Tunnels 05 - Spiral

person. She’d had a respite from the life-or-death struggle that had been her existence for so long, of not knowing what lay around the corner, be it a hostile renegade, a Styx, or some predator on the prowl for its next meal. Topsoilers took so much for granted, living their lives in such a benign environment, with all the food they could eat.
    But, above all else, the months at Parry’s house had allowed Elliott the opportunity to be clean. After all the years of grime and filthy clothes, she might have overdone it with her long baths, which she sometimes took two or three times a day, but it was a luxury she’d never experienced before.
    And she’d always known, deep down, that this couldn’t last.
    That eventually something would come along to disrupt it. And that
something
was trundling inexorably toward her, Will, Chester, and every one of them right now, and she had no choice but to switch back to her old self. For her own sake, and for the sakes of those she loved.
    With a sigh, her gaze drifted to the long rifle propped beside the dressing table. She reached over to retrieve it, working the bolt to make sure the chamber was empty. Through her bedroom window she had a view of one of Parry’s statues on the lawn at the back of the house, a reproduction of Saint George in his mortal struggle with the dragon. She put her eye to the scope, adjusting it to compensate for the range, then settled the crosshairs on the dragon’s head. There was a click as she dry-fired the rifle.
    “This is all I know,” she said, as she lowered the weapon to her lap. She ran a finger over the dented barrel and the numerous nicks in the wooden stock. Many of these marked moments of peril, challenges over which she’d managed to prevail.
    So far.
    She twisted around on her seat to take in the Elliott in the dressing-table mirror, the one with tidy hair and spotless skin, dressed in a red angora sweater and a knee-length skirt. As she continued to stare at her reflection, it did seem as though there was another person there. Someone who wasn’t she.
    The sensation was so powerful that when Elliott shook her head, she almost expected her reflection to remain still, and possibly even to begin talking to her.
    “And I don’t know you.” As if uneasy under the stranger’s gaze, Elliott looked quickly away from the mirror. Rising from her seat, she slid the rifle onto the dressing table. As the bottles and items of makeup were pushed aside, some falling to the floor, she went to fetch her old clothes.

    The moment Will and Chester entered the house and saw Elliott at the foot of the stairs, they knew something was wrong. Not only did she have her rifle with her, but the feminine clothes were gone, and she’d cropped her hair short again. The Elliott they’d relied upon for so many months while they were underground had been restored to them.
    “Uh-oh,” Will exhaled. “Looks like trouble.”
    Chester was about to ask her what was going on when Elliott ordered, “In there,” and pointed at the drawing room.
    The boys found that everyone else was already assembled in the chairs around the fireplace, with the exception of Parry.
    Will gave Drake a questioning look.
    “Waiting for my father,” he said.
    Then Parry stormed in and, without a moment’s delay, began to speak. “Every call made from the phone in the study is logged.” He brandished several pages in his fist. “As you might guess, the line isn’t there for anything remotely sensitive. It’s for routine, day-to-day stuff — ordering oil for the central heating and suchlike.”
    He put on his reading glasses to examine the top sheet. “A number cropped up on the log not long after you all arrived. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but I had another careful run through and found two further calls to the same number. The duration of each of them was around a minute. And they were nothing to do with me.”
    “But none of us were allowed in the study until very recently,” Mrs. Burrows said, turning to Drake. “Are you sure it wasn’t you?”
    “I wasn’t even here when the second and third calls were made,” he replied. “The only explanation is that someone’s been sneaking in and making these calls in secret.”
    Everyone looked at each other.
    “But why would any of us do that? And who were the calls to?” Mrs. Burrows asked.
    “London. And the number’s unobtainable now,” Parry said.
    Drake stood up. “I’m afraid I do know who