by Eve Langlais
“Stop being so dramatic. You pee on the other side of the rock, and I’ll just go over there by that hump for a squat.”
“Bring the fire with you.”
“No. Can you stop with the caveman routine? Just because I don’t swing a dick doesn’t mean I’m scared of the dark.”
“Just trying to be fucking nice,” he grouched.
“Nice would be resuming what we started,” she quipped.
Dead silence.
Good silence or the bad kind? She kind of wanted to know, only she didn’t have time because she’d caught a scent. Something different that didn’t belong. Rank, and a bit of rot. It had been downwind until the slight breeze shifted.
She walked quietly, her senses tuned. She would have preferred switching to her lion. However, with Peter nearby, she had to be careful.
The sandy ground molded to each step she took and made it hard to focus her gaze on any one spot given the undulations, the ripples, and peaks.
It hid until she was almost upon it. The monster rose suddenly, a fake heap come to life, and hissed.
What the fuck was it?
The thing, with its rat-like body, had a long tail, barbed at the end, and tan-colored fur blotching parts of its body. Other sections were pasty wrinkly skin.
It stood on two legs, its front paws tipped with knife-long—and she’d bet sharp—claws. The fetid stench coming off it was enough to make her want to gag and this from someone who’d tracked dead bodies in the past.
The only thing that wasn’t scary about it?
Its size. It didn’t even reach her knee. Nora dove close and grabbed it by the scruff. It let out a god-awful squeal that drew Peter with a cry.
“Nora! Are you okay?”
She carried her prize back with a triumphant, “I think I found the mouse.”
“What?” Holding the gel can, Peter got close enough to see what she caught. “What the fuck is that?” He visibly recoiled while her captive monster hissed, its stubby whiskers twitching.
“This is our next clue,” she stated, stopping a few feet from Peter, holding the thrashing creature firmly. It really wasn’t cooperating, and it squealed something fierce.
“Listen Ms. Mutant Rodent Wrangler, I think you should put that thing down before you catch something.”
“I will let go when you’re ready to follow it.”
“I am not following that creature.” His nose wrinkled.
“We have to. It’s the mouse.”
“It’s a freak of nature.”
“Ah, don’t say that about the baby.”
“That baby is two feet tall instead of a few inches.”
“Makes you wonder how big the adults get,” she replied as the monster calmed and hung in her grip.
“Wait,” he said slowly, and she could see the gears in his head working. “If that’s a baby then—”
The sand erupted in a geyser as Mommy—with her numerous hanging teats—erupted from the ground. Like its progeny, it had ragged fur with patches of slime oozing from sores. One jagged horn curled from beside a rounded ear, a tusk on one side of its massive, gaping maw. And one pissed-off attitude that roared at them while its many whiskers writhed in the air as if alive.
The smaller version in her grip twisted, and she let it go. Maybe mommy mutant rat wouldn’t hurt them if she got her ugly rat-ling back.
The little monster ran for its parent, and if she’d expected a warm reunion, boy was she fucking wrong.
The baby leaped and grabbed hold of Mama’s kicking foot. It clung to it and began to chew. Until Mama stomped down.
Blood and gore spattered. The little monster didn’t live to a ripe old mutant age.
Leaving them now with a still super angry mutant rat that turned its baleful gaze on them.
“Shoot it,” Peter yelled, brandishing his fancy candle at it.
“With what?”
“What do you mean with what? Don’t you have a gun?” He cast her a quick glance.
“Nope. I don’t like them.”
“Isn’t part of your job description bodyguard?”
“I’m more of a hands-on defender.”
“Are you fucking serious?”
“Do you have one?” was her sarcastic reply as they both backed away from the monster that had dropped to all four paws.
“Believe when I say I am now regretting not taking the time to find one.”
“In the book, didn’t the hero dude give it cheese or something?” She grabbed hold of her bag of cheese puffs inside her satchel and waved it. “Here mousy, mousy.” She tossed it. “Have some cheese.”
For a second the monster eyed it. Then her. Then the cheese puffs again before roaring as it stomped the bag flat.
“Dammit, I was looking forward to those.”
“Worry more about the fact it’s not happy,” he said.
“Ya think?”
“Got a plan?”
“Don’t die.”
Their grace period was over. The monster was done playing and charged. Peter did the smart human thing and ran. She stood her ground and feinted. She narrowly missed having it take off her head. She ducked and rolled.
Peter yelled, “Hey, ugly fucker, over here.”
He’d not gone far. More like flanked the beast. He waved his arms, and she wondered what the hell he was doing other than the obvious—getting himself killed.
“I’ve got this,” she growled, even as she pulled a Matrix, bending over backwards as its prehensile rat-like tail came whipping. The dripping barbs at the end probably wouldn’t feel good.
Thunk.
A rock hit the monster in the face. Peter got his death wish. The mutant rodent charged him. And Peter stupidly held his ground.
“You idiot.” Then louder, “Here, mousy, mousy. Come to say hello.”
But the monster didn’t relent, and she fully expected to see Peter gored. Nice knowing you. Sad to see you go.
