by Adam Carter
She felt something tugging her finger again and looked to the left; and suddenly jerked her hand in revulsion.
The two-foot-long beast jumped in fright and began hissing at her.
What the thing was, Garrel could not say. It looked part bird, part dinosaur, but might well have been neither. Its arms and legs were entirely feathered, much as a bird’s, and even as it hopped backwards in alarm she could see it likely used them for gliding rather than flying; which meant it was as trapped as she was down here. It had a short body with what appeared to be very feeble bone structure, while its head was formed of a snout filled with small, sharp teeth.
The creature looked more scared than dangerous, and Garrel assumed it usually ate fish and insects. She saw her fingers were bloody where it had tried to tear into them, although thankfully she had worn gloves with her bike and aside from tearing through the material the dinosaur bird thing had done her very little damage at all.
Rising into a sitting position, Garrel groaned and realised she had lost her helmet somewhere along the fall. That may well have been a good thing, considering the glass of the visor might well have blinded her otherwise.
The creature cawed and hissed at the same time now and Garrel felt like wringing its neck and eating it just to shut the stupid thing up.
Getting to her feet, Garrel went through a systematic arrangement of her daily exercises and determined the worst part of her condition was that she was hungry. Performing a brief visual search of her surroundings, she decided she was in a strange place indeed. Some of the rocks were smooth, and there were marks upon the walls indicating the rising of the tide. Yet the water sloshing around before her was only there because of the flood. She was standing upon a wide ledge of rock, and could see the river was only focused upon the one side of the valley because of the depression in the ground. By all she could see, water flowing through here was a common process, which meant this area of Ceres was prone to flooding. It might well be seasonal, since they had not known any truly bad weather until a week or so earlier.
However, the valley was not all smooth. Sharp, jagged rocks rose at all angles, indicating it had been formed by seismic activity. She could only imagine what destruction the two combined could accomplish. Quakes and floods together had formed this valley, but if both were to strike at the same time it would be as though Ceres itself was exploding in anger.
But Garrel was not an archaeologist and understood very little of such things. If Travers or even Allen was with her she might have some better answers.
Thoughts of Allen brought a sharp stab to her mind. She had set out initially after Allen and Monroe and thus far had seen no sign of them. That she had fallen foul of the weather likely meant they had fared far worse, for she had been hired as a survivalist. That they could both be dead was not something she wanted to consider, yet it was the most likely possibility: unless they had taken shelter somewhere. Still, there was nothing she could do to help them until she got herself out of this mess, so she concentrated on her own predicament.
Light was still pouring in from above, although she knew once it began to get dark she would lose light very quickly, what with the small aperture through which the sun’s rays were filtering. Tufts of vegetation grew by the side of the river, struggling for survival in even the worst of conditions. Garrel decided she would not be outdone by a weed.
She moved across to see where the water was going. She could see how it was coming in, by flowing down the valley’s side and running through the enclosed area. It only ran for twenty metres or so before crashing against the far wall and disappearing, and it was to this that Garrel headed. It did not look especially pleasant as the dirty river water slammed into the wall and disappeared down a crack in the haphazard formation of the valley. The hole did not appear very large, but she felt she would be able to squeeze through. However, she could not see anything beneath her. For all she knew the water dropped for a thousand metres, or else crashed into jagged rocks. The one thing she had in her favour was that there was so much water going down that hole that it had to lead somewhere: it could not simply hit solid rock and trickle through cracks smaller than Garrel’s body. If she went down that hole she was certain she would not become trapped, with tonnes of water hammering at her head.
But leaping into the unknown did not seem like the best of ideas either.
The dinosaur bird snapped at her once more where she was crouching, trying to nip her backside. She looked at it, wishing she had some fancy green and yellow feathers so she could fly out of the valley, but even if she plucked the beast it would not help her any. That the creature was trapped just as badly as she suddenly occurred to her, for the creature could glide but not fly. It was frightened and nipping at her because it perhaps felt she was either a threat or even the reason it was trapped here at all. She could hardly blame it for its panic, but tying it to a rock and dropping it through the hole was appealing to her. If she listened to its shriek as it fell she might be able to get a fair idea of what was down there.
Then she disregarded the idea as cruel and wondered what Jeannie would have to say had she heard such thoughts.
Jeannie.
She was so far away now, worlds away, and Garrel felt a stab in her heart as she thought of her. She didn’t want to be here, she wanted to be with her daughter. But that wasn’t possible, and if she wanted Jeannie she needed money. Money was what kept life going, and as much as Garrel hated it, it was the only reason she was here. It was strange being on Ceres, a world which had never even countenanced a monetary system, and she wished she could just take Jeannie and bring her here. At least she would be safe, and away from her father.
She shook such thoughts from her mind. Jeannie was a long way away and she needed to focus on where she was, else she would never get to see her again.
