The Ruins of the Lost World

by C K Burch

  Jack shuffled her way through the snowbank, dragging long trails as she moved, until she lifted herself up onto the summit of the steps, and faced the wall of fir and pine blocking off the world. Behind and around, there was a clear view of the rest of the Dhauladhar Mountains, crisp and bright in the sunrise. Groundswell lifted and swirled through the silence of the forest, inviting a peaceful, welcoming atmosphere. The sight itself was brilliant enough to warrant the trip alone, but there was still the matter of the gateway. And Jack was shaking her head.

  “What is it?” Dust asked.

  “I expected a wall of some sort,” she replied, looking around. “A cliffside, something vertical that could be walked inside of, driven inside of. This is, well, this is distressing.”

  “Distressing?” Ryder chuckled and waved his arms about. “This isn't bloody distressing at all! Look at all the trees! The snow! The complete lack of bloody goddamn dinosaurs!”

  “Will you quit moaning and groaning?” Dust snarled. “Have some goddamn patience.”

  “You'll be a patient in about ten seconds.” Ryder tried to walk with intimidation towards Dust, but succeeded in nearly tripping in the snow. Clearly he was unaccustomed to it, which made Dust chuckle, which made Ryder even angrier.

  “Both of you,” Jack seethed, “shut the hell up.”

  She stared ahead intently, at the slope of the steps descending.

  “No,” she whispered. “It can't be that easy. Can it?”

  “What is it?” Dust asked.

  Jack did not reply. Instead she looked up at the Venture hovering overhead, and grinned. “I need to go back up. Give me a boost to the ladder!”

  “What?” Ryder sighed. “Down, up, make up your bloody mind.”

  Dust ignored Ryder, and instead gave Jack a boost by lifting her up by her hips. She quickly ascended the ladder, causing it to shudder and shake in her excitement. Finally, at the bow once more, Jack leaned over the railing and waved at Dust and Ryder.

  “Move!” she shouted.

  They looked around. Where to? There were trees on all sides.

  “Just – bloody move!” she shouted again.

  Dust and Ryder shrugged, then backed up to the edge of the steps. Curiouser and curiouser.

  Then Jack leaned as far as she dared over the rail, and held the keystone high over her head.

  Sunlight beamed through the keystone, and became impossibly magnified: it shone down upon the steps like a beacon, coating the snow and the rock in a cobalt blue glow. Jack carefully twisted the keystone in her fingertips, holding it as high as she could, and Dust watched the ground as the shadow of the image within the jewel took shape on the white. He imagined that if he was beside Jack, he would be able to see the edges of the archway taking form, and he grinned wildly. The lady certainly had the mind for this sort of escapade.

  Something below their feet began to tremble.

  “The devil is this nonsense?” Ryder muttered.

  As if by magic, the trembling turned from a low rumble to a literal earthquake: Dust and Ryder were thrown to the ground as the steps shook and began to slide into the mountain itself. One by one, the rocks moved of their own accord by some unseen gears, shaking powder into the air and causing the trees to shake wildly. Dust got to his hands and knees and brought himself closer to the spectacle, watching as the gateway opened, revealing a wide path that led into the mountain itself. Incredibly, it was a paved road that tunneled below Kalatop, and as the steps came to a shuddered halt, he saw that the symbols for Shiva, Brahma, and Vishnu had been carved into the stones of the road itself, tile by exquisitely etched tile. It was absolutely magnificent, and Dust could not help but let loose a whoop of relief and awe.

  Ryder crawled up beside him and looked down with a smile on his face. “Bloody oath! Would you look at that!”

  “Looks like we'll be driving after all!” Dust crowed.

  “Strewth, we will!” Ryder laughed hard, and then looked back up at the Venture. “Ready the vehicles, men! We've a drop to make!”

  Dust frowned. “A drop?”

  ***

  Back onboard the Venture and in the cargo hold, Dust discovered what Ryder had meant, and he liked it. Oh, he did not want to like it and give Ryder the credit due, but his spirit tingled with excitement at the prospect.

