by Adam Carter
Her final hope before she plunged into the freezing depths was that her crash helmet might somehow enable her to survive what was without doubt the worst crash of her life.
CHAPTER FIVE
The storm was strong, but Allen hoped the bad weather would keep the triceratops away. They had not seen the animal since it had crushed their buggy, but Allen was hardly taking any chances. He and Monroe had left the buggy and started back across the plains without any hope of reaching the camp before nightfall, even though they still had several hours. The rain and the animals would have likely proven enough to keep them back, although Monroe had suffered an injury to his leg and was hobbling. Allen knew he was himself fortunate to have come out of the wreck relatively unscathed, for his own injuries had turned out to be more panic than substance. But he was not a doctor and there was nothing he could do for Monroe. The Professor tried not to slow them too badly, but there was no denying they would not be getting very far.
And then a strange sight had appeared in the distance and Monroe had pointed it out eagerly, determining it to be a rampaging dinosaur. But it was moving too fast and causing too much noise to be a dinosaur, and Allen recognised the motorbike from the camp. Dropping Monroe, Allen had waved his arms frantically, shouting as loud as he could, but Garrel had not seen him and had all but avoided the plain, heading off towards a rockier area.
“We should head after her,” Allen said, finding Monroe where he had dropped him. “We have a better chance of getting back to camp if we walk in the opposite direction.”
“Chasing your girlfriend all across this wet world,” Monroe said, teeth gritted through the pain, “is not a good reason to drag me around, lad.”
“I thought you wanted to see dinosaurs, Professor.”
“I do.”
“Well do you see any on these plains?”
“No.”
“Then maybe they’ve all taken shelter in the rocks.”
Monroe laughed. “Ludicrous, of course. But at least you’re thinking. Come on then, let’s see how fast I can move when we’re both properly motivated.”
It took the two men far too long to cross the plain and evening was setting in by the time they made it to even the beginning of the rocks. Night always fell quickly on Ceres and they knew they would have to find somewhere to stop. They were exhausted and far from their camp, and they knew that night always brought out the worst predators. So far the expedition had managed to avoid being out at night, and if they ever went out to collect samples they were fastidious in making certain they were back before night fell entirely. Their video equipment had caught images of truly horrific monsters roaming the lands at night, and Allen did not ever want to meet any of them; although surmised Monroe would have been ecstatic to find himself in the hunting ground of such beasts. Allen was glad their monitoring of the lands were done purely for purposes of defence, for if their interest was in researching the dinosaurs rather than the fossils he could not imagine any of them walking away from this mission.
There had been a lot of speculation over the years as to why the dinosaurs acted erratically, although of course with no one legally travelling to Ceres there were only ever rumours as to how they behaved anyway. Information was supposedly gathered through long-range probes and really powerful telescopes, although Allen had a sneaking suspicion that the Jovian government knew far more about the dinosaurs here than they would ever say. Even since Allen and the others had arrived, they had noticed what could have been termed erratic behaviour for dinosaurs. Many of the old theories were being overturned when confronted with living specimens, although they had to remember that the dinosaurs on Ceres were unnatural. There were so many factors differentiating Ceres and prehistoric Earth – from the artificial sun, different gravity, smaller land mass, greater concentration of animals which had never existed together in nature; the list was endless. As such, what was true for Earth millions of years earlier was not necessarily true for Ceres today, and it was no surprise therefore that the animals had adapted, or had never been the same to begin with. Many of the predators on Ceres, for instance, were nocturnal. That may not have been the case on Earth, but with so many different predator species on Ceres it was sometimes as though they divvied up the day and night, each keeping to their own agreed parameters.
Which of course denoted a heightened intelligence Tom Allen really didn’t want to even consider.
Allen carefully set Monroe down upon the wet rocks while he himself scouted the area. He had not thought to salvage any of the equipment from the buggy, but doubted any of it would have been in working order anyway. He did thankfully have a small torch in his pocket, which he presently cast about the ground to make sure he didn’t take a wrong step. The terrain was jagged here, and he surmised it could have been the result of seismic activity. He suddenly remembered why they were out here at all, and shone his torch into the cracks in the rock and the crevasses of different sizes in the hope that something might shine back out at him. But he received no such sparkle and decided there were more important things to be worrying about right at that moment.
Shining his light further afield, Allen discovered they had arrived at a system of what he could have called mountains. Massive rock structures rose at every angle, blocking even the constant sight of Jupiter lording over them all in the sky. Allen could imagine if their entire camp was dropped into this system of mountains and valleys, it would never be heard from again, no matter how many search parties were sent in.
Returning to where he had left Monroe, he found the Professor had managed to move to an overhang of rock where he was keeping relatively dry. Allen was surprised he had made it so far in so short a period of time, and worried Monroe had aggravated the wound in his leg. Once more he wished he was a doctor.
“There’s a cave here,” Monroe told him. “No idea how far back it goes, but it has to be better than sitting out here in the rain.”
