still have to get Chester out.'
His brother looked aghast. 'You don't mean go back? I can't go back, not now, Will. The Styx would do something terrible to me.'
Cal was not alone in his fear of returning underground. Will could barely contain his terror at the prospect of facing the Styx again. He felt as though he had pushed his luck as far as it would go, and to imagine he could carry out some audacious rescue attempt was sheer lunacy.
On the other hand, what would they do if they remained Topsoil? Go on the run? When he really thought about it, it just wasn't realistic. Sooner or later they'd be apprehended by the police, and he and Cal would probably be separated and placed in foster care. Worse than that, he'd live the rest of his life under the shadow of Chester 's death and with the knowledge that he could have joined his father in one of the greatest adventures of the century.
'I don't want to die,' Cal said in a faint voice. 'Not like that.' He pushed his glass away and looked pleadingly into Will's eyes.
This wasn't getting any easier. Will couldn't cope with much more pressure. He shook his head. 'What am I supposed to do? I can't just leave him there. I can't. I won't.'
Later, while Cal and Bartleby lounged in front of the television watching children's programs and eating potato chips, Will couldn't resist going into the cellar. Just as he'd expected, when he swung the shelves out, there wasn’t a trace of the tunnel — they had even gone to the trouble of painting the newly laid brickwork to blend in with the rest of the wall. He knew that behind it would be the usual backfill of stone and soil. They'd done the job thoroughly. No point in wasting any further time there.
Back in the kitchen, he balanced on a stool while he hunted through the jars on top of the cupboards. He found his mother's video money in a porcelain jar — there was about Ј20 in loose change.
He was in the hallway on his way to the living room when he began to see tiny dots of light dancing before his eyes, and all over his body pinpricks of heat broke out. Then, without any warning, his legs went out from under him. He dropped the jar, which glanced off the edge of the hall table and shattered, scattering the change all over the floor. It was as if he were in slow motion as he collapsed, a fierce pain burning through his head until everything turned black and he lost consciousness.
Cal and Bartleby came rushing out of the living room at the noise. 'Will! What's the matter?' Cal cried, kneeling next to him.
Will slowly came around, his temples throbbing painfully. 'I don't know,' he said feebly. 'Just felt awful, all of a sudden.' He started to cough, and had to hold his breath in order to stop.
'You're burning up,' Cal said, feeling his forehead.
'Freezing…' Will could barely talk as his teeth rattled together. He made an effort to get up, but didn't have the strength.
'Oh, no.' Cal 's face was creased with concern. 'It could be something from the Eternal City. Plague!'
Will was silent as his brother pulled him over to the bottom step of the staircase and propped his head on it. He grabbed the afghan and put it around him. After a while, Will directed Cal to the bathroom to get some aspirin. He swallowed them down with a sip of Coke and, after a brief rest, managed to get shakily to his feet with assistance from Cal.
Will's eyes were feverish and unfocused, and his voice trembled. 'I really think we should get help,' he said, mopping the sweat from his brow.
'Is there anywhere we can go?' Cal asked.
Will sniffed, swallowed, and nodded, his head feeling as though it were about to burst. 'There's only one place I can think of.'
'Get yerself out here!' the Second Officer bawled into the cell, his head pushed so far forward that the tendons in his bull-like neck stood proud, like knotted lengths of rope.
From the shadows came several sniffs as Chester did his best to control his terrified sobbing. Ever since he had been recaptured and brought back to the Hold, the Second Officer had been treating him brutally. The man had taken it upon himself to make Chester 's life a living nightmare, withholding his meals and waking him up if he happened to nod off on the ledge by emptying a bucket of ice-cold water over his head or by screaming threats through the inspection hatch. All this probably had something to do with the thick bandage wound around the Second Officer's head — Will's blow with the shovel had knocked him out cold — and, what was worse, when he came to, the Styx had spent the best part of a day interrogating him over the accusation that he had been negligent in his duties. So to say that the Second Officer was now very bitter and vindictive would be putting it mildly.
Chester, half starved and exhausted to the point of collapse, wasn't sure how much more of this treatment he could take. If life had been hard for him before the botched escape attempt, it was that much worse now.
'Don't make me come in there and get you!' the Second Officer was yelling. Before he'd finished, Chester shuffled barefoot into the wan light of the corridor. Shielding his eyes with one hand, he lifted his head. It was streaked gray with ingrained dirt, and his shirt was torn.
'Yes, sir,' he mumbled subserviently.
'The Styx want to see you. They've got something to tell you,' the Second Officer said, his voice distorted with malice, and then he began to chortle. 'Something that'll fix you good and proper.' He was still laughing as, unbidden, Chester started down the corridor toward the main door to the Hold, the soles of his feet rasping sluggishly across the gritty stones.
'Shift it!' the Second Officer snapped, thrusting his bunch of keys into the small of Chester 's back.
As they went through the main door, Chester had to cover his eyes altogether, he was now so unused to the light. He continued to shuffle along, heading on a course that would have taken him through to the front desk of the police station if the Second Officer hadn't stopped him.
'And where do you think you're off to? You don't think you're going home, do you?' The man started to guffaw and then became deadly serious again. 'No, you go
Chester, lowering his hands and trying to see through his scrunched-up eyes, made a slow quarter turn and then froze, rooted to the spot.
'The Dark Light?' he asked fearfully, not daring to turn his face toward the Second Officer.
'No, we're past all that now. This is where you get your comeuppance, you worthless little squit.'
They passed through a series of corridors, the Second Officer chivying Chester along with further jabs and shoves, chuckling to himself all the way. He quieted down as they rounded a corner and came in sight of an open doorway. From this an intense light streamed out, illuminating the whitewashed wall opposite.
Although Chester 's movements were languid and his expression blank, inwardly his fears were raging. Frantically he debated with himself whether he should make a run for it and bolt down the corridor ahead. He didn't have the slightest idea where it led, or how far he'd get, but it would, at the very least, put off facing whatever was waiting for him in that room. For a while, anyway.
He slowed even further, his eyes hurting as he forced himself to look directly at the blaze of light flooding from the doorway. He was getting closer. He didn't know what was waiting inside — another of their exquisitely horrible tortures? Or maybe… maybe
His whole body stiffened, every muscle wanting to do anything but carry him into that dazzling light.
'Nearly there,' the officer said over Chester 's shoulder, and Chester knew that he had no alternative but to cooperate. There were going to be no miraculous reprieves, no timely escapes.
He was dragging his heels so much that he was barely moving at all when the Second Officer gave him such a hefty shove that he was knocked clean off his feet and sent flying through the doorway into the light. Skidding over the stone floor on his front, he came to a rest and lay there, a little stunned.
The light was all around him, and he was blinking rapidly in its harsh glare. He heard the door slam and, from a rustle of papers, he knew at once there was someone else in the room. He immediately imagined who it — or they — would be: two tall Styx, most likely looming behind a table, just as there'd been during the Dark Light sessions.
'Stand up,' ordered a reedy, nasal voice.
