He was still trying to make a tunnel. I’d gone back to look at his progress, and there wasn’t any to speak of. He’d managed to chip away at the wall, but there was nothing more than a small circle of chipped concrete. At this rate, it was going to take years for him to have anything resembling a tunnel. “Why are you doing that?” I demanded. “Trying to keep busy,” he said. “They have Griffin.” “They had him before.” “French has Griffin, and we don’t know what she wants.” Silas used the spoon to dig at the wall. “I know that.” “But you’re just sitting in here, doing this stupid thing that isn’t going to help us at all, and I don’t even know what’s she’s doing to Griffin.” Silas set down his spoon. “Don’t yell at me, Leigh. I know you’re tense, but don’t take it out on me.” “It’s just this tunnel—” “Stop it,” he said. “I have to try something. I can’t sit out there doing nothing. At least you have him here, you know? I don’t know where Christa is.