Standing upon the edge of the hole, water sluicing through and frothing dark murky slush, she could see nothing of her fate and tried to still the sudden tremble to her body. She had convinced herself she would not be crushed to death should she make this leap of faith, but that was because she had no other choice. She could not ascend the smooth valley walls which sloped inwards to the summit, and could not stand around waiting for a rescue when there were only three other people on the world, two of them lost.
Beside her the strange dinosaur bird cawed once more, and she realised the major difference between her and it. They were both panicked and afraid, but the creature would do nothing about it. It would leap around frantically but ever remain trapped. Eventually it would die from lack of food. It was not willing to take a risk and potentially save its life. As much as she was jealous of its beautiful plumage, Sara Garrel was not a dinosaur bird. She would shape her own future.
Taking a deep breath, Garrel closed her eyes, took one step forward and disappeared into the raging maelstrom.
Her world exploded as she was physically battered by the massive assault of water. The thunder slammed through her ears, the savage chill freezing her to the marrow. Garrel had never been one to underestimate any force of nature, and water had always been the thing she respected most. Even a simple stream which looked so calm could hold a hidden current to snap away a human life in moments. Water knew it was necessary to the continued existence of all life, and lorded over all species in its arrogance.
Her back slammed into a particularly sharp rock and she could feel the sting of an open wound. Her body was being battered from all directions as she was swept through the rock structures, and she felt her lungs screaming at her for release. But she kept her eyes closed, her breath inside her, and just allowed the current to take her, playing with her as it saw fit.
Something struck her in the stomach and Garrel felt the air explode from her lungs. She gasped, stale air filling her chest, and she opened her eyes to find she was in some form of lake. The water cascaded from above, creating a dark and terrible waterfall which fed the lake constantly. Garrel trod water and turned to survey the area int
o which she had fallen. She estimated the lake stretched for perhaps fifty metres, yet the massive cavern in which she found herself was so dark she could not be certain of anything. She could see light reflecting off the cavern walls and sought out the source of illumination, but could find nothing. She had floated clear of the falling water and found the lake calmer now, more relaxing. It was even warmer than it had been in the river above, and she guessed it was being radiated with geothermal energy from below. She could see no sign of the water running off anywhere but hoped it was not all collecting in this lake; otherwise it would eventually fill the entire cavern and she would drown.
She could not see any sign of a shore, but the cavern was terribly dark, even with the strange illumination, and she had to hope there was one. Otherwise her already haggard body would tire and she would fall unconscious in the water.
Something brushed her leg then and she remembered the contact with her stomach which had expelled her breath. That there were fish in this lake was unlikely considering it had been mainly formed of rainwater, but she had no idea how long the actual lake had been here. She could not think that there would be anything actually living in the lake, but nor could she chance her life upon it.
Pushing her body into motion, Garrel gently began to swim in a direction away from the cascading waterfall. She knew a massive amount of splashing would alert anything in the lake, and in her exhaustion she knew she would not be able to fight against whatever was there.
She had made only several strokes before something once more touched her leg. She had no idea what it might have been, and was not about to craft terrible images within her mind. The only possibility she could entertain was that she was in a dark lake with a potential creature feeling her out as prey.
She continued swimming, not stopping even when the thing had touched her. She paddled for several minutes and slowly she could see the waves lapping ahead and drawing back as though they were caressing a shoreline. The farther she travelled, the more she became convinced it was indeed a shore. The thing in the water had not troubled her for some time and she had even managed to convince herself that it was nothing but a harmless fish. Perhaps there were so many of them in the lake that she had connected with different ones each time. If so, once she was on dry land she could cast in a hook or a net and catch something to eat.
She could make out shapes ahead of her now as well, in the gloom. There were a lot of rocks, some of them seeming to be piled in some form of structure, but she knew she might well have been mistaken. There were strange-looking boulders lining the shore, and Garrel wondered what they were and whether they had been placed there on purpose.
Then one of the boulders moved, waddling towards the water’s edge, and Garrel froze. She watched as the boulder slipped into the lake, disappearing beneath the surface, and she knew that whatever had been touching her under the water was the least of her concerns now. In fact, she would almost welcome the simple fish as company.
Changing direction, Garrel swam as hard as she could for what she hoped was another section of shore. She no longer cared what was in the water noticing her splashing, for she could see the tell-tale sign of a wake ahead of her; a wake suggesting there was something heading straight towards her.
Pouring all her strength into her already tired limbs, Garrel knew her adrenalin could only take her so far.
And then something rose behind her and she spun in the water as a great form came down towards her. She could see very little of it, but the flash of its eye and teeth was unmistakable. Thrusting out with her arms, Garrel attempted to fend off the beast, but it was too late. As it landed upon her the two of them vanished beneath the surface of the lake and her world once more descended into the murky watery depths.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The rain had ceased by morning and as Allen awoke it was with a real sense that he might be able to find Sara Garrel. Without doubt she had done the same thing as had he and Monroe: taken shelter for the night in a cave. It was possible she had headed back to the camp, which meant she would be setting out again to look for them at any moment. Either way she would likely be in the rocky terrain, unless of course she had doubled back to locate their demolished buggy. He could only imagine how she would react to that, thinking they had both been devoured by some terrible lizard. He knew how he would react were he to even suspect that Garrel had been killed in such a fashion and liked to think she would be at least slightly saddened at his loss.
