Read Tunnels 01, Tunnels for Free Online

house.
    "Hi, Dad," he said to his father, who was now poised awkwardly just inside the living room, still holding his open briefcase in one hand as he watched something on television.
    Dr. Burrows was unarguably the biggest influence in his son's life. A casual comment or snippet of information from his father could inspire Will to embark on the wildest and most extreme "investigations," usually involving ludicrous amounts of digging. Dr. Burrows always managed to be "in at the kill" on any of his son's digs if he suspected there was going to be something of true archaeological value unearthed, but most of the time he preferred to bury his nose in the books he kept down in the cellar, his cellar. Here he could escape family life, losing himself in dreams of echoing Greek temples and magnificent Roman colosseums.
    "Oh, yes, hello, Will," he answered absentmindedly after a long pause, still absorbed in the television. Will looked past his father to where his mother was sitting, equally mesmerized by the program.
    "Hi, Mum," Will said and then left, not waiting for a response.
    Mrs. Burrows's eyes were glued to an unexpected and rather fraught turn of events in the ER . "Hello," she eventually replied, although Will had already left the room.
    Will's parents had first met at college when Mrs. Burrows had been a bubbly media student dead set on a career in television.
    Unfortunately, these days television filled her life for a completely different reason. She watched it with an almost fanatical devotion, juggling schedules with a pair of VCRs when her favorite programs, of which there were so very many, clashed.
    If one has a mental snapshot of a person, an image that is first recalled when one thinks of them, then Mrs. Burrows's would be of her lying sideways in her favorite armchair, a row of remotes neatly lined up on the arm and her feet resting on a footstool topped with television pages ripped from the newspapers. There she sat, day after day, week after week, the flickering light of the small screen, occasionally twitching a leg just to let people know she was still alive.
    As he did every night, Will had beaten a path to the kitchen or, more specifically, the fridge. He was opening the door as he spoke, but didn't so much as glance at the other person in the room as he acknowledged her presence.
    "Hi, sis," Will said. "What are we having for dinner?" I'm starved."
    "Ah, the mud creature returns," Rebecca said to him. "I had the funniest feeling you'd show up about now." She rammed the fridge door shut to stop her brother from nosing inside and before he had a chance to complain, thrust an empty packet into his hands. "Sweet-and-sour chicken, with rice and some vegetable stuff. It was on sale, two for one, at the supermarket."
    Will looked at the picture on the packet and, without comment, passed it back to her.
    "So how's the latest dig going?" she asked, just as the microwave have a ting .
    "Not great -- we've hit a layer of sandstone."
    "We?" Rebecca shot him a quizzical glance as she took a dish out of the microwave. "I'm sure you just said we , Will. You don't mean Dad's working on it with you, do you? Not during museum hours?"
    "No, Chester from school is giving me a hand."
    Rebecca had just placed a second dish in the microwave and very nearly trapped her fingers in the door as she was closing it. "You mean you actually asked somebody to help you? Well, that's a first. Thought you didn't trust anybody with your 'projects.'"
    "No, I don't usually, but Chester's cool," Will replied, a bit taken aback by his sister's interest. "He's been a real help."
    "Can't say I know much about him, except that he's called--"
    "I know what they call him," Will cut her off sharply.
    At twelve, Rebecca was two years younger than Will and couldn't have been more different from him; she was slim and dainty for her age, in contrast to her brother's rather stocky physique. And with her dark hair and sallow complexion, she wasn't bothered