That was when they heard it.
A voice they both knew.
29
"Same old Will," she said, rooting them to the spot.
Will was halfway under the door, his hand gripping Chester 's forearm, ready to pull him in, when he glanced at the kitchen entrance and froze.
A young girl walked into the room, two Styx flanking her.
"Rebecca?" Will gasped, and shook his head as if his eyes were deceiving him.
"Rebecca!" he said again, incredulously.
"Where are we going, then?" she said coolly. The two Styx edged forward a fraction, but she held up her hand and they halted.
Was this some trick? She was wearing their clothes, their uniform — the black coat with the stark white shirt. And her jet-black hair was different — it was raked back tightly over her head.
"What are you…" was all Will managed to say before words failed him.
She'd been captured. That must be it. Brainwashed, or held hostage.
"Why do we keep doing these things?" She sighed theatrically, raising one eyebrow. She looked relaxed and in control. Something wasn't right here: something jarred.
No
She was one of them.
"You're…" he gasped.
Rebecca laughed. "Quick, isn't he?"
Behind her, more Styx were entering the kitchen. Will's mind reeled, his memories playing back at breakneck speed as he tried to reconcile Rebecca, his sister, with this Styx girl before him. Were there signs, any clues he'd missed?
"How?" he cried.
Reveling in his confusion, Rebecca spoke. "It's really very simple. I was placed in your family when I was two. It's the way with us… to rub shoulders with the Heathen… It's the training for the elite."
She took a step forward.
"Don't!" Will said, his mind starting to work again, and his hand surreptitiously reaching inside his coat pocket. "I can't believe it!"
"Hard to accept, isn't it? I was put there to keep an eye on you — and, if we were lucky, flush your mother into the open… your real mother."
"It's not true."
"It doesn't matter what you believe," she replied curtly. "My job had run its course, so here I am, back home again. No more role-playing."
"No!" Will stuttered as he closed his hand around the little cloth package that Tam had given him.
"Come on, it's over," Rebecca said impatiently. With a barely perceptible nod of her head, the Styx on either side of her lurched forward, but Will was ready. He slung the node stone across the kitchen with all his might. It soared between the two advancing Styx and struck the dirty white tiles, breaking into a tiny snowstorm of fragments.
Everything stopped.
For a split second, Will thought nothing was going to happen, that it wasn't going to work. He heard Rebecca laugh, a dry, mocking laugh.
Then there was a whooshing sound, as if air was being sucked from the room. Each tiny splinter, as it sprinkled to the ground, flared with a dazzling incandescence, loosing beams that blasted the room like a million searchlights. These were so intense that everything was shot through with an unbearable, searing whiteness.
It didn't seem to bother Rebecca in the slightest. With the light ablaze around her, she stood out like some dark angel, her arms folded in her characteristic pose as she clucked with disapproval.
But the two advancing Styx stopped in their tracks and let out screams like fingernails being dragged down a blackboard. They staggered back blindly, trying to cover their eyes.
This gave Will the opportunity he was looking for. He yanked Chester over, pulling him from the crank handle.
But already the light was dwindling, and another two Styx were pushing aside their blinded comrades. They lunged at Will, their clawlike fingers raking out toward him. As he continued to pull on one of Chester 's arms both Styx had latched on to the other. It turned into a tug-of-war between Will and the Styx, with the terrified whimpering Chester caught in the middle. Worse still, now that nobody was bracing the crank handle, it was whirring wildly around as the massive door sank slowly down on its runners. And Chester was right in its path.
"Push them off!" Will cried.
Chester tried to kick out, but it was no use; they had too strong a hold on him. Will wedged himself against the door in a vain attempt to slow its progress, but it was just too heavy and nearly unbalanced him. There was no way he could do anything about it and save Chester at the same time.
As the Styx grunted and strained, and Chester tried with all his might to resist, Will knew the Styx couldn't be beaten. Chester was slipping out of his hands and screaming in pain as the Styx 's fingernails bit deep into the flesh of his arm.
Then, as the door continued its relentless descent, the realization hit Will — Chester was going to be crushed unless he let go.
Unless he released Chester to the Styx. The crank handle was spinning madly. The door was little more than three feet from the ground, and Chester was doubled over — its entire weight pressing down on his back. Will had to do something and quick.
" Chester, I'm sorry!" Will screamed.
For an instant, Chester stared with horror-stricken eyes into those of his friend, and then Will let go of his arm and he flew straight back into the Styx, the momentum bowling them over in a tumbling confusion of arms and legs. Chester shouted Will's name once as the door clanged down with a terrible finality. Will could only watch numbly through the milky glass of the porthole as Chester and the Styx came to rest in a heap against the wall. One of the Styx immediately picked himself up and raced back toward the door.
"JAM THE HANDLE!" Cal 's shout galvanized Will. As Cal held a light orb, Will set to work on the mechanism by the side of the door. He whipped out his penknife and, using the largest blade, attempted to wedge the gear wheels with it.
"Please, please work!" Will begged. He tried several places before the blade slipped in between two of the largest gear wheels and stayed in place. Will took his hands away, praying it would do the trick. And it did, the little red penknife quivering as the Styx applied pressure to the handle on the other side.
Will glanced through the porthole again. Like some macabre silent film, he couldn't help but watch the desperation on Chester 's face as he valiantly battled with the Styx. He'd somehow managed to get hold of Will's shovel and was trying to beat them off with it. But he was overpowered by their sheer numbers as they swarmed over him with the intent of devouring locusts.
But then one face blocked out everything else as it loomed in the porthole.
Rebecca's face. She pursed her lips sternly and shook her head at Will, as if she was telling him off. Just like she'd done for all those years in Highfield. She was saying something, but it was inaudible through the door.
"We have to go, Will. They'll get it open," Cal said urgently. Will tore his eyes away with difficulty. She was still mouthing something at him. And with a sudden, chilling realization, he knew just what it was. Exactly what it was. She was singing to him.
"'Sunshine'…!" he said bitterly. "'You are my sunshine! "
They fled down the rock passage with Bartleby bringing up the rear, and eventually came to a dome-shaped atrium with numerous passages leading off it. Everything was rounded and smoothed, as if eons of flowing water had rubbed away any sharp edges. It was dry now, every surface coated in an abrasive silt, like powdered glass.
"We've only got one mask," Will said suddenly to Cal, as the realization hit him. He took the canvas and rubber contraption from his brother and examined it.
"Oh, no!" Cal 's face dropped. "What do we do now? We can't go back."