"…sweep…"
"…thorough search…"
He still didn't dare open his eyes, praying that he was sufficiently hidden behind the rotund body. It would only take one of the Styx to notice his arm or leg, and the jig would be up. He thought briefly of Elliott lying in the small ditch on the other side from him.
Then it happened. His leg seized up with pulses of agonizing pain. The cramps rippled through his calf and thigh as if someone with an iron grip were mercilessly crushing each of his muscles, all at the same time. He yearned to pull himself up ever so slightly by his arms, but he didn't dare.
His leg spasmed again, as if it had a mind of its own. He fought against its involuntary movements. His whole concentration was upon it, so much so that, for a few seconds, he forgot everything — the stench and the terse babble of the Limiters and the stalker so close by. But the pain and the shaking were growing worse. He had to do something.
Oh Sweet Mercy! He tensed his arms and heaved himself up just a fraction. The weight on his leg was reduced and the relief was instant, but the stake shifted slightly. He realized that the Limiters had stopped talking.
Please, please, please! He prayed.
The Limiters began to speak again.
"Topsoiler," one was saying. "We will find him…"
Immediately there came another sentence, but only a single word registered with Will. It was said with a different intonation, as if the Styx was showing great respect.
"…Rebecca…"
Rebecca? No, no, it couldn't be! His mind somersaulted. But it had to be his sister — the witch he'd thought was his sister — they were referring to. Why else would they have happened to use that particular name? It was just too much of a coincidence.
The Limiters fell silent. He detected the dog's snorts, clearly, as if it had moved closer, then heard the sound of boots scuffing in the dust. He half opened one eye and saw lights shifting over the walls and roof. Were the Styx closing around him, encircling him? Had he been caught?
No.
They were moving on.
Their footfalls resumed a single rhythm. They were leaving.
But he had to hold on and wait. Thankful that the Limiters were moving quickly, he clenched his teeth. He didn't think he could tolerate the smell for much longer.
The something tugged at his ankle.
"All clear," Elliott hissed in a whisper. "Get down."
Will immediately pitched backward from the stake, falling onto the ground and crab-walking away from the Coprolite as fast as he could.
"For goodness' sake, be quiet! What is it?" she asked.
He flexed his fingers, the ones that had been inside the Coprolite's dust suit. There was a sticky wetness to them. Juices from the decaying cadaver. He shivered, shocked to the core. Not looking at his hand, he lifted it gingerly to his face, and caught the rancid stench of old death. Instantly he whipped his hand away, stretching it as far as he possibly could. He felt his gorge rising and took some rapid breaths. He rubbed his hand in the dirt, scouring it again and again with fistfuls of loose sand.
"Gross!" he exclaimed, and sniffed at his hand once more. He recoiled, but not so violently this time, the stench having lessened. "How can anyone live like this?" he mumbled through tight lips.
"Get used to it," Elliott replied in a flat voice. "This is what Drake and I do every day." She raised her rifle to scan down the tunnel, adding in a cold voice, "To survive."
She led him, not back out onto the plain, but deeper into the tunnel. He felt in no condition to go on with the excursion, and was stumbling and exhausted. His skin still crawled at the thought of the dead body he'd touched. He was suddenly angry for himself, and for the men on the stakes, and angry that Rebecca seemed to be somehow linked to what was going on. Would he ever be free of her?
"Hurry it up!" Elliott whispered sharply as he dragged his feet.
He stopped on the spot, spluttering "I… I…" It may have been an aftereffect of his terror, but he was filled by a sudden fury that needed release. It found a target in the diminutive girl before him.
He wrenched up his scope and tried to focus on her face, his hands shaking. "Why'd you let us get into that back there? You nearly got us caught!" he fumed at her amber outline. "We should never have gotten cornered like that… not with all those Styx so close. We could have both been killed by that stalker. I thought you were good." He became so choked with rage that he could hardly speak anymore. "I thought you knew what you're doing. You…"
She stood quite still, unperturbed by his outburst. "I do know what I'm doing. That was unforeseen. If I'd been with Drake, we'd have dealt with the Styx and stashed their bodies under a rockfall."
"But Drake's not here!" he snapped back at her. "I am!"
"We take risks every day," she said. "If you don't, you might as well crawl away somewhere and die," she added coolly and began to walk off, but then paused, swinging her head around to face him. "And if you ever talk to me like that again, I'll ditch you. Despite what Drake thinks, we don't need you that badly, but you bet your life you need us. Got that?"
Will's anger rapidly deserted him and he was left floundering, already regretting his words. Elliott didn't move, waiting for his response.
"Um… yes… sorry," Will mumbled. He felt deflated, struck by the realization of just how totally dependent he and the other boys were on Drake and Elliott. It was painfully obvious they wouldn't have lasted very long in this wild and lawless land if someone hadn't come to their rescue. He, Chester, and particularly Cal were living on the hard-won skills of others and should have been grateful for that.
Elliott turned and Will got in line behind her as they continued down the tunnel.
"Sorry," he said again into the darkness, but the girl didn't acknowledge him.
An hour later, after taking a confusing warren of interlinking galleries, Elliott stopped and seemed to be searching for something by the base of the wall. There was rubble strewn over the ground, interspersed with large shieldlike plates of rock that she used as stepping stones. Then she stopped.
"Help me with this," she said tartly and began to lift one of the slabs. Will took the other side and together, straining with its weight, they pulled it aside to reveal a small hole in the floor.
"Stay right behind me — there's caves of Red Hots nearby," she advised him.
Recalling that Tam had once mentioned that Red Hots were dangerous, Will didn't think it was an appropriate moment to ask her what they were. In any case, Elliott immediately got down and began to crawl into the hole, and Will followed obediently, wondering where it would take them. Although he couldn't see a thing, he used his hands to feel around and found the tunnel to be roughly oval in shape, and nearly three feet from side to side. He followed the sound of Elliott in front of him, but in places the accumulated gravel and stone chips on the floor made it difficult for him to get through and he had to worm himself along, kicking the shale behind him as he went.
The passage climbed steeply, and Elliott's movements ahead brought down slews of gravel over him. Not daring to complain, he stopped several times to brush the dust and grit from his face.
Then there was no sound from Elliott. Will was at the point of calling out to her when he heard the reverberations of her movements in a larger space. He climbed up a final, almost vertical section of the passage and, using his scope, saw they were in a gallery some ten by fifty yards. Elliott was already lying next to a fissure in the floor. He brushed himself down and then began to cough from all the dust he'd inhaled.