As he kicked to death the remnants of their fire, he forced himself to face the terrible reality that Garrel did not care for him quite that much. He had been hoping he might grow on her, that he might be able to help her forget all her problems, but he had been thinking all night about what Monroe had said about trying to hook the woman and had come to one fatal conclusion; all he did was annoy her. He wanted something special with her and she saw him as an irritation, like a swarm of gnats by the riverside at night. It was not an analogy he liked to consider, yet he had to be truthful. And if he was that much of an annoyance perhaps he could make it up to her.
Make it up to her by having to be rescued. Allen knew his courtship had started off very badly and only promised to get worse the more time passed.
Monroe was outside, scanning the landscape with a small pair of binoculars Allen did not know he had. Emerging into the vast outside world, Allen was taken aback and could not imagine how anyone would want to lessen the greatness of what was spread before them by focusing on something so small. The mountains rose darkly like giant stone sentinels, watching over the twisting, meandering valleys flowing below. There was a sticky mist to the air following the storm, and the humidity of the air was returning now the chill mixture of the storm and night was over. Allen could see where water had torn down massive chunks of the mountains, and he could see where a slurry of dirt and rock, even a scattering of trees, had brought down the mountainside in a sludgy mess. He could hear the distant roar of waves crashing on rock, and knew the storm itself had been strong enough of late to have formed those rivers.
“Morning,” Allen said, taking a deep breath of the fresh mountain air.
Monroe made a noncommittal sound and Allen began working through some stretches, noticing that Monroe was no longer using his makeshift cane. Last night Monroe had insisted on bandaging his own wound, although as Allen looked it over from behind he could see no sign of blood saturating it. That was good, considering they didn’t have any bandages and were just using strips of cloth, but it also made Allen pause with a frown.
“This isn’t good,” Monroe said, lowering the binoculars and turning to Allen at last.
Deciding to test a theory, Allen reached into a pocket and accidentally dropped the locket he had found the night before. It skittered close to Monroe’s feet and the Professor bent to collect it for him.
Easily bent the knee which had caused him to hobble all yesterday afternoon.
Monroe handed the trinket back and as Allen took it he accidentally banged his knee into Monroe’s. There were a lot of accidents this morning. Monroe did not even flinch.
“How’s the leg?” Allen asked acidly.
Confusion flashed across the Professor’s face; then he realised what Allen meant. Allen could see the older man was considering putting the limp back on, but said instead, “All right, you caught me. I wanted to see the dinosaurs and didn’t fancy returning to camp straight away.”
“Why you ...”
“And it’s a good thing I did. Look.”
Allen’s anger turned to confusion when he realised he was being offered the binoculars. He looked from them to Monroe, and back to the binoculars. Then he snatched them and concentrated his gaze across the mountains.
“Here,” Monroe said, lowering them slightly. Allen bit back his retort, but all his anger drained from him as he recognised what he was seeing. It was a streak of unnatural blue on the otherwise red/brown rocky landscape.
Removing the binoculars, he could just make out
the blot of colour with his naked eye.
“That’s our motorbike,” he said.
“Yes. And since neither of us brought it out here, I think we know what that means.”
Allen’s heart thundered. “Sara.”
“She came after us, lad. And the storm got her last night.”
Allen rounded on him sharply. Monroe looked guilty, and he had every reason to. Allen felt like shouting, kicking his leg to make it really limp, pushing the man down the cliff; but none of it would accomplish anything. Monroe had lied and now Sara Garrel may well have paid the price. Attacking Monroe would not bring her back, and if there was a chance of saving her Allen would need him.
“I’m going down there after Sara,” Allen said, his tone brooking no argument. “I want you to head back to the camp and tell Professor Travers what’s happened.”
“Allen, I ...”
“Save it, Professor. Sara could be dead because you were playing the wide-eyed boy searching for his dinosaurs. Do the decent thing for once.”
Monroe hung his head and Allen could see he genuinely did regret his actions. It did nothing to bring Sara back, however, and Allen could not forgive him until he had found her alive and well. “I’ll gather some proper equipment,” he told Allen, “and return to help find her. If she’s still alive, we’ll rescue her.”
Allen felt like keeping the binoculars just to spite him, but they would be extra weight and he needed to travel as light as possible. He did not see whether Monroe left in the direction of the camp, but had to assume the man had some decency left to him. His attention had to focus exclusively on Sara Garrel if he was to save her, and as he set off down to where the motorbike lay he felt his own pang of guilt tug at his heart. He had desired a way to prove himself to Garrel, had not wanted her to have to rescue him. That she might herself have fallen into danger, might be lying bleeding to death at the bottom of a ravine or drowned by the torrential rains ... It was not what he had wanted, yet at the back of his mind he knew it was just what he had been wishing for.