“There are mountains and valleys everywhere around us,” Allen said. The storm was worsening and he could barely hear himself speak by this point. “We’ll have to wait until morning to move anywhere, so we may as well try this cave of yours. I have a torch. I’ll go first.”
“Don’t worry about me, lad; I’m not an invalid.” Monroe used the wall of rock to get to his feet and Allen noticed he had procured a stout branch from somewhere, likely broken off and washed to the rocks by the storm. By using it as a makeshift crutch he was able to walk reasonably well.
Knowing any further words would be drowned out by the storm, Allen set off for the cave, Monroe trailing only slightly behind.
The cave was dark, and Allen’s light only penetrated so far into the gloom. He moved slowly, although the more steps he took the less the howling of the wind battered his eardrums. His boots began to squelch, indicating that the rock was now dry underfoot, although he would not be happy to settle down for the night until he had investigated the entire cave.
“You should rest here while I explore,” Allen said. “Do you have a gun?”
“Why would I have brought a gun, lad?”
“Here,” Allen said, wincing even as he produced the pistol he had himself brought. A creature could just as easily be lurking at the back of the cave as coming in from the entrance, but he did not feel right in leaving Monroe defenceless.
Monroe looked at the gun and appeared uncomfortable about something. It was the look of guilt. “You keep it, lad.”
“I’ll be fine. If I find something I’ll come running and you shoot whatever’s behind me. Besides, I’ve never fired a gun in my life.” He did not know whether Monroe had either, but he was of the upper class and there was a chance he belonged to some rifle association or something. Allen knew he was probably being prejudice in his thoughts, but soaked through and lost in a cave he found he didn’t much care about things like that.
“You’re a good man, Allen,” Monroe said, accepting the gun at last. “Hurry back, eh?”
“I’ll try not to
get eaten, sir.”
There were no further words to say, and Allen knew if he stopped any longer he would likely lose the necessary courage to press on alone and unarmed. He could not see the feeble light of his torch doing much to deter an angry carnivore whose bedroom he was invading.
The cave was relatively smooth, the walls solid, and he knew it would come to an end shortly rather than opening out into a network. Allen knew little about caves, but being an archaeologist he knew perhaps more than most. He knew most caves were formed by water, for instance, and the general smoothness of this one indicated it was one of them. It was possible there had been a waterway running through this area at some point, perhaps even an ocean. He did not know whether there actually were any oceans on Ceres, but certainly there was water.
None of this mattered at present, however, and he knew it was just his nervous brain’s way of dealing with the situation.
At last his torchlight pierced the blackness and found the end of the cave. There was a scattering of branches and a few bones to prove some animal had at one time called this cave its own, but there was nothing to indicate anything had been here recently. Allen kicked through what amounted to the nest, and it broke apart easily. Certainly there was nothing living here now, and he felt a little better knowing that any animal that might attack him would have to first get through Monroe and his pistol.
He was just about to return to Monroe when the light of his torch glinted off something. Crouching, Allen fished through the old detritus and found something which felt like metal. Picking it out of the mess, he rubbed the thing on his trousers to wipe away some of the dirt and examined what he had found. It was small, no larger than a penny, and seemed to be made of gold. There was a hook at the top to indicate it had at one time been attached to a chain, although such was long gone. He played his fingers around it and found a catch at the base. Pressing it, the small golden ornament split in two on a hinge and he realised what he was holding was a locket. There was a picture inside: an old, worn photograph of a young man’s face. He appeared only around twenty, with dark hair and a pleasant smile. It was difficult to tell from such a small picture, but by the style of the image he would have expected this not to be recent.
Taking the locket with him, Allen worked his way quickly back to where Monroe was waiting. The Professor was glad to see him, and listened as Allen told him nothing had lived in the cave for a long while. Then Allen showed him the locket and he took it with intrigue.
“I wonder how it got here,” Allen said.
“Someone dropped it.”
“I guess. But Ceres is quarantined.”
“Doesn’t stop people coming here, lad.”
“Really? But the law ...”
Monroe laughed, and Allen felt suddenly foolish. “Ceres is the most famous place in the whole Jovian system: in the whole solar system probably. For years there’s been talk about sending people here for various reasons, Allen, but the recommendations have always been vetoed. It would be the ideal place for soldiers to train, or to send ex-wives and mother-in-laws. If you make something illegal it only makes people want to do it more.”
“But there are patrols aren’t there?”
Monroe shrugged. “There are also rumours of any incoming craft being vaporised, but we made it through. Ceres’s airspace is apparently monitored, so the government knows who’s coming and going, but even if someone lands here what then? No one is allowed on Ceres, so the government wouldn’t be allowed to send someone here after them. If someone does manage to land on Ceres, there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”
Allen was not so sure, but then Monroe knew more about these things than he did.
“Picture this,” Monroe said. “Let’s say the government does a U-turn on our being here. They send us a message the instant we get back to camp, telling us we have to leave Ceres right now. And we say no. We even send a message back telling them where to stick it. What are they going to do about it?”
