"What's up with him?" Chester said quietly, wiping the perspiration from his brow.
"Dunno," Will replied, taking a large swig from the canteen.
Just then, Cal's voice became louder and they could hear snatches of his ranting: "… and the hidden shall not be hidden in the eyes of the…"
"Do you think he's all right?" Chester asked Will, who had settled back against the rucksack and closed his eyes with a long exhalation.
"…and it is we who shall be saved… saved… saved…" Cal was babbling.
Will opened one eye and called crankily to his brother.
"What'd ya say, Cal? Can't hear you, bro."
"Didn't say anything," Cal replied defensively, sitting bolt upright with a startled expression.
"Cal, what happened?" Chester asked the boy hesitantly. "What happened to Drake?"
Cal crawled toward them and launched into a rambling account, backtracking as he recalled another detail and every so often stopping completely, in mid-sentence, to draw a quick breath before he went on. Then he told them about the white room with the sealed cells that he and Elliott had stumbled upon in the Bunker.
"But this renegade — the one who was alive — what was wrong with him?" Will asked.
"His eyes were all puffy and his face was covered in boils," Cal said. "He had some sort of disease."
Will looked thoughtful. "So is that it?" he said.
"What do you mean?" Chester butted in.
"Drake knew the Styx were testing out something down here. Maybe it's a disease."
With a small shrug, Cal continued, recounting how he and Elliott had escaped to the lava tubes. His voice broke.
"Drake could have run, but he didn't, so that Elliott and I had a chance… It was like… like when Uncle Tam made a stand…"
"He may not be dead." Elliott's voice came, silencing Cal. It was suffused with a mixture of anger and sorrow.
Stunned by her pronouncement, they all looked at her, standing at the edge of the clearing.
"We were careless and they had us, but the Limiters were shooting to maim, not to kill. If they'd wanted us dead, we would be." She spun around to face Will, her recriminatory glare burning into him. "But why would they want to take us alive? Enlighten me, Will."
All eyes were on him as he shook his head.
"Come on, why would that be?" she insisted in a low growl.
"Rebecca," Will answered quietly.
"Not her again!" Chester exclaimed.
Cal started to gibber another monotonous diatribe, wringing his hands together. They could all hear what he was saying now. "And the Lord shall be the savior to those—"
"Stop that!" Elliott turned on him. "What are you doing? Praying?" She reached out and slapped him hard across the face.
"I… uh… no…" he babbled, his arms up around his head as he cowered, thinking she was going to strike him again.
"Do that and I'll finish you right here. It's all a load of hogwash. I should know, I had years of the Book of Catastrophes rammed down my throat in the Colony." She grabbed him by his hair and shook his head mercilessly. "Get a grip, kid, because this is all you've got."
"I…" Cal began with a half sob.
"No, listen to me, wake up, will you? You've been brainwashed," she said in a low voice, yanking his hair and jerking his head from side to side. "Do you remember a time before you were born?"
"Huh?" Cal sobbed.
"Do you?"
"No," he stuttered uncomprehendingly.
"No! Why is that? Because we are no different from any animal, any insect or germule."
"Elliott, if he wants to believe—" Chester began, unable to remain silent.
"Keep out of it, Chester!" she snapped, not even looking at him. "We are not special, Cal. You, me, we all came from nothing, and that's exactly where we're all going one day, maybe soon, whether we like it or not." She snorted contemptuously and shoved him over onto his side. "Can't you see it's a cult? Your Book of Catastrophes is for the birds!"
In the blink of an eye she was in front of Will. He girded himself, thinking he was next in line for the abuse. But she stood silently before him, her arms crossed belligerently over her long rifle. Rebecca had stood before him in this very way so many times back in Highfield, telling him off for tramping mud onto the carpet or some similar petty misdemeanor.
"You're coming with me," Elliott barked.
"What? Where?"
"You got us into this, so you can help get us out," she snapped.
"Help how?"
"We're going back to the base."
Frowning at her, Will couldn't take in what she was saying.
"You and I are going back to the base," she said again, enunciating each word clearly. "Understand? To get equipment and supplies."
"But I can't go all the way back there! I just can't," he pleaded. "I'm wrecked… I need some rest… some food…"
"Tough."
"Why don't we just go on to the next base? Drake told me…"
She shook her head. "Too far."
"I—"
"Get up." She thrust the spare riflescope at him and he slowly rose to his feet. With a helpless glance at Chester, he left the clearing and followed her through the dense foliage back to the causeway.
It was as though he were in the throes of some awful nightmare in reverse, repeating the near-death journey he'd just completed. At least he knew what to expect this time.
Will wasn't really thinking by the end of his second causeway crossing. He followed Elliott mechanically, plodding over the stretch of sand until they came to the edge of the jungle.
"Stop here," she ordered and, under the glow of her lantern, began kicking around, searching for something in the discolored sand packed at the gnarled roots of the succulents.
"Where is it?" she said to herself, moving farther into the undergrowth. "Aha!" she exclaimed, diving down. She unsheathed her knife and used it to trim off the gray foliage of a small rosette-shaped plant, until all that was left was its ragged heart. She continued to cut away at this, reducing it to what looked like some sort of nut. She carefully peeled that, shedding chunks of its woody coat. Then she began to work on the kernel, which was about the size of an almond, slicing it into strips. She sniffed at it before holding her palm out to Will.
"Chew on it," she said, and then sucked a strand herself off the knife blade. "Don't swallow. Just chew slowly."
He nodded dubiously, grinding the fibrous strips between his incisors. They released a sharp sourness that made him stick out his tongue.
She watched, pushing another strand into her mouth with a grimy finger.
"Tastes disgusting," he said.
"Give it a moment — it'll help."
She was right. As he chewed, a coldness spread through his body. It was a pleasurable sensation in the midst of the unremitting heat and humidity, and with it came a surge of energy that blew away the leadenness from his limbs. He felt renewed, strong… he felt ready for anything.
"What is this?" he asked, straightening his shoulders, his inquisitiveness returning with a vengeance. "Caffeine?" The only sensation he could compare it with was when his sister had made coffee back home and he'd tried a cup. "Caffeine?" he repeated, his voice jittery.
"Something like that," Elliott replied with a careless smile. "Come on, let's go."
He now found he could easily keep pace with Elliott as they steamed ahead. Moving with the fleetness of two cats, they traversed the sandy foreshore and then climbed the shingle incline that would take them to the wall of the cavern and the lava tubes.
Will lost all track of time. They reached the base in what seemed like a matter of minutes, although he knew it must have taken considerably longer. It was as if he'd been outside his own body, an onlooker watching someone else sweat and heave for breath at the exertion of traveling so phenomenally fast.