"What's going on? What's wrong with him?" Will shouted, his voice hoarse with panic.
Chester looked blank. "I don't know," he said.
"Did he bang his head on something?" Will yelled.
Chester examined Cal's head, running his hand over his crown and down to the nape of his neck. There was no sign of any injury. "Check his breathing," he muttered to himself, trying to recall first-aid procedures. Tilting back Cal's head, he leaned forward so his ear was over the boy's nose and mouth, and listened. He pulled back slightly, vexed. Then he leaned forward again, forcing Cal's jaw farther down to check that his airway wasn't blocked by an obstruction, and once again cocked his head to one side to listen. Blowing through his lips, Chester sat back on his haunches and placed his hand on the boy's chest.
"Will! I don't think he's breathing!"
Will grabbed his brother's limp arm and shook him.
"Cal! Cal! Come on! Wake up!" he cried.
He placed two fingers on the boy's neck, feeling for the artery and frantically trying to find a pulse.
"Here… No… Where is it?… Nothing… WHERE IS IT?" he yelled. "Am I doing this right?" He looked at Chester, his eyes wide with the wrenching, screaming awareness that he couldn't find a heartbeat.
That his brother was dead.
At that very moment, the clicks were replaced by another sound. A soft popping similar to that of champagne corks going off, but gentler, as if heard through a wall.
A streaming, fluxing whiteness instantly filled the air. The deluge engulfed the boys, catching in the beams of their lights and clogging the space. These particles, like a million tiny petals, spewed forth in torrents. They could have been coming from the tubes, but it was so dense it was impossible to tell.
"No!" Will shrieked.
With a hand clapped over his nose and mouth, he began to heave his brother by his arm, trying to drag him toward the entrance of the cavern. But Will found he couldn't draw breath; the particles were like sand, blocking his mouth and nostrils.
He arched his back and swallowed a little air, enough for him to shout a few words at Chester. "Get him out!" he cried over the incessant popping.
Chester didn't need to be told, but was floundering under the onslaught, blinking and shielding his eyes as the dry, snow-like material continued to spurt forth. The air was so thick and impenetrable that, as he waved at Will, his arm left swirling eddies behind it.
Will slipped and fell to the ground, coughing and choking. "Can't breathe," he wheezed with what little air he had left in his lungs. Lying on his side, he struggled to fill them again, cursing inside as he thought of the gas masks he and Cal had used in the Eternal City. They'd dumped them, figuring they would be of no further use. They'd been wrong.
With his hand held over his face, Will stayed on his side, panting, unable to do anything. Through the deluge he saw Chester hauling Cal along, the boy's body leaving tracks behind it in the whiteness.
Will forced himself to crawl, his lungs aching from lack of oxygen, his head spinning. He couldn't think about his brother; he knew he was going to succumb if he didn't get out of the cavern. His throat and nostrils were blocked as if he'd been buried in flour. With a supreme effort he staggered to his feet and managed a few steps. Chester, his back to Will, was still pulling and heaving Cal's lifeless body.
Will launched himself forward, propelling himself only a couple of paces before collapsing to the ground again. It was enough. He was away from the worst of the swirling maelstrom of whiteness and able to suck in some clean air.
He continued at a slow crawl but hadn't gone very far when he doubled up and coughed so much he was sick, uncontrollably so. To his horror, his vomit was awash with the minute pale particles and small slugs of blood. With the single thought of survival in his mind, he forced himself down the passageway on his hands and knees, pulling himself blindly through the narrow stretch, and didn't stop until he'd reached the letterbox opening.
He heaved himself back out onto the Great Plain and lay coughing and spluttering and throwing up a mottled fluid. But his ordeal wasn't over yet. Where the white specks had stuck to the exposed skin of his neck and face, they began to irritate it, the irritation very quickly transforming into the most excruciating burning sensation. He tried to scratch off the particles, but this just seemed to make things worse: As the white specks came away, they took the skin with them. Soon blood was smeared all over his fingers.
Not knowing what else to do, he grabbed handfuls of dirt and scrubbed furiously at his face and neck. This seemed to do the trick, the intolerable itching and pain easing a little. But his eyes were still on fire, and it took him some minutes to wipe them clean using the inside of his shirtsleeve.
Then Chester appeared. He scrambled up through the opening, staggering around blindly. As he fell on all fours and coughed and retched, Will saw that he had been dragging something behind him. Through his watering eyes, he thought it was Cal. But his heart sank as he realized it was just the rucksacks.
Chester howled, clawing at his face. He was completely covered in the white particles, his hair matted with them and his face furred where they had stuck in his sweat. He howled again, scratching violently at his neck as if he were trying to tear off his own skin. "It burns!" he cried in a strangled, tortured wail.
"Use the dirt, rub it off!" Will yelled.
Chester immediately did so, seizing handfuls of soil and scouring his face with it.
"Make sure it's out of your eyes!"
Chester rummaged in his pants pocket and, bringing out a handkerchief, dabbed urgently at his eyes. After a short while his movements became less frantic. Snot streamed from his nose, and his eyes were still watering and rimmed bright red. His face was a mixture of streaked dirt and blood, as if he were wearing some ghastly mask. He looked at Will with a haunted expression.
"I couldn't take it any longer," he croaked. "I couldn't stay in there… I couldn't breathe." He broke into a racking cough.
"I've got to get him out," Will said, starting toward the opening. "I'm going back in."
"No, you're not!" Chester snapped, leaping to his feet and seizing hold of him.
"I have to!" Will protested, trying to pull away.
"Don't be stupid, Will! What if these things get you, and I can't get you out!" Chester shouted.
Will grappled with his friend, struggling to break loose, but Chester was determined not to let him go. In sheer frustration, Will made a halfhearted attempt to punch Chester, and then began to sob. He knew what Chester was saying made sense. His whole body went limp, as if all his strength had suddenly deserted him.
"OK, OK," Will said in an unsteady voice, holding his hands up to Chester, who released him. He coughed, then threw back his head as if looking for the sky, even though he knew it was hidden from him by many miles of the earth's mantle. He sighed a sigh that shook his whole body as the realization sank in.
"You're right. Cal's dead.," he said.
Chester fixed his eyes on Will, nodding once.
"I'm sorry, Will, I really am."
"He was just trying to help. He was trying to find us some food… and now look what happened." Will's shoulders sank and he bowed his head.
As his raw skin continued to burn, Will rubbed his neck, his hand touching and unconsciously closing around the jade pendant that hung there. It had been given to him by Tam minutes before he was slaughtered by the Styx. "I promised Uncle Tam I'd take care of Cal. I gave him my word," he said bleakly, turning away. "What are we doing here? How did all this happen?" He coughed, and then spoke in a small voice. "Dad's probably dead somewhere just like that, and we're idiots and we're going to die, too. I'm sorry, Chester — game over. We're done for."