Will watched as the twin on the left took something that hung around her neck and held it up into the searchlights. It glittered as the beams caught it: a small glass phial, or so it appeared.
"Choice little number, this… bottled genocide… the big daddy of all pandemics from centuries ago. We call it Dominion."
"Dominion," the other repeated.
"We're going to let it rip Topsoil and—"
"— the Colony will reclaim its rightful home."
The twin with the phial proffered it to her sister as if she was proposing a toast.
"To a new London."
"To a new world," the other one added.
"Yes, world."
"I don't believe you, you witches! It's all trash talk!" Will protested. "You're lying!"
"Why would we bother?" the twin on the right countered, waving a second phial. "See this? We've got the vaccine, old chap. You Topsoilers won't be able to produce it in time. The whole country will be crippled, and there for the taking."
"So don't flatter yourself that we're down her just on your account."
"We've been doing a spot of spring-cleaning in the Deeps, ridding it of rotten old renegades and traitors to the cause."
"As well as running some final trials on Dominion — but then, some of your new buds have seen that for themselves."
"Ask Elliott. She knows the story."
At the mention of her name, Elliott jerked her head up from behind the rifle. "The Bunker," she mouthed at Will, recalling the sealed cells she'd blundered across with Cal.
Will's mind raced. He knew in his gut that Rebecca — the Rebeccas, he had to keep reminding himself — were capable of the most abject cruelty. Did they really have a plague? His thoughts were brought to an abrupt end as the twosome started up again.
"So, to business, bro," the Rebecca on the left said. "We're going to make you a one-time offer."
"But we're going back first," added the other.
Will watched as the doppelgangers both spun daintily on their toes and began to skip their way up the slope.
"I might be able to nail one…" Elliott whispered. She was behind her rifle again.
"No, wait!" Will pleaded with her.
"…but not both," Elliott went on.
"No. You'll only make it worse. Hear what they've got to say," Will begged, the blood in his veins turning to ice as he imagined the pack of stalkers descending on their gang of four, ripping each of them limb from limb.
As he watched, both figures slipped from view among the menhirs. What were the twins up to? What was this offer going to be?
He didn't have to wait long to find out. The twins yelled down at him in quick succession.
"People have a habit of dying around you, Will, don't they?"
"Fun-loving Uncle Tam, sliced to shreds."
"And that fat fool Imago. A little fish told me he got sloppy—"
"— and now he's stone-cold dead," the other twin chimed in.
"By the way, have you bumped into your real mother yet? Sarah's down here, and she's looking for you."
"Somehow she got it into her head that you're to blame for Tam's death, and—"
"No! She knows that's not true!" Will cried, his voice cracking.
For a beat the twins were silent, as if they'd been taken by surprise.
"Well, she won't get away from us a second time," one Rebecca promised, not sounding quite so confident anymore.
"No, she won't. And while we're playing family reunions, sis, do tell him about Grandma Macaulay," the other Rebecca suggested with a harsh edge to her voice. This twin was clearly not fazed in the slightest by Will's interruption.
"Oh, yes, I forgot about her. She's dead," the first Rebecca answered bluntly. "From unnatural causes."
"We spread her on the pennybun fields." They both shrieked with laughter, and Will heard Cal murmur, his face still pressed against Bartleby.
"No," Will croaked, fearing for Cal. "It's not true," he said weakly. "They're lying." Then, in an anguished shout, he asked them, "Why are you doing this? Can't you just leave me alone?"
"Sorry. Not possible," one answered.
"An eye for an eye," the other added.
"Out of curiosity, why did you put a bullet in that trapper we were 'questioning' back on the Great Plain?" a twin continued. "It was you, wasn't it Elliott?"
"Did you get him mixed up with Drake?" the other said, then gave a full-bodied guffaw. "Bit trigger-happy, aren't you?"
Will and Elliott exchanged confused looks, and she mouthed "Oh no," at him.
"And as for that silly old goat, Dr. Burrows — we left him to putter around…"
Will stiffened as he heard his father's name, his heart missing several beats.
"— like bait in a trap—"
"— and we didn't even have to finish him off."
"Looks like he did the job for us."
The twins high-pitched giggles echoed around the dark stones.
"No, not Dad," Will whispered, shaking his head as he pulled back behind the menhir. He slid down its rough surface and slumped to the ground, his head hung low.
"So this is what we're putting on the table," a twin shouted, her voice deadly serious once more.
"If you want your little gang to live—"
"— then hand yourself over."
"And we'll be lenient with them," her sister piped in.
They were toying with him! Just as if they were playing some childish game, only this was sheer torture.
They went on in persuasive tones, telling him that his surrender would help his friends. Will could hear what the Rebeccas were saying, but it was all just noise. As though a dense fog had descended on him, he felt disoriented, and it was all he could do to sit upright against the menhir. He examined the ground around him, listlessly lifting a handful of dirt and crushing it in his fist. As he raised his head, his eyes alighted on Cal's face. Tears were streaming down the boy's cheeks.
Will had no idea what to say to his brother — he couldn't begin to express what he himself felt about Grandma Macaulay's death — so he just turned away. In the opposite direction, he noticed Elliott had left her position behind the menhir. She was snake-crawling through the arch by the edge of the Pore, almost at the first of the stone steps that led nowhere. Connected to her by the rope, Chester had begun the same short journey.
Trying to pull himself together, Will flung aside the fistful of dirt. He glanced again at Chester. He knew he should be following him, but he couldn't bring himself to — move. He was in a maelstrom of indecision. Should he give up the game and just hand himself over? Sacrifice himself in a bid to save the lives of his brother, Chester, and Elliott? It was the least he could do… After all, he'd gotten them into this. And if he didn't surrender, then they were probably all doomed, anyway.
"So what's it to be, big bro?" a Rebecca twin prompted him. "Going to do the right thing?"
Elliott was now completely hidden from sight down the flight of steps. "Don't, Will! It won't make any difference," she called to him.
"We're waiting!" shouted the other Rebecca, without any hint of her former humor. "Ten seconds, ready or not!"
The sisters began to count down, their alternating voices proclaiming each second.
"Ten!"
"Nine!"
"Oh, God," Will mumbled, throwing another glance at Cal.
"Eight!"
Sobs wracking his body, Cal babbled incomprehensibly at Will, who could only shake his head hopelessly in response.
"Seven!"
From behind the edge of the Pore, Elliott was urging him and Cal to get moving.
"Six!"
Chester, at the top of the steps, was jabbering at him, rapidly.