Wait! Where’s Selena? He’d taken his eyes off her for barely a second. Now she was gone. Muldoon must have frightened her away.
“Look what you’ve done!” he yelled, shoving Gloria to one side. “Selena! Come back!”
“Hey! What the hell are you doing?” Gloria shouted, stumbling, almost tripping. Her left foot found a patch of crumbling soil and sank nearly three inches.
Ignoring her, Solomon picked up his pace. He was running headlong, kicking up dust; it was imperative, no, vital that he find his daughter.
•
Damn that Solomon Chavez! Gloria raced to catch up with him. Why did he want to get to Aaron before her? And who is Selena? To make matters worse, he pushed her aside like yesterday’s trash. But why would he not? Treating people badly was commonplace for someone like him. If he only knew the truth, he’d treat her much differently … Damn him! Perhaps she should tell him the truth. Perhaps she should shake his world to the very core. Yes … perhaps she should. But first, she needed to find her brother, Aaron.
•
Bram was finding it difficult to run in the protective suit. He peeled it off and dashed after the other two, wondering why they were so eager to find Jennifer. No! It couldn’t be Jennifer. She was dead. She’d been dead for decades … a millennia. So why was he seeing—
It’s an illusion! A psychic manifestation!
“Stop!” he screamed. “We’re being tricked by something in the forest!”
Gloria and Solomon glanced back at him, bewilderment in their eyes. Clearly conflicted, they slowed their pace.
“Listen to me!” he called out. The two came to a halt.
“What the hell are you talking about, Waters?” Solomon snarled. He had an intense, near frantic look about him.
Bram trotted up to them, his heart pounding. “Whatever you’re seeing isn’t real. We’re being tricked, shown an illusion, by a—”
At that moment, the ground beneath Bram gave way. A sinkhole opened up, swallowing him, Gloria, and Solomon, plunging all three into a roiling, choking darkness.
18
Sitting at her desk in the brig, staring bleary-eyed at the computer screen, Mona waited to see if her previous attempt to crack the fourth file would succeed. She’d tried every trick in the book to decrypt the damned thing but had been met with failure each time. It was frustrating to think that her beloved quantum computer might be outwitted by inbred descendants of a rebellious bunch of Jesus freaks. The algorithm used to encrypt the file was so complex it must’ve been designed by super-genius computer-geeks—not by hive-minded drones deluded enough to believe they talked to the Lord.
After thirty-eight hours of trying to crack the file, Mona was exhausted. She didn’t know if she’d be able to come up with another avenue of decryption to explore. The last few tries had been exotic, unheard of, and her brain was turning to mush. If this attempt failed, she might be able to dream up another exotic decryption program, but she feared her creativity was shot.
Leaning back in her chair, she rubbed her bloodshot eyes. She needed sleep—but she needed to crack the file even more—especially if she ever hoped to regain Solomon’s trust.
Perhaps if she put in a medical request for a low-dose psychedelic, her mind would open up to new possibilities of solving this dilemma. It wouldn’t be the first time mind-altering drugs had helped her overcome a scientific sticking point. In the meantime, strong coffee would have to suffice.
As she poured a cup of the hot, black brew, Richard Wagner’s “Flight of the Valkyries” started playing in the background. Some Jews detested Wagner (being Hitler’s favorite composer), but not her; there was something about this song that lent itself to dramatic moments. That’s why she always used it to announce when a computer program finished its work.
Mona promptly cut off the music and opened the mysterious file. Instead of a video, like the first two files, or a disturbing account from New Terra’s founding, like the third, the fourth file contained a document. She was a bit disappointed, but when she read the document, she realized that it was a manifesto—and a chilling one at that.
By the time Mona finished reading the manifesto, she was frightened, more so than any other time in her life … even during the attempted bombing of the Lake Victoria space elevator.
She knew what she had to do: Mona had to contact Admiral Axelrod immediately.
•
“Can’t this vehicle travel any faster?” Richard snapped, glaring at the chancellor.
She shook her head, grimacing under his withering stare. “I’m afraid not.”
Admiral Axelrod’s injuries were life-threatening, which meant that time was of the essence. Thankfully, the transport was equipped with medical supplies. Her wound had been packed with an amber-colored gel that stopped the bleeding, but Richard feared that without a prompt surgery she would die. The admiral was sedated and enclosed in an emergency medical chamber located in the rear cabin of the vehicle. The chamber was designed to stabilize movement and monitor a patient’s vitals during transport.
Floyd Sullivant sat beside the chamber, staring at the readings. “How much longer will it be before we arrive in the city?” he asked, not looking up.
The chancellor checked a reading on a nearby control panel. “Less than an hour.”
