Freefall

by Roderick Gordon

  Following Dr. Burrows’s compass bearing, they finally came to the edge of the jungle. They stepped out into a clearing. Some one hundred feet away stood the nearest of the pyramids.

  Will and Dr. Burrows stopped dead on the spot. Through his binoculars, Dr. Burrows examined the edifice, greedily taking in the detail of each of the tiers as he worked his way to the very top.

  “By Zeus, just look at that! Do you see all those carvings! It’s stunning!” he cried. “And, Will, look at the scale of it! The apex is way up above the trees!”

  “What are those?” Elliott said, squinting at the sky. Huge clouds loomed overhead, blanking out the sun so completely it was as if dusk had suddenly come upon them. At the same time the calls of the cicadas and the birds ceased, leaving an eerie silence.

  “Don’t worry — they’re just clouds. You get them Topsoil, too,” Will told her just as a blinding flash of lightning split across the sky. In the next instant, they were pelted by a torrential rain.

  “It’s a monsoon!” Dr. Burrows laughed.

  Will held his arms out, letting the rain wash over him. “Ahh, that’s just what I needed!” he yelled above the noise of the storm. But a few seconds later, the downpour had grown so powerful it was knocking them off their feet. “Ow! It hurts!” Will cried as they beat a hasty retreat back into the jungle. “That was a bit more than I needed,” he complained.

  As the three of them watched the deluge from the edge of the jungle, they heard a crashing through the trees: Not far behind, a hefty branch dropped to the ground.

  “The trees certainly take a beating,” Dr. Burrows said as Will and Elliott went over to inspect the fallen branch. Will frowned, then bent over and, using both hands, plucked something from it.

  “An apple … as big as a head?” he said, holding up the massive fruit so his father could see it.

  It certainly resembled a giant apple, with beautiful rosy patches on its flawless green skin. Using Cal’s penknife, Will cut a hunk nearly the size of a slice of watermelon from it.

  “Let me see,” Elliott asked, and Will passed it to her. At first she simply sniffed it, then she took a bite. “That’s good. Have some,” she said, and handed it back to Will, who also sampled it.

  “Good? It’s totally delicious!” he exclaimed, offering it to his father.

  “No, we need to take this one step at a time,” Dr. Burrows said. “If we eat the same thing, and it doesn’t agree with us, it might put us all out of action. After all, this isn’t our natural habitat.”

  “Tastes pretty dang natural to me,” Will said, biting off another large mouthful.

  As the rain moved away, they emerged from the jungle, marveling at the drops of water that hung from the edges of the leaves and glittered like diamonds in the bright sunlight.

  “What a truly, truly wonderful place. It’s totally unspoiled,” Dr. Burrows enthused. “Like a secret Eden.”

  “That was a doozy of a storm,” Will said, mopping his face. Their footfalls on the lush green carpet made squishing noises as they went, but even now the ground was beginning to dry out again in the intense sunlight.

  “Yes — any bushfires would immediately be quenched by precipitation that heavy. Maybe that’s how it goes,” Dr. Burrows said thoughtfully.

  “How do you mean?” Will asked.

  “Maybe it’s an endless cycle of fire and water, death and regrowth, which probably makes sense, since technically there are no seasons in this world. And the only ‘night’ here is when the cloud cover blots out the sun, as we just witnessed firsthand.” He fixed his son with a stare. “So, Will, now do you believe that this isn’t the surface?”

  “I think I have to,” Will concurred.

  “Good boy.” Dr. Burrows grinned, placing a hand on his son’s shoulder. He turned to face the pyramid. “Shall we take a look at what we’ve got here, then?” he suggested, and with bated breath they approached the base of the pyramid. “The three-pronged symbol!” Dr. Burrows stated abruptly.

  “Yeah, I’ve got it on every level,” Will said as he scanned up the tiers of the pyramid, locating the tridentlike motif carved into the facing stones. They were so large that he didn’t need the binoculars to see them. He thought again of the pendant with the same symbol on it that Uncle Tam had given him, which even now hung around his neck. He wondered how Tam had come by it, and whether he’d known of this secret at the center of the earth all along. Will certainly wouldn’t put it past him.