What a waste of—
For a human, Peter moved faster than expected. One minute he stood there in the path of a gouging horn. The next, he lunged forward and sprang. The man put all kinds of skill into his leap, vaulting nicely in the air, flipping. It was then she realized he still held his can of burning gel. As he rotated over the monster, he spilled it.
Mutant mouse erupted into a torch of living fire.
It squealed and smelled of barbecued meat. The rancid kind that no amount of cooking or spices could fix. It bolted on four legs, aiming for the far side of their dune-covered rocky outcrop. It dove for the sand and began to burrow. The frantic motion extinguished most of the flames. Too late to do it any good. The body stopped twitching.
The night turned still once more. Safe, and her blood was still pumping.
With a smile, she turned to Peter. “So, ready for sex now?”
Chapter Twelve
The crazy thing was that for a second, Peter kind of wanted to say fuck, what just happened, and let’s have sex.
His blood ran hot, and his lust even hotter. But…the creature from Hell had left behind a putrid stench. He did his best not to gag in front of Nora. His stomach advised him he might lose that fight.
Sex? Fuck that. He wanted air not stinking of a dead mutant rat. “I don’t think now is the right time.”
Nora glanced at the body. Its ass end was uncovered, which resulted in ever more noxious gas suddenly billowing.
He moved a few paces downwind from it. She slowly followed.
“Do you not have a sense of smell?” he had to ask.
“I smell incredibly well.”
“And don’t want to puke?” He wanted to spit and snort the smell out of his lungs and nose.
She shrugged. “Not much bothers me. So you’re sure about the sex thing?” She actually waggled her brows and offered a coy smile.
The dead thing audibly farted. Peter was pretty sure he saw green gas and took another step backwards, then two more for good measure.
“You’re going i
n the wrong direction,” she said, heading back toward the source of the noxious fumes.
“I’d say you’ve got that backwards. Why are you getting closer to it?”
“Because it was obviously going somewhere.”
“It was burying itself in the ground.”
“Not just any part of the ground. It wanted here.” She pointed to the section of the dune that had dimpled at the monster’s effort. “I wonder if its lair is nearby.” She moved close enough to grab a foot and yank.
The body shifted slightly and then dropped suddenly as the spot it was partially buried in caved. The body dangled in her grip. She let it go and teetered on the edge of the newly formed hole.
“Back away!” he yelled.
“I think I see something.” She leaned forward.
The ground literally cracked. Fissures appeared, and the sand shifted, running into the hole like water. Widening its edge. But did Nora step away?
“See you below,” she shouted before the ground disappeared and she dropped into the dark maw.
“Nora!” Peter lunged forward even as he knew he couldn’t catch her in time. The jagged hole puffed a cloud of dust that blew outward and hid everything in a dirt mist.
Unable to see, he froze. He wouldn’t do Nora much good if he fell or got buried too. He mentally ran through his pack of items. Not the most comprehensive thing, given he had to work with what he could buy quickly. But the one thing he did have that didn’t take much room? Fishing line that could handle up to three hundred pounds. Enough for him and some leeway to carry something. As he palmed the line, he tried calling out. “Nora? Say something if you can so I know you’re alive.”
Please don’t let her be dead. He’d feel all kinds of bad if she was.
The night remained silent except for the occasional ping of a rock falling. It sounded close. With the dust settled he could once more see the oddly jagged lip of the hole. He noticed no cracking in his section or for a few more feet. He sank to his knees and then his belly, easing forward, pausing to make sure the ground held him.
“Nora.”
This time he heard her. “Are you worried about me, Montgomery?” Her tone was light and mocking.
“I wouldn’t dare. I take it you’re not in imminent danger.”
“Not even close. I found something. Our next clue, I think. Come down and see.”
“How about you describe it to me as I fashion a harness to pull you up,” was his reply as he rolled to this back that he might work the fishing line into something he could use.
“It’s a big room. I think it used to have a lot of windows. That’s what broke.”
A building buried in the sand? Certainly possible. “How many feet down are you?”
“Enough you can hop in. Just don’t land hard and you’ll be fine.”
“I am not joining you.”
“Why not?”
“You just saw how unstable it is.”
“Because of the windows. They’re the weak spots. See.” A sudden crack from under him dislodged his precarious perch. He went down, but not as far as expected. He barely remembered to put his hands out in time and protect his face. His palms protested the abuse.
Fuck, he protested the abuse. His midsection and legs hadn’t suffered because of a softer landing than expected. He blinked at the dust as it settled. When it did, he saw Nora crouched nearby, holding a torch she’d somehow lit.
“How?”
“I always have a lighter, and gum because some of us had to watch MacGyver growing up.” She flicked and a butane flame shot up.
It was then he realized the stick was actually a horn. And the squishy thing he’d landed on? The smell hit him, and his gorge rose. He scrambled off the body.
He ended up in a crouch, arms out as if it would fend off the sky falling. “What the fuck.”
“You say that a lot,” she remarked.
“It’s a good word for when shit is messed up. Like now.” He raked fingers through his hair.
“I’m a ‘shit’ kind of girl. Although I use the occasional fuck.”
