Freefall

by Roderick Gordon

  They all froze as they heard a screeching in the distance — the call of the spider-monkeys.

  “That’s all we need,” Will said, as his eyes met Martha’s.

  “It’s her,” she whispered, pointing at Elliott. “I told you … they can sense weakness. She’s drawing them to us like a magnet.”

  “We’ll just have to use the Aniseed Fire and keep going,” Will said flatly.

  “I want my crossbow back,” Martha demanded abruptly, staring at the weapon and the quill of bolts slung over Chester’s shoulder along with his rifle.

  Getting to his feet, Chester looked at Will for guidance, but he remained silent. He wasn’t in favor of the idea.

  “Um …,” Rebecca said softly, then shut her mouth.

  “You were going to say something,” Will prompted her.

  “Well … it’s just that Martha’s the only one of us who’s familiar with the terrain and the sorts of dangers we could face along the way. She really should be armed, because if you lose her, you lose your guide, and you’ll never find the ship.”

  Will looked undecided.

  “Hey, it’s your show, Will, but that’s how I see it,” Rebecca said almost apologetically.

  “No, good point,” Will conceded. He turned to Martha. “So … do I have your word that we can trust you?”

  Martha nodded grimly.

  “Then you can have your crossbow back,” Will said.

  “Oi! Hold on a sec!” Chester exploded furiously. “You’ll listen to what that bloody Styx has to say, but you don’t want my opinion?” He gave Rebecca a resentful glance.

  “Chester, I’m sorry,” Will said. “Go on … tell me what you think.”

  Chester dithered for a moment. “Yes … she should have it back.”

  Will shrugged one shoulder. “So you’re agreeing with the ‘bloody Styx,’ anyway. So why did you make such a fuss?”

  Chester turned away, mumbling. “I should have my say — that’s all.”

  “First you’re all gung ho for searching around the Pore, then — I’ll be blowed — it’s all changed and we’re following him,” Dr. Burrows said, pointing his thumb at the Limiter up ahead. “Anyway, where the heck does he think he’s going? Aren’t we getting ourselves completely lost?”

  “Not as long as he’s finding the signposts,” Rebecca replied.

  They had just turned into a new stretch of tunnel, and she was scanning the ground for one of these “signposts” she’d referred to.

  She spied the three small pieces of fungus arranged in a line to her right, counted ten paces in her head, then played her light on the other side of the tunnel floor past where Dr. Burrows was walking. There at the base of the opposite wall, and easily missed unless you happened to know the Limiters’ operating procedures, were another three objects — small rocks this time. These markers were the confirmation sequence that the first Limiter had left behind so the one leading them could follow in his tracks.

  Dr. Burrows was, of course, unaware that there was a second Limiter working behind the scenes, and so was thoroughly confused.

  “Signposts? I haven’t seen any signposts,” he said.

  “Trust me,” the Rebecca twin replied.

  Martha made them stop at regular intervals to eat and rest. She built small campfires from material she’d collected along the route, using them to heat up the provisions, and kept them alight as she and the boys took turns sleeping. And she would always sprinkle a few sprigs of Aniseed Fire around the edges of the fire, so it burned slowly and filled the air with its pungent odor.

  On the fourth day, as they were walking, Will noticed how all of a sudden it felt very different underfoot — it wasn’t the crunch of gravel or the springiness of the fungus, but something softer.

  “Mulchy … like old leaves,” he said as he sniffed deeply, trying to identify the different smells. Then he noticed something else — movement on the wall next to him. At first he assumed his eyes were playing tricks because he was so tired. Then he saw that the movements were real and coming from all over — not just the walls, but on the roof and the floor of the tunnel as well.

  “Wait!” he cried, drawing to a halt and forcing Chester to do the same at the other end of Elliott’s stretcher. Squinting, Will saw many white wormlike things on all the surfaces. Then one crossed the ground just in front of his boot. Around four inches long, it was like a thin, perfectly white snake and didn’t appear to have any eyes. With some sort of sucker at each extremity, it moved by turning end over end, as if it was continually performing cartwheels.

