Tunnels 05 - Spiral

face.
    Irritated by the lack of response from her sister, Rebecca One gave a small snort. She began to scrape her sharp little nails on the stretch of seat between them, marking the luxurious hide. “This crush of yours is becoming a little too in-your-face. Don’t think it’s gone unnoticed,” she announced. She had her reaction now, as her sister immediately swiveled around to her.
    “What are you on about?” Rebecca Two asked.
    “This thing you’ve got for your toy soldier there,” Rebecca One replied spitefully, tipping her head at the man behind the wheel of the Mercedes. It was Captain Franz, the young New Germanian officer Rebecca Two had taken a shine to while they were in the inner world. “We should have one of our own driving us, not your blue-eyed boy all decked out in a chichi chauffeur’s uniform. You don’t even make him wear the cap because then you wouldn’t be able to see his lovely blond locks.”
    Rebecca One’s eyes burned into the back of Captain Franz’s handsome head as he continued to drive, seemingly oblivious to the exchange behind him.
    “You do talk a load of rubbish!” Rebecca Two fumed. “It’s not like that.”
    “Oh, sure. I’m your sister . . . you can’t kid me,” Rebecca One retorted, shaking her head. “And I just don’t get it.”
    Rebecca Two noticed the look in her twin sister’s eyes — she was genuinely troubled. “Don’t get what?” she asked.
    “Well, for starters, what’s so special about him? He’s just another human, same as any of these worthless Topsoiler slugs up here. But, worse than that, he’s been so Darklit, he’s a zombie.” With her tongue lolling from her mouth, Rebecca One went cross-eyed to emphasize the point. “He’s like some broken, empty doll you drag around for kicks, and it’s not healthy.”
    Captain Franz brought the Mercedes to a stop before a pair of factory gates. Rebecca One ceased her tirade as she saw where they were. “It’s massive,” she said, taking in the hangar-sized buildings.
    “Yes,” Rebecca Two agreed, relieved her sister had other things on her mind now.
    A pair of Limiters in Topsoil clothes opened the gates. Having checked who was in the car, they waved Captain Franz on.
    Rebecca One leaned forward and prodded the New Germanian roughly in the shoulder. “Hey, lapdog, go around the side. I want to see the warehouses first.”
    Captain Franz immediately did as he’d been ordered, steering the car past the small office building, but then he began to slow. “Keep going, dumb-dumb! Take us into that opening!” Rebecca One shouted, then slapped him on the head with such force that he swerved the car. “And watch your driving!”
    Rebecca Two clenched her jaw but said nothing as the Mercedes entered the warehouse.
    “Stop here,” Rebecca One said brusquely. Captain Franz slammed on the brakes, the tires squealing on the painted concrete floor. As the Rebecca twins stepped from the car, the old Styx and his assistant, their stark white collars visible under their long black coats, were already hurrying over.
    “Some place,” Rebecca Two complimented the old Styx as she looked around.
    “A total of forty thousand square feet split over three warehouses. Through there” — he pointed to a set of doors in the far corner of the spacious building — “is the field hospital where we carry out the mass Darklighting and the bomb implant procedures,” he said. “Like so many businesses around here, this factory had gone bust, so we picked up the premises for a song. It’s ideal for what we want, and who’d think of looking for us here?”
    “And how secure is it?” Rebecca One inquired.
    “From yesterday we doubled up on all the entry points. We’ve got both our men and New Germanians on around-the-clock sentry duty,” the old Styx replied. “We’ll also be putting roadblocks on all the approach roads to the estate.”
    Rebecca One nodded. “So when will everything be ready for our guests?”
    The old Styx smiled, his black eyes flashing with excitement. “This first warehouse will be fully prepped by nightfall.” He fell silent as he and the twins watched a procession of New Germanian troops wheeling hospital beds out across the floor, which they then began to arrange in rows. “With all the NHS hospital closures, we had no trouble obtaining as many beds as we needed,” the old Styx said. “We should comfortably fit around a hundred and fifty in this area, and at least