The Boy in the Tunnel

Fall 1997, Chapter 27: Chet

"Yes. Andrew Duncan Boyd, Wintertree 79A. Have you not met this person?"

Every fall, one of the freshmen in 79 or 79A was chosen to be Abducted into the Nine Dead Men. Chet was that freshman last year. The process was opaque to him, a real chicken/egg situation. Did he get Abducted because he lived in 79, or did the Nine pull strings to place him in 79?

"I don't know who Andrew Boyd is. The freshmen in 79A are Tim and... I want to say Neal?"

Avery's face twisted into a grotesque mask. For a moment Chet thought that "Avery" had disappeared, replaced by a monstrous parody of human features, until he realized that Avery was just confused. He'd never seen Avery confused by anything. Avery looked at the notebook again, then back at Chet. "I don't understand," he said.

"I don't know what to tell you. Tim's in 79A. And Neal, I think."

"Did you say Tim?" Alex half-stood out of his seat. Alex, the alleged musician. He looked like he hadn't slept in a week.

"Yeah."

"Kind of like a... like a real average dude? Like you kind of forget what he looks like, even if you're looking right at him?"

A harsh assessment of Tim. But accurate. "Yeah, kind of."

"Dude, I think I know that kid. He's living in the mystery room?"

Avery seized on this new information. His expression reverted back to its usual placid confidence. "Viscount, do you think this Tim is a potential candidate?"

"I mean, I don't know about that."

"Find out." This was the Avery that Chet was used to. Taking control. Giving orders. "Quartermaster. Track down this Andrew Boyd."

That's impossible because he doesn't exist. The thought came and went in less than a second, but it was enough to give his words an air of tentativeness. "Yes, Secretary."

Avery pinned him down with those eyes as gray as his hair – with a look that was so much like his father's. Like any father's. "You hesitate, Quartermaster?"

"No, sir."

"Is the request not reasonable?"

Avery and Milo both awaited Chet's answer. He hesitated again. "It is reasonable, Secretary."

Avery took three quick steps across the hardwood floor – three sharp rifle cracks under the heels of his Chelsea boots. His face hovered less than an inch from Chet's. "Quartermaster. Do you choose to be dead?"

"I do." The answer came without thought, a reflex. A line in a script.

"And why do you choose?"

"Because to live is not a choice."

Avery didn't move. He kept his body parked in Chet's personal space, silently daring him to move, studying him for signs of less than total commitment. But Chet studied Avery's face as well. Up close, he was so much younger than he seemed.

"Good," Avery said, finally. Out of the corner of his eye, Chet saw Taylor watching him, smiling his mocking smile. Chet realized that he wanted to betray him. He just needed to find a reason, besides the obvious.

******

They descended on downtown as a pack, with a pack's hunger. They were not alone. The entire great mass of youth that was the University of Northwest Georgia swarmed downtown, spilling into the streets with joyful disdain for the hapless, ill-prepared drivers. It was the first real Friday night of the semester, and there were memories to be made, even if they were forgotten by Saturday morning.