  “Yeuch!” Chester exclaimed. “Monster maggots!”

  Bartleby pounced on one, trapping it under his paws. Snapping at the worm, he managed to nip one end between his teeth. Its other end began to spiral around, faster and faster as it tried to extricate itself from this unknown predator. Bartleby’s eyes rolled in their sockets as he tried to follow its helicopter revolutions, and he was soon dizzy with the effort. Then the creature stopped wheeling around and planted the sucker on its free end straight onto Bartleby’s nose. With a shocked squawk, the cat shook his head frantically and released it from his jaws. That was enough for Bartleby — he looked decidedly uneasy as he surveyed the sheer number of cartwheeling worms all around him, and made small leaps to avoid them, as if he was a pony jumping fences.

  Martha heard the commotion and came back to the boys. “Loop Snakes. They won’t hurt you,” she informed them as she began to pluck them from the walls and stuff them into a sack.

  “I’m sorry, Martha, but if the idea is to eat those things, you can count me out. And no way am I sticking around here,” Chester said decisively, shuffling to one side to avoid a snake that was trying to attach its sucker to his toe cap. He made a guttural sound deep in his throat to demonstrate his absolute disgust at the creatures, then set off at a brisk pace, yanking the stretcher and Will along with him. “C’mon, Will, we’re going!”

  Will was reluctant to follow, impeding Chester’s quick getaway as he looked at the ground in fascination.

  “Buck up, Will!” Chester yelled as he pulled at the stretcher. “I’m not in the mood for a nature class!”

  As they left, Will peered behind and saw Rebecca put down her rucksacks. She began to help Martha harvest the Loop Snakes. Then he saw Martha say something to Rebecca, who stepped quickly away from the woman. Rebecca hoisted on her rucksacks again and came running down the tunnel.

  Will didn’t see any more because Chester broke into a jog, forcing him to move at the same speed. And it wasn’t difficult to see why Chester was in such a rush. The number of Loop Snakes had increased until it was as if they were passing through an unbroken carpet of waving white fingers. They were everywhere — some even dropping from the roof above and landing on Elliott and the stretcher. The boys couldn’t avoid crushing them under the soles of their boots. The snakes burst with an off-putting squishing sound, and a luminous fluid squirted from their bodies so that the boys left softly glowing patches in their wake.

  Eventually they came to a stretch of the tunnel that was free of Loop Snakes, and they waited for the others to catch up.

  Rebecca came along first.

  “What happened back there … with Martha?” Will puffed, still out of breath.

  “Nothing,” she mumbled, not looking him in the eye.

  “That’s rubbish,” Will said. “I was watching. I saw her say something to you.”

  “I tried to give her a hand with the Loop Snakes …”

  “Yes … and?” Will urged her.

  “She told me to get lost and that she was going to kill me,” Rebecca said, keeping her voice low.

  “Did she, now,” Will growled. “Don’t worry, Rebecca — she’ll have me to deal with if she tries anything.”

  “Why do you keep calling her that?” Chester piped up. “It’s not her name.”

  “Don’t you start,” Will warned him.

  “No, really, I’d like to know what her name is.
Rebecca was given to her by Topsoilers, so it can’t be her real name. Besides, there can’t be two Rebeccas, can there? So what is your real name?” he demanded of the girl.

  “It wouldn’t mean anything to you,” Rebecca replied. “It’s in my language.”

  “Try me,” Chester insisted.

  Rebecca uttered a short word in the Styx’s nasal tongue, which sounded uncannily like a hyena’s bark.

  “No, you’re right,” Chester said, shaking his head. “Don’t expect me to call you th —”

  He fell silent as Elliott began to writhe against her ties on the stretcher. “I don’t think anyone should speak Styx around Elliott,” Chester observed. “Seems to upset her.”

  By the seventh day of the journey, the boys were feeling the strain of carrying the stretcher, despite the assistance from the reduced gravity. Will had no idea how many miles of tunnel they’d trudged through, or how many vertical descents they’d made, but he hung on to the thought that Martha had said they should reach the ship at some point during the next day. That was, if she could remember the rest of the route correctly.