  “So my forgotten people — who predated the Egyptians and the Phoenicians — might have been responsible for this pyramid.” Dr. Burrows was thinking out loud. “Maybe somewhere around here is the Lost City of Atlant —” He broke off at the sound of Elliott’s birdlike whistle. They spun to where she was standing, by one of the corners of the pyramid.

  “What’s she trying to tell us?” Dr. Burrows asked.

  “Dunno,” Will replied. He immediately took his Sten from his shoulder, shook the water from it, and cocked it. Then he and Dr. Burrows went to investigate.

  As they approached Elliott, they saw that before her, spiked on wooden stakes, were three skulls. The skulls had no flesh on them, and were sun-bleached bone-white.

  “Human?” Will asked.

  “Yes, but not recent,” Dr. Burrows observed, as if that was any sort of consolation.

  “This one has a wound to the temple,” Elliott said as she pointed at the middle of the three.

  Dr. Burrows and Will circled around it, studying the irregular hole in the side of the skull.

  “You can’t tell that for sure,” Dr. Burrows countered, shaking his head. “Might have been caused by an accident — a fall or something. And this could be some sort of ritual burial.”

  “It’s a bullet hole,” Elliott said unequivocally. “There’s an exit wound on the other side.”

  Will glanced uneasily over his shoulder, regarding the dense jungle around them in a different light. “Why were the skulls left here?” he said.

  “It’s a sign … a warning,” Elliott replied.

  Will immediately swiveled his head toward her and their eyes met. She’d used precisely the same phrase when, back in the claustrophobic confines of the Deeps, they’d stumbled upon the grisly display of the dead Coprolites and renegades, then come within a whisker of being discovered by a patrol of Limiters. Will had been so upset by the incident that he’d lashed out indiscriminately at Elliott, saying things he almost immediately regretted. His words put a strain on their relationship, and nothing he’d done since had succeeded in salvaging it. But it was different now, as if he’d been given a second chance — an opportunity to start over again with her.

  Dragging his gaze away from Elliott, Will addressed his father. “Whatever killed these people, Dad, now we know we’re not the only ones here,” he said quietly. “Could be anyone down here with us — the men from the submarine, pirates from the old galleon, or maybe something far, far worse.”

  Dr. Burrows arched his eyebrows.

  “Maybe this isn’t such an unspoiled place after all,” Will said to him.

  37

  “WILL SAID this used a ton of fuel to get them home,” Chester shouted as he cut the outboard engine and silence returned to the harbor.

  “Don’t you fret, my precious boy, I’ll fetch some more cans for you,” Martha offered as she stood on the quayside, gazing lovingly down at Chester as he remained sitting in the launch.

  He watched the plump woman waddling off toward the fuel tanks. “Precious boy?” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. She was getting really scary. Without Will around, she seemed to be focusing all her affection on him, and he didn’t like it one bit. She was forever gawping at him with those doe eyes, and it filled him with mounting unease.

  The worst moment had come when they’d been trekking up the seam, using the signals from the radio beacons to guide them to the underground harbor. As they’d broken off for a rest, Martha offered to keep watch while Chester got some shut-eye
for a few hours. But he’d woken up with a start, certain that someone was stroking his hair. Through the slits of his half-closed eyes he caught Martha making a sudden movement as she retracted her hand. He’d been far too embarrassed and, quite frankly, far too disturbed by the whole incident to confront her about it. And as he thought about it again now his skin crawled.

  He certainly wouldn’t have attempted the journey to the fallout shelter on his own, and there was little doubt in his mind that he needed someone else with him for the next leg up the river. But he also wouldn’t in a thousand years have chosen Martha as his sole traveling companion, not with the way she was acting now.