  After twenty minutes of modifications, Ryder's men had securely fastened four rather large parachutes to each vehicle, one over each wheelwell. This, Ryder explained, would make it so that all they had to do was drive out of the airship, fall towards the gate, pull the chutes, and the vehicles would happily drift down towards the ground like leaves on the wind.

  “We've done it a hundred times before,” Ryder assured them.

  Thomas, uneasy, gave a good show of appearing to at least be entertained by the idea. “Quite right, jolly good that, old boy.” His pallor was a sickening green, however, and his strained smile made him appear as though he were a constipated frog.

  “It'll do well enough,” Dust mused, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared at the oversized chutes bolted in place on the jeep before him. He meant to be polite at least, possibly outwardly showing some defiance, as the Venture crew clearly moved with efficiency and reflex of having performed this operation before. But internally he was ecstatic. The drop. Lurching downward without control. In a jeep. Positively genius method of getting down to earth quickly and going mobile fast. Damned foolish if it were something radical for the first time, but the crew's skill in the setup was evident.

  Jack, to Thomas's chagrin, was grinning with delight from ear-to-ear.

  “Marvelous!” she exclaimed. She knelt down and examined one of the chutes. “Absolutely marvelous! And they work how?”

  Ryder leaned in and pointed at a lever on the driver's side of the jeep. “Here. Once we're down to a decent height, accounting for wind and all, all the driver has to do is pull this, and fwoosh! Chutes deployed. Easier than chasing down roos back home, mum.”

  “Marvelous,” Jack whispered again. “When do we go?”

  “My boys are checking for wind now, and as soon's they've got us an idea for drift, we'll drop.”

  “Hooray,” Dust deadpanned.

  “Oh, come on, mate.” Ryder elbowed Dust in the ribs, clearly enjoying himself. “I expected such a reaction from the bogan, but you're a man of action.”

  Thomas frowned. “Bogan? The devil is that?”

  “A man of very high regard,” Ryder lied.

  Thomas smiled. He was still green, but at least his ego was stroked.

  Dust sighed. “Alright, I admit: I'm going to enjoy the hell out of this, aren't I?”

  “First drop's always the worst.” Ryder thought for a moment. “Actually, second one is, because then you know what it's like and you dread it a little more. First one's just plain terrifying.”

  “Exactly what I was hoping,” Dust grinned.

  Half an hour later, all preparations were set.

  “Four to a jeep, six to the truck,” Ryder shouted, fixing the holster on his belt. He checked his gun: a Tokarev TT-33, a Russian pistol with 7.62mm cartridges. Dust nodded approvingly. Very few Russian weapons to be seen amongst treasure hunters, but Ryder at least knew quality when he saw it. This, Dust noted, was another in a line of notions that he found himself admiring about Lincoln Ryder. One could at least appreciate one's enemy, recognizing with respect.

  Once Ryder finished adjusting his weapon, he winked at Dust. “Have yourself a jeep. We'll see you down below.”

  “Absolutely not,” Dust countered. He was ready for the drop itself, but he still didn't trust the man to not sabotage a jeep if Dust himself was behind the wheel. “Your men are trained for this. I'll ride with one of them.”

  “It's not mechanical science, McAlan. All you've to do is pull the lever when I let you know when. We've already calculated the wind shear and the drift. Once you land, you depress the button on top of the lever – that'll detach the chutes from the jeep, so you can
drive forward immediately. Since we're dropping into a tunnel, it'll be paramount that we keep moving in a line so's all us can land safe.”

  Dust nodded. Probably just fine. Probably a lot of fun. But. Trust issues.

  “It's easy,” Ryder stressed. “All there's to do is just drive and fall.”

  “I'd feel better with one of your men behind the wheel.”

  “Come on, then, mate, where's your spirit of adventure?”

  “Not operating mechanical devices which could lead to my inevitable demise.”

  “They're safe. Quit being a wanker.”

  “But I've never operated the goddamn thing before, so if you could just – ”

  “Gentlemen.” Jack interrupted their argument softly. She turned to Dust. “I'm sure it will be fine. I'll ride with you.”

  “So will I!” Cairn practically leapt up and down with good fortune at the notion, to which Dust wouldn't dare turn the lad away from.

  Arguments spun in his mind, but Dust quietly tucked them away and nodded instead. “As you wish, Lady Blythe-Wight.”

