flicker... a reaction, but I must have been mistaken," he finally decided, and released Mrs. Burrows' eyelid, which flipped down again. Then he produced a pin and took Mrs. Burrows' arm by the wrist. Turning her hand