  With the launch rocking beneath his feet, he slowly rose up so that he could just see over the pier. He watched Martha’s progress along the quay. As soon as she disappeared into one of the buildings, he was on the move. “Go for it,” he said, leaping from the boat. He rushed in the opposite direction down the quay and into the fallout shelter. There he made straight for the radio operator’s booth and closed the door behind him.

  “The black phone … the black phone … Will said the black phone,” Chester gabbled a little hysterically as he snatched the receiver from its cradle. He listened. “No tone … but Will said there was no tone,” Chester reminded himself, and hurriedly began to dial the number that Elliott had been repeating while she’d had the fever.

  In his haste, he misdialed, putting his finger in the wrong hole. As he panicked, he caught sight of a small poster on the wall. In simple, bold letters, black on a white background, it proclaimed KEEP CALM AND CARRY ON. Some wag had added the word DYING at the very end in blue pen, but the original message wasn’t lost on Chester. He took a deep breath and redialed.

  “Please be working, please be working …”

  He waited a few seconds just in case it took a moment for the call to connect. Hearing a crackle in the earpiece, he began to speak into the receiver, his words coming out in a gush. “Drake, this is Chester, I’m about to start the journey up the river, and I … um … you’ve got to meet me at the top,” he begged in a strained voice. “You have to,” he added, and ceased for a moment as he thought he heard a noise outside in the corridor. He lowered his voice to an urgent plea, “I’m counting on you being there, Drake. I can’t handle —”

  Now certain that someone was moving around in the corridor, Chester quickly hung up the receiver and dropped himself into one of the chairs. Putting his feet up on the bench, he tipped his head forward onto his chest as if he’d fallen asleep.

  The door creaked slowly open behind him. “My precious boy, are you in … ah, you are in here,” Martha said, a little surprised.

  Chester stretched out his arms and yawned in a rather stagey manner. “Must have dozed off,” he lied.

  Martha ran her eyes over the equipment on the bench without any interest. “I’ve seen to the fuel, and I was wondering if you’re ready to eat now,” she said, scratching her bottom through her voluminous skirts.

  “Er … no … that’s OK, Martha,” Chester replied. “I thought I’d check out the supplies myself a bit later on. Really, you just go ahead and have something and don’t worry about me.”

  “Right you are, dearie,” she said, not hiding her disappointment as she shuffled off.

  Chester remained in the booth, wondering yet again if there was any possible way he could complete the remainder of the journey on his own. The thought of steaming out of the harbor without Martha in the launch was very tempting, but from what Will had told him, the trip needed two people to take turns on the outboard. Chester swore silently — no, he couldn’t see how he could do it on his own.

  And he also couldn’t see how it was going to work when he actually did arrive Topsoil. There would be the ever present risk of the Styx to contend with, but despite this he was determined that he was going to see his parents. He had to let them know he was still alive. However, with Martha in tow, how would that work? It was as if he had somehow collected a third parent, a doting and rather deranged one. All of a sudden a terrible picture forced its way into his head. In this picture, Martha, consumed by jealousy and frothing at the mouth, was about to use her crossbow on his mum and dad.

  “No, no, no, no, no.” He rubbed his forehead hard. “Will, wherever you are, you’ve got a lot to answer for,” Chester said, and then, for some reason, he began to laugh. “Will, Will, Will,” he repeated, shaking his head and still laughing.

  38

  WILL HAD TO AGREE with his father — they’d found themselves in an Eden of sorts. Although the discovery of the impaled skulls had struck a discord in their otherwise perfect idyll, they put all thoughts of it behind them and immersed themselves in their new way of life. But, more than anything else, this uncomplicated existence offered them all the chance for them to have a badly needed rest, to recover.

  On one of their first excursions into the jungle, Will and his father came across traces of a city. Although the land had long since been reclaimed by the prodigious growth of trees, the numerous ruins suggested that the city had been built on an immense scale, covering several square miles. Dr. Burrows was convinced he’d found where his itinerant people — the Ancients, as he had taken to calling them — had settled and established a sprawling metropolis. And the friezes and writing on their pyramids demonstrated that they had been more advanced by many centuries than Topsoil cultures if Dr. Burrows’s estimate of the age of the ruins was correct. Their achievements in philosophy, mathematics, medicine, and many other disciplines were simply astonishing.