  Jack stuck her tongue out playfully. “Mind your manners, Mister McAlan.”

  Dust frowned, and scanned the cargo hold for Thomas. When he spotted His Lordship, Dust noted that Thomas was beginning to seat himself comfortably in the same jeep that Ryder was walking towards. Dust cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted, “Thomas!”

  Thomas sat up straight, searching for whoever dared to address him by name.

  Dust waved him over.

  Thomas understood. He looked at Ryder, then at Dust. “You know old man, I think I ought to, um, you know, go with the help, you know, keep an eye on the proceedings, eh?”

  Dust shook his head and waved him over again. “Four to a jeep. And we're one shy.”

  Thomas began to argue, and looked at Ryder again.

  “Don't look at me,” Ryder said mockingly. “I'm just the help.”

  Thomas grimaced, and dismounted the jeep.

  Dust grinned. If this was the way of things, then Lord Thomas would be along for the ride. And without Ryder protesting at whom the bankroll was riding with, Dust felt slightly more confident that his parachutes would operate exactly how they should.

  Thomas grumbled and mumbled his way over to their jeep, and he made quite a stir of loud noises as he stomped his feet into the backseat. Cairn, excited and eager for the adventure to begin, was bouncing about in his seat, taking note of how the Venture crew were rigging the vehicles for drop, asking Dust questions about his weapons, asking Jack if she had any idea which dinosaurs would be down in Shambhala. Dust smiled at the lad, and turned a cautious glance over to Thomas to allow him to know that Cairn's excitement should remain unabated. A very grumpy Thomas retrieved his flask with sarcastic delight, and took a long draw from it.

  “Harnesses, all!” Ryder commanded. Everyone did as they were told: simple, tight straps with buckles were connected to the seats in the vehicles, which came over the shoulders and across the chest. Dust had little difficulty locking his in place, as he'd had some experience with parachutes previously – an experience which he still regretted. Cairn took some instruction as to how he should tighten his straps properly, while Jack seemed to slip into hers with ease. Perhaps she'd had some experience with chutes as well. Thomas, well, Dust didn't give one fig about whether or not Thomas was properly harnessed into his seat.

  “Alright, flaggers in place!” Ryder shouted.

  Two men ran over to the ramp, holding unlit flares in their hands. They stood on either side of the bay door, ready to signal the vehicles onward. All the jeeps and the truck revved up as the drivers started their engines. Dust felt his heart begin to race as he gripped the steering wheel. He was actually going to drive into thin air. First time for everything.

  “McAlan!” Ryder gave the signal. “I'll go first, then you follow! Watch for when I pull the lever, count three, then you follow suite! Then watch for when I drop the chutes for the drive! You understand?”

  Dust flashed a thumbs up.

  Ryder stuck his arm in the air and circled it thrice. A siren blared the announcement that the bay doors were opening, and immediately after the ramp began to lower. Frigid air from the outside swept in, frosty and violently loud, and the bright day made everyone blink against it. Dust raised one hand to his line of sight so he might keep at least one eye on Ryder. Knowing that bastard, he'd probably rush forward without any warning, and Dust was ready to have none of that.

  Once the bay door was open fully, Ryder stuck his hand in the air again, holding up three fingers. He lowered them all one at a time, until all that remained was his fist. He brought his fist down and gunned the engine of his jeep. Both flaggers lit their flares as he did, pointing them towards the open bay. Ryder flew into the air and vanished as he dropped.

  Dust watched the flaggers as they held up their flares, signaling to pause.

  Then they dropped them.

  He pressed down on the accelerator, spinning the tires on the steel floor, and lurched forward with practiced ease. Dust knew a thing or two of sudden starts, so he twisted the wheel with the give of the lurch, maintaining a straight course, driving straight towards the opening. A wave of adrenaline hit him as instinct reminded that he was driving headlong over the edge of a drop, and instead of clamping down on the brake Dust tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He didn't dare look at the others in the vehicle to see how they were prepared; his mind was on the drop.

  They came to the edge and flew into space.

