Tunnels 05 - Spiral

if any of these Limiters had been on top of the pyramid, watching as Dr. Burrows was murdered. He’d been highly critical to Chester about Drake’s short alliance with Eddie when they’d mounted an operation together in the Eternal City, although he hadn’t said anything directly to Drake about it. He found it impossible to believe that there was such a thing as a good Styx.
    “Will?” Drake repeated.
    “Yes . . . fine,” Will lied through his clenched teeth.
    “So you’re Will Burrows,” Eddie said gently. “I’ve heard much about you.”
    “Really,” Will grunted, unnerved by the attention from the Styx.
    “And about your family: Tam, your mother, Sarah . . . and Cal, your brother. And it is in relation to him that we have an apology to make to you.”
    “Cal?” was all Will could say.
    “Yes, about his Hunter. I believe the animal’s name was Bartleby.”
    “
Was?
” Drake burst out.
    But Eddie continued. “There was a serious and inexcusable lapse in protocol at one of the observation posts that I established on the hills surrounding the estate, and your Hunter got the better of the team manning it,” Eddie said. “The Limiter on duty watch allowed the animal to steal up on him, and attack.”
    “What are you talking about?” Will demanded.
    “Unfortunately, Bartleby was killed.” Eddie pointed his clawlike finger at the Humvee parked farther down the track behind Will. Will turned and began to walk mechanically toward the vehicle. He didn’t want to see what was waiting for him but felt compelled to look.
    There was a shape on the flat hood. Will hinged up the lens from over his eye — with the advent of dawn, it was becoming unnecessary.
    As he came to the vehicle, he saw the shape was Bartleby. His fore- and hind legs were bound with rope, his carcass stretched across the front of the vehicle as if the big cat was a trophy kill from a hunting trip.
    Similar to the color pervading the dawn sky, Will could clearly see the network of cobalt veins under Bartleby’s slate gray skin, which seemed to have lightened in death. And Bartleby’s amber eyes had also lost all their intensity and were now pale as sour milk, their lenses opalescent as they stared into space.
    But above all else, Will found it impossible to accept that the cat was motionless. He’d always been so full of life, always prancing everywhere in his permanent quest for something to eat, always up to no good like some mischievous child.
    “Bart,” Will whispered. Part of him almost expected the cat to wake up, just as he had so many times before when Will had disturbed him during one of his naps. But he knew that wasn’t going to happen. Extending his hand, he rubbed one of the Hunter’s chunky paws. “Poor old Bartleby,” he said, his throat tight with emotion. “Poor old chap.”
    He was muttering these same words and shaking his head as he made his way back to the ford. He dragged his feet, his body limp with grief and frustration.
    Everyone was watching him, but no one spoke until Eddie broke the silence.
    “I am truly sorry for this accident.”
    “You’re sorry, are you?” Will growled.
    He could hear his dead brother’s voice shouting in his ears, Cal’s voice, hungry for revenge, saying, “Kill the filthy White Necks! Go on, Will, let them bloody have it!”
    Will realized there was nothing to stop him. He could gun down Eddie and these soldiers, and there’d be no comeback. He wasn’t breaking the law. Drake and Sweeney could bury the corpses in the forest, just like Bartleby’s would probably be buried, too.
    “You’re sorry?” Will said again, daring the man to respond. “
How
flipping sorry is that?” He thrust his Sten threateningly at Eddie.
    He itched to pull the trigger.
    He had tears in his eyes now.
    “You people take everything away from me. Again and again. All you do is kill. I . . .”
    He tensed his finger.
    “Will!” Drake burst out.
    “Easy . . . Don’t do anything you might regret, laddie,” Sweeney said as he swept in and seized the barrel of Will’s Sten, deflecting it toward the ground. Will didn’t resist as Sweeney gently pulled the weapon from his hands. “Never act out of anger.”
    “I want to make amends,” Eddie continued.
    Drake was nonplussed. “What?”
    Eddie waded through the ford toward him. “Let me dispose of that for you,” he offered, indicating the grenade still in his hand. “You have no need of it now.”
    Drake looked at Eddie