  Dr. Burrows’s theory was that the Ancients were the basis for the legend of Atlantis. He was certain that somehow Plato had heard reports of this hidden civilization back in the third century B.C. and had written about it in his dialogues, but had never learned of its true location. And so all the centuries of conjecture that ensued — that the city had been on an island or islands in the Atlantic Ocean or Mediterranean Sea, islands which had been swallowed up by the waves — were completely mistaken. Dr. Burrows was convinced that it had been hidden here in the very center of the earth all along. Will wasn’t so preoccupied with such matters, more than content to spend his days working closely with his father as they recorded their findings. It was as though Will’s dream had finally come true.

  Elliott learned to live with the sun, turning as brown as a berry in no time at all — Will attributed it to her Styx heritage, knowing how the Rebecca twins had just as effortlessly adapted to Topsoil conditions.

  Not far from the pyramid, she built a shelter up in the branches of one of the giant trees to accommodate them all. And armed with a bow and arrow, she would go off on hunting trips with Bartleby at her side. The Hunter proved his worth in tracking prey after he’d been persuaded not to just sniff out small rodents and reptiles. The girl and the cat would often be absent from the camp for days on end, going deep into the jungle to stalk gazelle and antelope. These provided an ample supply of both meat and hides, which she knew how to prepare from the skills she’d picked up in the Deeps. She also discovered that several major rivers meandered through the jungle; Will would sometimes accompany her to these and help her to string nets across them to catch any of the many varieties of large fish.

  It was on one of these outings that the unexpected happened.

  Taking Bartleby with them — because Dr. Burrows refused point-blank to look after him, maintaining he was far too busy with his work and that it was tantamount to babysitting — Will and Elliott had set off to do some fishing in the largest of the rivers. It was a day’s walk from the camp, but Will had jumped at the opportunity for a change of scenery, and to spend time with Elliott.

  But Elliott spoke little to Will as they went, their feet hardly making a sound as they trekked across the thick carpet of leaf debris covering the jungle floor. It was as though she was unable to refrain from using the field skills that had been so essential to her survival in the Deeps. Will didn’t see the need for this constant state of vigilance at a
ll, quite content to stroll along and observe the wildlife, or to lose himself in his thoughts.

  Several hours into the journey, Elliott held up a clenched fist — the sign they should stop immediately. Will failed to notice this for a few paces, causing Elliott to make a hissing noise to get his attention. Frowning, he turned to her.

  “What is it?”

  Taking her rifle from her shoulder, she gestured toward Bartleby.

  Will looked at the cat, who had slunk low to the ground, his spindly tail stuck straight out behind him. As he’d been trained to do in the Colony, the cat did seem to be pointing like he’d sniffed something out.

  Will nodded. “It’s probably just some animal he doesn’t know. A Heffalump or a Woozle,” he chuckled.

  But Elliott was deadly serious. “Don’t want him running off — going to put a leash on him,” she whispered to Will. Removing her Bergen, she took a length of rope from it, which she looped around Bartleby’s neck and knotted. “And get your Sten ready,” she ordered.

  Will scanned the jungle floor ahead. So thick was the foliage above, only the odd finger of sunlight made its way through. In between the gargantuan tree trunks, these laser-bright beams of light stretched as far as the eye could see, shifting slightly and sometimes flickering out altogether when the wind blew hard and the branches above came together. It all looked so unthreatening and innocent. But then again, Elliott had glimpsed some type of large feline predator just a few days before. From the description the girl had given, Dr. Burrows thought it could be a saber-toothed tiger, much to his excitement. Either way, Will knew that he might be becoming a little too complacent in a world where anything was possible. So with a reluctant sigh, he swung the Sten off his shoulder, checked that the magazine was full, then cocked the submachine gun.