Allen had never thought of that before, but what Monroe was saying did make a certain kind of sense. Ceres was a political minefield, and there were more governments trying to claim the world than any other piece of land in the history of the human race. Even within the Jupiter system there were various governments which thought Ceres should belong to them, and that was before Earth even put their oar in. Their own government sending in an extraction team would likely spark a system-wide cold war.
“So how many people,” Allen asked slowly, “do you think have been here over the years?”
“I wouldn’t care to guess. How many fleas on a dog?”
“You really think it’s that many?”
“Allen, there aren’t any records kept about Ceres, no official records anyway. No one’s supposed to know anything about this place for the simple reason that no one’s ever been here before.”
“I think the government must have been then,” Allen said, although not liking to admit it aloud. “I agree they’ve probably been here more than once without telling anyone. But they wouldn’t leave a locket behind.”
“Then it could be anyone,” Monroe said. “Young lovers looking for solace, teenagers on a dare, religious nuts who seem to think the world evidence of the Second Coming. Or just unfortunates who crashed here. You can’t stop people coming to Ceres, Allen: especially not by putting up a ‘do not enter’ sign.”
Allen clutched the locket tightly, imagining which of those the owner could have been. Young lovers seemed the most appropriate. He could only imagine the horror they had gone through for that locket to have ended where it had.
“How old do you reckon the locket to be?” Monroe asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Give it here.”
Allen complied and Monroe turned it over in his hand, curious. But Allen knew Monroe knew next to nothing about archaeology, and curiosity alone did not solve riddles.
“I’ll get Professor Travers to look it over,” Allen said, taking it back and dropping it into a pocket. “Maybe we can even try to return it to the boy’s family.”
“What boy?”
Allen wondered whether Monroe was being intentionally stupid. “We should camp down for the night,” he said instead. “In the morning we can start looking for Sara again. With any luck the storm might have stopped by then.”
Monroe nodded and struggled to his feet, but Allen made him rest.
“Stay and watch the cave entrance,” Allen said. “I’ll fetch some of the wood from the back of the cave and start a fire. I don’t have any food, but maybe we could dry out our clothes.”
It was not ideal, but it was all they had. Things would look better in the morning.
CHAPTER SIX
Jeannie looked up at her with wide, expectant eyes, clutching the swirling lollipop which was almost as large as her head. She knew the lolly had been a bribe, because Jeannie was the smartest five-year-old Sara Garrel had ever known. Of course, being her mother, she was slightly biased.
“The clown show starts in ten minutes,” Garrel told her with a broad grin. “If we don’t hurry we’re going to miss getting a good seat.”
“Mummy, why is Daddy leaving?”
It was a question Garrel had been hoping Jeannie wouldn’t have asked aloud, or at least not quite so bluntly. It was of course all the girl cared about at that moment. The visit to the circus at the seaside was supposed to take her mind off things, take both their minds off things, but it seemed Jeannie was so smart she was going to take the bribe and still ask the awkward questions anyway. Garrel was beginning to feel the upcoming mad sugar-rushing five-year-old was something she could have done without if she was going to be answering these questions anyway.
“Daddy loves you, sweetheart,” Garrel said, falling to one knee so she could talk with her daughter at eye level. Hundreds of people were walking or running past them, so many other families with candy floss and ice cream tucked into the children’s tiny hands, but none of them paid any attention to
Garrel and Jeannie. “Daddy just ... needs some time away.”
“Is it because of that floozy?” Jeannie asked, licking her lollipop.
Garrel started. “Jeannie, where did you pick up a nasty word like that?”
“I heard you talking on the phone to Grandma. You were crying. You said you hoped that floozy was already cheating on him so he’d know what it was like.”
Garrel did not know what to say, or perhaps had said too much. She ruffled her daughter’s hair and said, “Mummy’s going to take good care of you, OK, sweetheart? Daddy’s not going to be around so much any more.”
“Is that because his floozy told him not to be?”
That was precisely why, but Garrel could think of no way to explain that to a five-year-old girl. Then she realised she didn’t have to, considering Jeannie had just explained it to her own mother. Garrel caught her daughter up in a tight embrace and tried to hold back her tears. “You’re a special girl, Jeannie. Don’t ever forget that.”
Jeannie hugged her back and Garrel felt warmth flowing through her. Then she felt something tugging at her finger, and with each tug she felt colder and colder, an uncomfortable wetness seeping through her very being.
Sara Garrel opened her eyes to find herself lying on her back, staring up at a thin strip of light formed by two almost joining sides of a steep crevasse. She could feel water soaking through her back and knew if she was lying on her belly she would have drowned. The steady slosh of the water told her she was close to a body of it, and as she turned her head to the right she could see where the artificial river was funnelling away. The sky above did not appear to be showing any further rain, but there was still a steady trickle leading into whatever rocky pit within which she had found herself entrapped. She doubted there was a way out, and that was even before she had stood up. Her body ached from exertion and near-drowning, while her stomach rumbled in hunger. It may well have been many hours since she had plunged into the river and she knew she was lucky to be alive at all.