“Admiral Axelrod needs to be taken directly to our shuttle,” Richard insisted. “Release Dr. Singh and have him meet us there. I’ll pilot us back to the Arrow where he can perform surgery on the admiral.”
The chancellor gave him a questioning look. “She’ll never survive the trip into space.”
“I’ll take my chances,” he said, his eyes narrowing.
Floyd touched his shoulder. “I’m afraid she’s right, Commander. Even with the shuttle’s inertial dampeners, the admiral’s injuries are too grave to risk it.”
Richard rubbed his temple. “What about your medical facilities, Chancellor?” he sighed. “Are they up to the task?”
“Most assuredly. Our workers incur their share of serious injuries. Please, leave the admiral in our capable hands. She will be treated to the best care imaginable, and most likely come out feeling better than ever.”
Richard grunted. “Fine, I just wish this bucket of bolts would move faster.”
•
Coughing, Bram rolled over, pushed himself up on all fours, and shook his head. He was dazed but didn’t think anything was broken. The sinkhole was deep and cavernous.
“Dr. Chavez? Gloria? Are you all right?” he wheezed, inhaling another lungful of the musty, dust-filled air.
He received no reply. “Gloria! Dr. Chavez!” his voice echoed. No response. Because of the dusty gloom, he couldn’t see beyond his outstretched hand. Feeling around, Bram realized he was kneeling atop a pile of soft dirt. Then he remembered: the ground beneath Gloria and Solomon’s feet had collapsed as he arrived, sending them plummeting into the sinkhole a split second before he also tumbled in … his clothes had snagged on something during the fall, perhaps a root.
My God! Were Gloria and Solomon buried under dirt during the sinkhole collapse? Perhaps they were lying nearby, knocked unconscious from the fall. That’s when a horrible thought struck him: What if the deadly fungus was consuming them at that very moment? Despite the humidity, Bram felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
His head jerked back and forth, searching for threats, fully expecting a fungal tendril to shoot from the darkness and wrap around his throat. The dust was starting to settle, but the surrounding gloom felt like an alien fist squeezing from all sides.
Bram knew he must calm down and help Gloria and Solomon, if possible.
After a lifetime of stress-filled situations, Bram knew what to do. He covered his mouth with his shirt, took a deep breath, then closed his eyes and forced out a weak psychic probe. There they were—faint signs of human life—buried a few feet away beneath the loosely packed soil. He was overjoyed, but also terrified. He knew that if they weren’t rescu
ed soon, they would surely die. Though Gloria and Solomon were only a few feet away, they were covered by more than three feet of dirt. They were unconscious, but together. Solomon had fallen atop Gloria and somehow managed to shield her from further harm. However, they had no air and both were suffocating.
Bram had to do something, but what? By the time he managed to dig them out from under all that dirt, they would already be dead. There was only one thing left to do, but did he have the strength? No matter—he had to try!
Scrambling in the direction of their intermingled auras, Bram focused his telekinetic abilities. He’d never moved this much material with his mind, but if he failed, he’d never forgive himself. Would the dampening effect of the forest foil his attempt? He hoped not.
Focusing his mind like a laser, he saw the first clumps of soil begin to move. Suddenly he heard something rustle behind him. Twisting at the waist, Bram thought he saw a figure standing in the shadows.
“Who’s there?!” he rasped, peering into the gloom. A ragged patch of dim light filtered down from above but not enough to see by.
Bram listened intently. He heard nothing; saw nothing. Was his imagination playing … but no … there was something there, observing him, something that, for the moment, felt benign.
Bucking up his courage, Bram faced the spot where Gloria and Solomon were buried. He shook his head, knowing he must focus on the task at hand; he must ignore the feeling of being watched. It took a moment before Bram could sense his shipmates. Both of their vital signs were fading; he must act quickly.
Some of the dirt began to move, but not fast enough. Something was interfering with his powers. At this rate, it would take all day. Whatever the cost, he was determined to push through the psychic barrier thwarting his abilities. Closing his eyes, Bram reached deep inside, drawing on a reservoir of psychic fortitude that lay dormant for two decades. Every worry disappeared, every concern faded, every thought other than his objective drifted away like dandelion seeds caught on the wind.
Using his mind’s eye, Bram watched as the loosely packed soil moved, parting like water before the prow of a mighty ocean liner.
Unbeknownst to him, the alien consciousness permeating the area took notice of his powers, and for the first time in eons felt a momentary ripple of fear. This human was unlike any creature it had ever encountered. The alien felt compelled to reassess the situation. Naturally, it would still devour the human and its two companions, but they weren’t going anywhere; it could study them at its leisure.