  They’d backtracked on several occasions when Martha realized she’d taken the wrong turn, but this had cost them a few hours at most. She didn’t use a map or compass (and Will wasn’t sure that one would work down here, in any case), but instead seemed to have all the directions committed to memory.

  The most difficult and perilous moments were when they lowered themselves down huge crevasses, particularly because they had to be so careful with Elliott. But with all four of them on the ropes, they managed to get Elliott and the stretcher down time after time without mishap. And any hostility between Martha and Rebecca was put aside on these occasions, since they each had a part to play.

  At other times they had to worm their way through hundreds of feet of horribly claustrophobic passages, dragging their kit behind them because the ceiling was so low. It took much pushing and pulling to get Elliott through these stretches.

  Then they suddenly came upon an area where the air was so arid that they were all panting and loosening their clothing. As they descended a steep incline, it became unbearably hot. Will was peering at the way ahead when he noticed it seemed to be glowing with a dull redness. It looked ominous, and he wasn’t at all surprised when Martha called a halt.

  “What’s up?” Chester asked.

  Martha didn’t reply, but instead produced two full bladders of water. Then she beckoned Rebecca over.

  “Styx, get some more water out,” she ordered bluntly.

  As Rebecca did what she was told, Martha explained. “Through here the lava flows close to the rock. It’s very hot, and very dangerous.”

  “So what do we do?” Will asked.

  “Can’t we go a different way?” Chester asked at the same time.

  Martha shook her head. “There’s no way around. Just don’t stop for anything — do you understand that? If you do, you’ll die.”

  Chester smiled. “Death by barbecue,” he commented, then stopped smiling because he realized it wasn’t funny at all.

  Martha helped Will wrap some rags over Bartleby’s paws and secure them in place with twine. The cat seemed to enjoy the attention from Will, and was purring away merrily until Martha tipped water all over his legs and his new cloth booties. He growled indignantly at her, and Will had to hold him in place so she could finish the job. Chester had been tasked with sousing both the stretcher and Elliott with water, and was halfway through when he suddenly stopped.

  “Will,” he said.

  “Yeah, what?”

  “You know this is Elliott’s?” He indicated the backpack secured on the stretcher just below the girl’s feet, which he had insisted they bring with them.

  Will’s eyes widened. “Explosives! And there’s ammunition in our rifles! Martha, what if it gets so hot it all goes off?”

  “The rifles should be fine — just make sure that rucksack’s soaked,” she advised, upending the bladder and tipping water all over herself, directing most of it over her legs and feet. Once the boys and Elliott were similarly drenched, Martha called them together again.

  “Remember — whatever happens, don’t stop. Not for anything. Otherwise the heat will get you,” she said.

  Then they were off, dashing down the rest of the incline and into the blistering air. Everything glowed red. Will had a glimpse of the heat haze just before they hit it — it appeared to be almost solid, as if they were about to crash straight into a mirror or some kind of transparent layer of mercury. The boys felt as though flames were licking their faces.

  “It’s like a crucible!” Will croaked, hardly daring to draw breath. It reminded him of the inside of the little ceramic pots they heated up with Bunsen burners in their chemistry classes at school.

  The rock all around them and under their feet seemed to be shot through with veins that glowed a bright orange-red. Will and Chester instinctively tried not to step on the veins as they ran — it was like some nightmarish child’s game of avoiding the cracks in the sidewalk. Will smelled burning, and immediately wondered if the soles of their boots would withstand these temperatures.

  He also felt his clothes drying out, and saw that the same thing was happening to Chester, who was leaving streams of vapor in his wake. Bartleby had stuck dutifully to Will’s side, but as his booties began to sizzle, he decided he wasn’t going to hang around for the humans. He bolted off into the distance like a frightened horse.

  “How much farther?” Chester cried as he and Will puffed away, finding it difficult to keep a grip on the stretcher as their palms became slick with sweat.

  Then they were through to a cooler section of tunnel, where Martha and Bartleby were waiting. They flopped to the ground.