“Are you seriously discussing swearing with me? We need to get out of here.” He raised his gaze to the ragged rim overhead. “It looks like it’s only about nine or ten feet to the edge. Maybe if I boost you on my shoulders you can climb out.”
“Why would we do that?” she asked, cocking her head, the fire at the tip of her horn illuminating her features.
“To get out of this hole.”
“Why? Don’t you see? We found the mouse’s secret passage to the ice fields.”
He glanced around at what appeared to be an old cafeteria. Trestle tables and benches. Counters at the far end. And an angled bank of sand-covered windows that had cracked, dumping a layer into the room.
Doors led off in three directions. The swinging ones at the back reminded him of those in a commercial kitchen.
“How is this supposed to lead us anywhere?”
She pointed past the mound of sand and broken glass that threatened to slice. “If you look over there, you can see where the mouse has traveled.”
A line of grime, much of it possibly shit, marked the once light-colored walls.
“You want us to follow that?” He was dubious about the idea. What if there were more mutant mice out there?
“Hell yes I do. By the looks of the signage,” she pointed, and he noticed the writing on the wall, “this was some kind of secret operation.”
“Doing what?”
“As if I know. Maybe if we check it out, we’ll find the next clue.”
“There is no way we can make it to any ice fields from here. We’re talking miles and miles to the northern edge of the continent. No building is that big.”
“You have a better idea?” she asked.
“Finding a way out of this hole,” he grumbled.
“Where’s your sense of adventure?”
Lost in an old lady’s basement. He really needed to man up and get over it. He also didn’t need her to point out what a pussy he’d become so he snapped, “How can you be so nonchalant about the fact we’re in a hole in the ground?”
“Haven’t you ever watched Indiana Jones? This is our temple. Our booby-trapped maze.”
Put in those terms, he looked around him with a different eye. The place was well preserved with the glass having lasted until a monster broke it. They could probably search the building quickly and then, when she realized there was nothing to see, they could work on a plan to get out. “Fine. We’ll have a look around.”
“Sweet,” she exclaimed. “Hold on, let me get you a torch too.”
He tried to not grimace at the wet ripping sound as she tore the tusk from the beast and handed it to him. She was so unfazed by what she’d done.
As he closed his fingers around it, he couldn’t help but ask, “Were you raised in the woods?”
“City actually, but I spent every summer at a ranch.”
“And it taught you to use animal horns as torches?”
“Among other things. You coming?” She headed off, maneuvering the collapsed ceiling debris, making her way toward the door to the north.
This was nuts. So unsafe. So stupid to do while sober. “I should have looked harder for some weed,” he muttered as he followed.
The door opened with a firm shove and led them to a set of stairs going down into pure darkness but for their torches. They landed in a tunnel that branched in three directions. Nora went straight.
“How do you know where to go?” he asked.
“I’m going north.”
The tunnel she chose proved a little disconcerting when they saw the universal symbol for radiation.
Peter cursed as they passed. “Guess that explains the rat. Wonder how much it’s leaking? Maybe I’ll be lucky and just end up sterile.”
“Or you could become a superhero.”
The very idea had him snorting. “I am not the type to wear tights. Nor am I some Robin Hood. I steal for me. And onl
y me.”
“What about family? Would you steal for them?”
“Of course,” he hotly retorted. “Although, it should be noted, my sister would be pissed if she found out. And she’s my only family.”
“Not anymore. She married, meaning you’ve just acquired a whole new one.”
“Yeah. No thanks. If you’d met her aunts-in-law you’d understand.” Lena, Lenore, and Lacey were older women who scared the piss out of him, and he couldn’t have said why.
“The triple L’s. I’ve heard of them. And by the sounds of it, they’re the equivalent of my sisters. They are always up in my business,” Nora huffed. “Because apparently every woman should want to get married and have babies.”
“And every guy needs to stop sowing his oats and settle down. I’d rather keep my bachelor pad, hook up when needed, and live my life.”
“Exactly!” She eyed him. “With maybe the occasional sleepover.”
“For morning sex and breakfast in bed. Most definitely.”
“You’d be cooking.”
He almost tripped. Surely, he’d misunderstood her implication.
They passed yet another radioactive warning symbol stamped onto a massive metal door, welded shut. He could almost feel it poisoning him.
“Stop flinching every time we walk by one of them.”
“Aren’t you a little worried we’ve been exposed?”
“I’m immune.”
“No one is immune from radiation,” he said.
“I’ve got really good genes.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t realize I traveled with a superhero. Must be nice to not worry about getting hurt,” was his sarcastic drawled reply.
“Very little can. That’s just fact.”
Her arrogance had no bounds. “I’m not too proud to admit I have limits.”
“You want to go back, go.” She pointed. “You’ll have to pass all those scary signs again. Me, I’m going forward.”
“I’m not a coward.” But he did have a strong sense of self-preservation, and he’d pushed it hard enough coming into this hidden underground.
“How did you ever become a thief if you’re always worried about risk?”
“A proper theft is the one that isn’t noticed. It involves planning and then perfect execution. It doesn’t have mutant rats and radiation.”