Tunnels 04, Closer

bring the vial to you," Dr. Burrows volunteered.
    Will found his voice. "Don't do this, Dad. Please. You don't know who you're dealing with."
    Dr. Burrows was resolute as he went over to Will and placed his journal on the ground in front of him. "Look after that for me." Then he took the microphone from Rebecca Two and spoke. "Is this turned on?" he asked, his voice booming across the jungle.
    "It's turned on," Rebecca Two answered wearily.
    Dr. Burrows continued. "Right, Elliott, this is me. I want you to do exactly what I tell you." He floundered, unsure what he was going to say next.
    "Tell her again that we're going to execute one of you," Rebecca One said casually, as she examined her nails.
    "I will do no such thing!" Dr. Burrows snapped, straight into the microphone. "That's just silly. What could you possibly hope to achieve by that?"
    "Revenge. We're going to exact our revenge because of what she's done. In case you hadn't noticed, Elliott whacked poor Coxy. She hurt one of our pals, and we really don't like that," Rebecca One continued, her voice hard. "Go on... tell Elliott what I've just told you."
    Dr. Burrows blew through his lips with disbelief. "Oh, fine. If you're going to murder someone, then let it be me," he offered, not taking the threat seriously.
    Will shouted at his father as he saw Rebecca Two's hand with the pistol begin to rise. "Dad, for Christ's sake, give them the microphone back and stop--"
    "No, son, I've had enough of this posturing. They don't mean it. And Elliott will bring the virus here and we can all get on with our lives. The work we've been doing together is far too important for all this tomfoolery to get in the way." He raised the microphone to his mouth. "Elliott, I've just told them they can kill me if one of us has to die. I know they're bluffing, so--"
    "No, we're not," Rebecca Two said.
    She lifted the pistol and, without flinching, emptied it into Dr. Burrows' back.
    The multiple shots were broadcast by the PA, reverberating through the jungle as if some colossus was thumping on a kettledrum.
    For a moment, Dr. Burrows just stood there, swaying.
    "Will?" he gasped.
    Then his legs buckled and he flopped forward.
    "Oh, no! Dad! DAD!" Will cried out, breaking from the Limiters' grip and falling on top of his father's journal. He reached out his hand to where Dr. Burrows lay dead. "NO!"

19

    Will was in no state to notice what was going on around him. He was sitting over by his father's body, left where it had fallen. Still without a shirt, he didn't seem to care about the sun on his shoulders. In fact, Will had only moved once from Dr. Burrows' side, to retrieve his father's glasses from where they'd spun off after the shooting. He was now holding these in his hand, Dr. Burrows' beloved journal in the other.
    From time to time he shook his head. He just couldn't accept what had happened. Less than an hour ago they'd been inside the pyramid, and his father had been bubbling with enthusiasm about how they would return there for a proper look at the murals they'd discovered.
    It may have been an uncertain one, but nonetheless there had been a future in which his father would have played no small part. All that had gone with Dr. Burrows' death. All that commitment, passion and energy his father had shown in his single-minded pursuit of knowledge, often with scan regard for his own safety, had been cut short in the millisecond the Styx girl had pulled the trigger.
    Looking sideways at the sky, Will was stuck by the realization that everything was continuing without his father there; time was still trundling along on its relentless path without him around to witness it.
    Nothing had changed.
    Everything had changed.
    He'd wept at the beginning, but now there were no tears, and no interest in what was going to happen next. A single Limiter had been left to watch him, but he didn't turn to see who it was. If the twins had come back to torture him or kill him, then there was nothing he could do about it. He had little doubt they would, when it suited them.
    "You should wear this," a man's voice said, and a green towel was put over Will's shoulders. "Otherwise you'll get sunstroke." A second towel landed beside him, along with an aluminum canteen, which made a noise as if it was full of water as if tell on top of the towel. "Your wound is still bleeding -- you might want to clean it and bandage it with this, or die Fliegen ... the flies... will get to it."
    The voice was efficient