Tunnels 05 - Spiral

but then the birdlike man spoke.
    “I’ve taken the normalized readings,” he announced. “Now for the purge.” He jabbed a button.
    Drake twitched several times. Then he cried out at the top of his lungs, his body arching in the chair and his muscles going into such severe contraction that Will thought he might actually snap the bindings around his wrists and ankles.
    The humming of the boxes seemed to resonate through everything in the attic. A small amount of purple light was leaking from around the edges of the eye pads, which meant Will found it difficult to look directly at Drake’s face.
    Chester muttered, “Oh no,” as he saw the sweat coursing down Drake’s face and soaking his shirt.
    “You can tell that he’s had quite a degree of conditioning,” Danforth noted drily as if he were commenting on the weather. “I’m going to increase the amplitude now, to complete the purge.” He twisted a dial.
    Drake’s mouth was open, but there was no sound any longer, no scream. The tendons in his neck and wrists were stretched so tight that they looked as though they might burst through his skin. Then he began to babble.
    “My God, listen . . . that’s Styx!” Chester exclaimed. “He’s speaking in Styx!”
    Will listened in astonishment as Drake’s lips moved, and the bizarre sounds came from the back of his throat in short bursts, like the tearing of dry paper. It was so strange to hear a non-Styx speaking in their tongue. “We should be recording th —”
    “We are,” Danforth interrupted, pointing at the apex of the roof directly above the chair, where a mirrored dome was fixed.
    “Elliott might be able to tell us what he’s saying,” Chester suggested as the Professor waved his hand through the air in a flourish.
    “And that should be it,” he announced.
    He flicked a switch. The humming reduced and the purple light in the eye pads dimmed as Drake slumped loosely forward.
    “Take it all off him now,” Danforth ordered Chester, who quickly did as he was told, removing the harness and the sensors from Drake’s dripping skin.
    Will undid the straps binding him to the chair, then stood up. “Drake? Hello?” he said, his voice concerned as he took hold of the man’s arm and shook it. “Are you all right?”
    Drake didn’t move, his head slumped onto his chest. He appeared to be out for the count.
    “What do we do now?” Will asked, stepping back.
    “Slap him,” the Professor said, kneading one hand with the other as if the thought of doing it himself was abhorrent.
    “You mean it?” Chester quizzed him.
    “Yes,” Danforth confirmed. “Slap him.”
    “OK, then.” Chester propped up Drake’s head, then struck him.
    Danforth hissed, “Put your back into it, boy. Hit him harder than that.”
    But Chester was spared the task as Drake’s head jerked up. “He’s awake,” Chester said gratefully.
    “Tell me how many,” the Professor asked as he thrust three fingers in front of Drake’s face. “How many do you see?”
    “Four and twenty blackbirds,” Drake answered drunkenly, squinting through his half-lidded eyes.
    “Slap him again,” Danforth said.
    Chester swallowed and went to do it, but Drake caught his hand before it made contact with his face.
    “I was joking, for God’s sake,” Drake exclaimed as he sat up straight in the chair and mopped the sweat from his brow. “I’m perfectly all right.”
    Will was looking at Drake with disapproval.
    “I know, I know,” Drake said, then drew in a deep breath. “In normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have taken the risk. But with what’s facing us, I have to do everything I can to improve the odds.”
    “Are you sure you don’t feel any different?” Will asked, scrutinizing him. “Your voice sounds funny.”
    “No, I’m fine. Really. I’ve bitten my tongue — that’s all,” Drake replied. He did sound slightly odd, and perhaps it was because of their relief that he’d come through unharmed, but Will and Chester couldn’t help themselves — they both began to laugh helplessly. “Thanks a bunch, you two,” Drake said, feeling the end of his tongue. He smiled, but then his expression became serious. “I suppose we won’t know how well it’s worked until we run into the Styx again.”
    “Ye of little faith,” Danforth said testily.
    Drake groaned as he lifted himself from the chair. It took him a few seconds to find his legs, then he turned to examine the boxes of electronics on the trolley.