Read Online Tunnels 05 - Spiral by Roderick Gordon - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Roderick Gordon
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corpses to the m —”
“No inquiry,” the Limiter said in a voice like distant thunder, gripping his long rifle as if he were considering using it again, but this time on the Second Officer. “And you leave the corpses where they are. As an example to the rest.” In the blink of an eye he’d gone, slipping back into the shadows.
“No inquiry,” the Second Officer muttered. So now the Styx were summarily dishing out the death penalty without any form of judicial process. He and the Third Officer exchanged glances but said nothing to each other, because it wasn’t their place to question the Styx.
“Appalling,” the Second Officer sighed, as he stepped slowly between the bodies in their attitudes of death. Children would wake the next morning to see them covered in slugs — that’s if any stray Hunters hadn’t chewed pieces off them during the night.
The Second Officer sent the Third Officer home to recover, then spent several hours doing the rounds between the huts. Everyone was keeping well out of sight after the incident, but from behind closed doors he caught sounds of women crying, and also the rumble of angry, dissenting voices. In a couple of the huts where the doors had been left open, eyes flashed resentfully at him as the red bowls of pipes glowed.
The Second Officer was finally relieved by one of his colleagues and, his feet aching from all the patrolling, returned home. Letting himself quietly in lest he wake anyone at that late hour, he heard sounds coming from the kitchen.
“Hello, Mother!” he said as he entered the steamy room, surprised to see her up.
The old lady started, spinning around from the stove. “Oh, ’ello, son,” she said. “You must be all done in. Go and put yer feet up by the fire. Me and Eliza ’ad our dinnah, but I’ve kept yours nice ’n’ piping. You can ’ave it on your knees.”
In the sitting room, the Second Officer lowered himself gratefully into his armchair. He glanced wearily across at Will’s spade, left in a prominent position on top of the sideboard. After they’d discovered it in the room, his mother and sister had intentionally left it on show as a reminder, almost a warning to him, following the episode with Mrs. Burrows. But it had quite the opposite effect — he was comforted to see it there. It reminded him of Celia.
“ ’Ere you are, love,” his mother said, plonking the tray, with a massive bowl on it, in the Second Officer’s lap. He was ravenous, and eagerly snatched up the spoon and began to shovel the food down with much slurping — the usual abysmal table manners found throughout the Colony.
His mother was gabbling away ten to the dozen as he ate. “I couldn’t believe it when the Styx pitched up at number twenty-three and moved the Smiths out, there ’n’ then. It was a sorry sight. Mrs. S had her dresses under ’er arm — some of the ones I stitched for ’er, too. ’Er daughter made a right spectickle of ’erself. She was ’owling and giving it the full waterworks and all that — you should ’ave ’eard ’er. But Mr. S just went where they led him, his ’ead down, like ’e was going to the gallows. It was ’eartrending to watch. Bet it was ’orrible, too, in the North.” She raised a hand up as if she couldn’t bear to hear anything about it, then waited expectantly for her son to tell her.
When he didn’t, she went on. “You know I wouldn’t blame you if you ’
ad
gone above grass with that Topsoiler woman. They don’t give a tinker’s about us these days, the Styx. This isn’t somewhere for a young person to be, though you and Eliza are ’ardly spring chickens no more.”
The Second Officer stopped chewing, his spoon poised in front of his mouth. This was not the way the old lady ever spoke about the Colony or the Styx. One of the most respectful members of their society, she would never normally hear a bad word said about anyone in authority.
“Mother!” the Second Officer exclaimed.
“No inquiry,” the Limiter said in a voice like distant thunder, gripping his long rifle as if he were considering using it again, but this time on the Second Officer. “And you leave the corpses where they are. As an example to the rest.” In the blink of an eye he’d gone, slipping back into the shadows.
“No inquiry,” the Second Officer muttered. So now the Styx were summarily dishing out the death penalty without any form of judicial process. He and the Third Officer exchanged glances but said nothing to each other, because it wasn’t their place to question the Styx.
“Appalling,” the Second Officer sighed, as he stepped slowly between the bodies in their attitudes of death. Children would wake the next morning to see them covered in slugs — that’s if any stray Hunters hadn’t chewed pieces off them during the night.
The Second Officer sent the Third Officer home to recover, then spent several hours doing the rounds between the huts. Everyone was keeping well out of sight after the incident, but from behind closed doors he caught sounds of women crying, and also the rumble of angry, dissenting voices. In a couple of the huts where the doors had been left open, eyes flashed resentfully at him as the red bowls of pipes glowed.
The Second Officer was finally relieved by one of his colleagues and, his feet aching from all the patrolling, returned home. Letting himself quietly in lest he wake anyone at that late hour, he heard sounds coming from the kitchen.
“Hello, Mother!” he said as he entered the steamy room, surprised to see her up.
The old lady started, spinning around from the stove. “Oh, ’ello, son,” she said. “You must be all done in. Go and put yer feet up by the fire. Me and Eliza ’ad our dinnah, but I’ve kept yours nice ’n’ piping. You can ’ave it on your knees.”
In the sitting room, the Second Officer lowered himself gratefully into his armchair. He glanced wearily across at Will’s spade, left in a prominent position on top of the sideboard. After they’d discovered it in the room, his mother and sister had intentionally left it on show as a reminder, almost a warning to him, following the episode with Mrs. Burrows. But it had quite the opposite effect — he was comforted to see it there. It reminded him of Celia.
“ ’Ere you are, love,” his mother said, plonking the tray, with a massive bowl on it, in the Second Officer’s lap. He was ravenous, and eagerly snatched up the spoon and began to shovel the food down with much slurping — the usual abysmal table manners found throughout the Colony.
His mother was gabbling away ten to the dozen as he ate. “I couldn’t believe it when the Styx pitched up at number twenty-three and moved the Smiths out, there ’n’ then. It was a sorry sight. Mrs. S had her dresses under ’er arm — some of the ones I stitched for ’er, too. ’Er daughter made a right spectickle of ’erself. She was ’owling and giving it the full waterworks and all that — you should ’ave ’eard ’er. But Mr. S just went where they led him, his ’ead down, like ’e was going to the gallows. It was ’eartrending to watch. Bet it was ’orrible, too, in the North.” She raised a hand up as if she couldn’t bear to hear anything about it, then waited expectantly for her son to tell her.
When he didn’t, she went on. “You know I wouldn’t blame you if you ’
ad
gone above grass with that Topsoiler woman. They don’t give a tinker’s about us these days, the Styx. This isn’t somewhere for a young person to be, though you and Eliza are ’ardly spring chickens no more.”
The Second Officer stopped chewing, his spoon poised in front of his mouth. This was not the way the old lady ever spoke about the Colony or the Styx. One of the most respectful members of their society, she would never normally hear a bad word said about anyone in authority.
“Mother!” the Second Officer exclaimed.
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