Tunnels 05 - Spiral

booking?”
    “Booking?” Rebecca Two repeated as the old Styx strolled into the reception area and then peered around at the photographs of various activities offered at the exclusive health farm in the depths of the Kentish countryside. The photographs were of people swimming in the Olympic-length pool, having massages and facials, and jogging in a group on the extensive grounds surrounding the converted stately home.
    “Yes, the booking. I assume it’ll be for you, sir?” the receptionist asked, directing the question to the old Styx. He’d wandered to the large windows at the rear of the reception area that looked out onto the swimming pool, and was watching the morning aqua-aerobics class, which was in full swing.
    “Sir? Hello?” the receptionist said, as the grizzled-looking man didn’t bother to reply. She bit her tongue. However exasperated she was becoming with the two odd-looking guests, she had to be careful because the chances were that the man was an important new client.
    She studied his profile as he turned to a bulletin board where all the day’s activities had been posted. With his hair raked back, the elderly man was dressed in a black ankle-length leather coat. That made the receptionist think he might be some famous film director — or, as she scrutinized him further, maybe a musician. She tried to recall the names of the members of the Rolling Stones — they all looked as thin and drawn as he did. Yes, maybe this man
was
one of them. But not the singer with the luscious mouth and the hips — she’d have known if it was him.
    The coach outside could be their tour bus, and maybe his reservation had been made under a pseudonym. That wasn’t uncommon, since celebrities came to the health farm to escape the limelight and get themselves performance-fit again.
    So the receptionist waited patiently, spinning her pencil and quietly humming
Ti-i-i-ime is on my side
to herself. The last thing she wanted to do was offend whatshisname if she could possibly help it.
    A gaggle of women chatting breathlessly to each other chose that moment to pass through the lobby on their way to a Pilates session.
    “How many people do you have staying here?” the old Styx demanded when they’d gone.
    The receptionist was quite unprepared for the severity of his cold, dead eyes on her. Little black holes that made her want to look away. Made her want to run away. “One hundred and twenty guests at full capacity, but we also have a substantial number of people with day passes coming in for classes and the gym.”
    The old Styx nodded. “And are all your guests chronically obese like those women we just saw?”
    Not unsurprisingly, the receptionist was rather taken aback by this question. “I don’t think that’s —”
    “There’s ample human flesh for our purposes,” the old Styx interrupted, speaking to Rebecca Two.
    “What?” the receptionist exclaimed, now looking at him with incomprehension.
    The old Styx had plucked a walkie-talkie from his coat and was speaking on it in the strangest language the receptionist had ever heard.
    “Sorry. It’s just not your day,” Rebecca Two said without emotion.
    There was a crash as the main doors burst open.
    The receptionist’s pencil went spinning across the room as something slavering appeared behind Rebecca Two and Captain Franz.
    With a rasping roar, Alex cannoned into the desk, bowling it over. The receptionist was thrown onto her back. As she lay stunned on the floor, Alex leaped on top of her.
    Giving a wail of relief as she gripped the sides of the young woman’s face, Alex sunk her ovipositor inside the girl, deep into her trachea, where the egg pod squeezed out.
    Alex’s head was up in a second, gluey saliva spilling from around the ovipositor. “Need another . . . quick,” she rasped. “So many babies in me.”
    Glancing fearfully at Alex, the old Styx had retreated well out of the way. He was at the main doors, where a squad of Limiters had turned up to collect their orders.
    “I reckon we should try through here first,” Rebecca Two said to Alex, making for the door the Pilates women had taken.

    “We might be onto something,” Drake declared, as they all gathered around the laptop. With the exception of Chester, who couldn’t be persuaded to leave the briefing room, and Elliott, who didn’t think he should be left alone, everyone was present.
    It had been nearly a fortnight, and there was no doubt about it any longer — the air