Tunnels 05 - Spiral

through.”
    “Gosh! I’m so glad I came with you,” Chester piped up.

    One of the first to be born, the Styx Warrior larva was barely recognizable as the stumpy little maggot Vane had cradled in her arms only days earlier.
    Having sprouted two pairs of legs and a muscular tail, its appearance bore more than a passing resemblance to a tadpole making the transition into a frog. Only no lily pad could have supported this brute’s weight; measuring more than three feet from tip to tail, it was more on a par with an overgrown Gila monster.
    And as the Warrior larva had grown, building up reserves of protein for its impending pupation, food was all it thought about. It slept only sporadically, nearly every minute of its day spent trying to satisfy its insatiable hunger.
    So when the Warrior larva chanced upon a pool of warm blood that had seeped under the doors to the warehouse, it began to lap at it energetically with its gray, darting tongue. The regular meat deliveries were all well and good, but not a touch on living or freshly killed quarry. Having licked the concrete floor clean, it began to investigate the source of the blood.
    Like a dog outside a pantry, it scampered up and down as it probed the gap under the doors with its tongue. As the larva’s olfactory receptors picked up traces of the body on the other side, blood-flecked drool leaked from its maw. It snorted in frustration. It didn’t know how to get at the juicy meal and had begun to scuttle up and down again when it bumped into one of the doors. It observed how the unlocked door hinged open a fraction.
    The Warrior larva paused for a moment, its slitted black pupils considering the barrier in its way. Then it began to ram its head against the door. The larva battered it harder and harder, until there was finally enough room for it to squeeze through. And it couldn’t believe its luck as it surveyed the dead Limiter stretched out on the floor. The door had swung shut again behind it, but the Warrior larva didn’t care — it had no intention of communicating its find to its sibling brothers. Keeping the whole body to itself was far too tempting.
    It began to gorge itself on the delicious corpse. It was oblivious to its surroundings while it nipped off strips of flesh from the Limiter’s face with its needle-like teeth and gulped them down.

    The minibuses parked at the rear of the two-story building, and everyone clambered out and followed Parry inside. Eddie and one of his men were waiting for them in a room filled with cardboard boxes. Will looked for Elliott, but there was no sign of her.
    “Your Old Guard have the factory surrounded. We haven’t seen anything to suggest that anyone inside is aware of our presence yet,” Eddie reported to Parry. “And we’re ready to lock down the whole estate.”
    “Perfect,” Parry said. “Go ahead and seal the place. From now on, nothing goes in or out.”
    Eddie spoke to his man in Styx. After he’d hurried off, Eddie addressed Drake and the rest of the party. “The floor below is a half basement used for storage. I’ve established it as one of four Objective Rally Points for the Old Guard. You can see the target location from there, but don’t venture too close to the windows.” He turned back to Parry. “And my surveillance team is waiting for you on the roof, Commander.”
    “Excellent — I’ll come and take a dekko. But first I want to hear from Celia,” Parry said, swiveling to Mrs. Burrows. “That thing you do — can you do it from here? Because I need you to tell me what’s over the road.”
    Mrs. Burrows nodded, then tipped her head back. Will heard Stephanie’s sharp intake of breath as his mother’s eyeballs rotated upward so that only the whites were showing.
    “People . . . humans . . . maybe five hundred and fifty . . . no, more, I think. Maybe six hundred — I can’t tell precisely,” Mrs. Burrows said.
    “And Styx?” Parry asked.
    “Yes . . . but not many. I don’t know . . . three dozen or more?”
    “It would be helpful to know the exact number,” Parry pressed her.
    A bead of sweat broke from Mrs. Burrows’s hairline and trickled down the center of her forehead. “It’s no good — I’m getting jumbled signals,” she whispered. Then a shudder ran through her as her eyes suddenly righted themselves. For a moment she seemed to be in a daze, then she turned to Parry. “This is strange — it’s as though I can’t tune in.”
    Parry stroked his beard