  He hadn't been prepared for how bloody high they were: the Venture had pulled upwards further than Ryder had explained, and so what Dust had imagined to be a hundred foot drop was closer to two hundred. His eyes bugged as he saw the gateway tunnel ahead and below them, the size of a quarter from this height and distance, and he laughed. This was even better than Ryder had made it out to be.

  “Oh, shit!” Jack shouted, staring ahead. Her hands went to her harness and clutched tightly.

  Fifty feet below them, Ryder's jeep was still falling, no chute. Dust watched them impatiently, waiting for the tell, his fingers itching to wrap around the chute lever to slow their descent. Not yet, he told himself, not yet, stay the course, stay steady –

  Ryder's chutes opened; four cream-white blossoms of silk opened above the jeep and halted the descent rapidly.

  Dust reached down carefully – he was mindful of that damned button on the top of the lever – and counted to three.

  He pulled back and for a brief moment expected that Ryder had given him empty packs. But, majestically, the packages on all four corners of the jeep opened like white roses, flowing into the sky and catching the air. Dust's harness bit into his chest as the jeep came to a forceful halt mid-air, and the sensation of falling was replaced with floating. He rolled his shoulders gently, working out the soreness, and turned to look at the others. Jack had a nervous, wild grin on her face; Cairn had turned white and was holding tightly to his harness; and Thomas was out cold. Good lord, was he still alive? Worry crossed Dust's features, which Jack noticed.

  “Don't worry!” Jack shouted. “He's just asleep!”

  “Asleep?” Dust replied. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive!”

  As if to confirm this, Thomas gave a loud snore.

  Jesus Christ, Dust thought, and turned his attention to the ground coming up towards them. He readied his thumb over the lever's button, anxious, waiting for that one last bit of trepidation and drop before they entered the tunnel. Impatience nipped at him.

  Below them, Ryder's jeep came within ten feet of the tunnel opening, and then as if by magic the chutes connected to the vehicle flew off to the sides; puffs of white smoke indicated explosive bolts. Clever. Dust watched tensely as they floated closer and closer to the opening of the tunnel, his foot hovering over the accelerator, and when it seemed as though they'd come within ten feet of the tunnel, he depressed the button on the lever. The jeep shook rapidly as four hearty q
uakes rocked the vehicle and the chutes flew outward to either side. Now they fell unabated, and as the wheels touched down with a tremendous crunch, Dust hit the gas and they were speeding ahead into the darkness of the tunnel.

  Dust flipped on the jeep's headlights. Before them, he saw the outline of Ryder's jeep pull forward at a brisk pace. Behind them, Dust heard the sound of the third jeep hitting the ground with a tumultuous bang. In the rearview mirror, he confirmed the landing of the third jeep, and briefly saw the outline of the truck behind it, floating down into position. He grinned. Ryder might be full of his own brew, but damned if he wasn't a clever little shit.

  Above and before them, the tunnel was little more than a yawning cavern, burrowed through the earth with little regard to decor. Aside from the tiled road – an interesting facet in itself – there was nothing in the tunnel to indicate that this was anything other than a passageway neatly made by nature. Dust frowned. Most cultures at least left some sort of indication of aesthetics, whether in be in artworks, architecture, or awful traps. This was simply blase. As far as introductions went, it was a bit of a disappointment. Jack, however, was alight with anticipatory glee, looking around at the natural rock formations as though they were the dinosaurs she'd come all this way to discover.

  Up ahead, Ryder's jeep faltered. The lights on the vehicle flickered momentarily and the engine cut out, but then quickly came back to life and the jeep began rolling forward again with life.

  Dust frowned.

  Then they passed by the same spot, and Dust felt a very strange sensation. It was as if someone had stepped on his grave, or something to some similar conceit, as all the hair on his body stood on end. Waves of static electricity assaulted him, and gauging by the reactions of the rest in the jeep, it was a universal feeling. The engine stuttered and died; the lights flickered as the battery fought against whatever mysterious force this was. But the wheels continued to roll forward, and after a moment of puzzling quiet, the engine returned to life with a start and Dust was able to drive them along.

  Seven hells. That was interesting.

  Jack turned back in her seat, and Dust looked in the rearview to see that the jeep behind them suffered a similar outcome.