  “Phew!” Will exhaled. “Talk about taking a sauna. Reckon I’ve lost a few pounds.” He took off his rifle and slid the cutlass from his belt. “Why did I bring all this stuff? I’m carrying too much weight,” he panted.

  “Never know when it might come in handy,” Chester commented, then took a large swig from his canteen.

  “You sound exactly like my dad. He never threw anything away — used to drive Rebecca nuts.” Will chuckled as Chester passed him the canteen. He began to drink, but then spewed out a mouthful of water, some of which splashed over his friend. “Wait! Where is Rebecca!” Will spluttered as he realized she hadn’t come through yet. “Wasn’t she right behind us?”

  “I thought so,” Chester confirmed.

  They took a few paces back toward the incline and waited, but still she didn’t appear.

  “Maybe it was too much for her and she did a U-turn,” Chester said.

  Will suddenly upended the canteen over his head.

  “What do you think you’re —?” Chester shouted, but didn’t finish the sentence as Will lobbed the empty canteen over to him. “Will!” Chester screamed as his friend tore back into the heat.

  Will hadn’t gone far when, through the quicksilver air, he made out something huddled in the middle of the tunnel. Small wisps of smoke were rising around it. As he skidded to a halt, he saw Rebecca slumped on top of the rucksacks, which were beginning to smolder. He shook her, yelling her name. She lifted her head weakly and tried to reach for him.

  Sweeping her up, he threw her over his back, then hesitated for an instant. “No! Can’t leave them!” he gasped, barely able to see what he was doing as he tried to grab hold of the rucksacks by the straps. He swore as his hand came into contact with the glowing floor, but still he managed to gather up both packs. Then he ran as quickly as his legs could carry him, moving so fast he was almost flying. The heat was merciless — he was breathing in tiny breaths as the air scorched his lungs.

  Chester had ventured as far forward into the heat as he dared and was waiting for Will. As Will hurtled toward him, he yelled, “To me!” and grabbed the rucksacks from him.

  Reaching Martha, Will quickly put Rebecca down next to Elliott. He seized one of the bladders and poured wat
er over the girl, whose head rolled drunkenly on her shoulders. Then he made her sit up and drink a little of it. In no time at all, the water seemed to revive her, although she was still a bit groggy.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “I tripped. Couldn’t get up,” she answered, clutching her forehead as she had a coughing fit. Then she raised her eyes to him. “Thank you, Will,” she said.

  “It’s nothing,” Will replied awkwardly as he got to his feet. Feeling his hand where he’d burned it, he turned to see what Chester and Martha were doing. Chester was shaking his head slowly as both he and Martha regarded Will with identical expressions of disapproval. Will looked past them to where Chester had left the rucksacks. “Hey! You idiots! They’re on fire!” he shouted as he spotted that both packs were quietly smoldering. “Quick!”

  Chester and Martha immediately set about rubbing handfuls of dirt on the burning bags.

  “Are they OK? Have we lost anything?” Will asked, worried that their contents might have been damaged.

  “Nah, I don’t think so,” Chester replied, opening one to check inside. He glanced up at Will. “You shouldn’t have gone back. Not by yourself.”

  “I had to,” Will said.

  Chester wasn’t convinced. “It was a crazy thing to do,” he said.

  Martha glowered at Rebecca. “And because of that Styx and her antics, we’re going to be short of water until the next spring.” She turned to face down the tunnel. “We should go.”

  Several miles later, Martha started to slow down. She approached the tunnel wall, fumbled with something, then swung open a rough wooden door.

  “What’s this place?” Chester asked as she stepped through the timber doorway.

  “They’re called the Wolf Caves — it’s a bolt-hole Nathaniel found. He kept some spare spider traps here.”

  With Elliott between them on the stretcher, Will and Chester followed her in and found that it was a reasonably sized space with a floor of soft sand. The tunnel seemed to extend farther, but Martha didn’t make any move to go down it, instead dumping her kit on the sandy floor. Rebecca and Bartleby had also come in, although Rebecca, still not fully recovered from her ordeal, simply lay down on the ground.