The only thing Bram knew of the alien’s decision was that he suddenly felt an easing of the psychic barrier that surrounded him. The dirt moved faster, but he took little comfort in this, given that his shipmates were teetering on the edge of death. The three feet of dirt separating him from Gloria and Solomon was roiling and churning then flying to either side of the mound. A trench formed, revealing two motionless and apparently lifeless bodies, with Solomon covering Gloria.
With the last of the dirt falling to the floor of the sinkhole, Bram leapt to his feet and dragged Solomon from the trench, with Gloria to follow. Dropping beside her, Bram hurriedly cleared her mouth and began to perform CPR. He’d scarcely begun when Gloria jerked, produced a violent cough, and then sucked in a ragged, lungful of air. Without pausing to assess her condition, Bram scrambled over to Solomon. He was checking the man’s mouth for dirt when Solomon’s eyes shot open, and he too launched into a succession of loud, painful-sounding coughs.
Confident they would both survive, Bram slumped in relief, feeling emotionally, physically, and psychically drained.
Spitting out a mouthful of dust, Gloria sat up and, shaking the grit from her hair, looked over at Solomon, her brow furrowing with anger. He wasn’t paying any attention to her.
“What … happened … Waters?” Solomon asked between coughs.
Bram shrugged. “It looks like we’ve landed at the bottom of a sinkhole, or possibly a tunnel of some sort.” He peered up, trying to estimate the depth of the sinkhole. “We’re a good twenty-five feet below ground. I don’t think we can climb out.”
Solomon examined the hole and nodded. With a huff, he climbed to his feet, reached into his pocket, and pulled out his PID. “Rosa, activate flashlight app.”
After helping Gloria to her feet, Bram activated his own flashlight app. Gloria did the same, and soon there were three beams of light cutting through the darkness. They stood in a cavern at the bottom of a pit caused by the sinkhole collapse. The roof of the cavern was four feet over their heads, and the hole leading to the surface stretched at least another ten to twelve feet higher than that. The cavern itself was sixteen to eighteen feet wide with seven tunnels leading off in various directions. Bram deduced that the tunnels had been formed after the tree’s huge root system had been away eaten by fungus, the thought of which gave Bram an apprehensive chill. Once again, he felt he was being watched.
“I hope the rescue party arrives soon,” he muttered.
Gloria was walking around, shining her light up at the hole. “If one of you gentlemen will lift me up onto your shoulders, I can stand and reach some of those exposed roots. With my survival training, I should be able to climb to the surface and—” A large clump of dirt came loose from the inner wall of the hole, causing Gloria to dodge to one side. “Dammit!”
“You won’t get halfway to the surface before you fall and break your neck,” Solomon cautioned.
“You don’t have to concern yourself with me, Dr. Chavez,” she snapped. “I mean, why start now?”
Bram noticed Solomon stiffen, his eyes narrowing.
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
Gloria appeared ready to respond with a caustic remark when her head jerked abruptly to the side and her eyes grew wide. “Good God!” she yelped, taking a step backward.
Bram and Solomon pointed their flashlights in the direction Gloria was staring. Bram gasped, shocked by the sight—a sight that struck terror unto his very bones. A huge, spider-like creature was situated in the opening of one of the tunnels leading away from the cavern. It hissed loudly before skittering forward a few yards on eight, hairy, multi-segmented legs.
Bram felt rooted to the spot. Spiders! He hated spiders!
Out of the corner of his eye he saw another one appear in a second tunnel to his right, then a third to his left, and then a fourth. They were being surrounded. Risking a forced, quick glance behind him, Bram saw that the three tunnels to their rear were still open, but for how long?
A loud pop nearly caused him to jump out of his skin. Gloria was pointing a pulse-gun at one of the creatures, which recoiled slightly when hit but wasn’t particularly fazed by the sonic pulse. Cursing loudly, she fired two more rounds—neither of which were any more effective than the first. However, the creatures did stop their advance.
“Damn, I wish I had my 9mm. Both of you get behind me,” she yelled.
Without hesitation, the two men complied. As Gloria fired off another two rounds, the three backed slowly toward the tunnels that remained free of the alien horrors. She fired off another round. As she did so, sprinklings of dirt began to fall from the ceiling.
“I thought your weapon was disabled in the birthing chamber,” Solomon rasped.
“It was,” Gloria said. “The sonic generator has a reset switch inside the handle.”
“It’s not doing much good. I’m beginning to think the sound of it might cause a cave in.”
Gloria looked up at the ceiling just as she was about to squeeze off another round. She eased off the trigger, afraid that Solomon was right—but she didn’t lower her gun. The creatures had stopped their advance and she wanted to keep it that way.
Glancing behind him, Bram wanted to make sure the tunnel to their rear was still safe. The sight of what stood in the tunnel’s mouth caused him to stumble. He grabbed hold of Solomon’s arm and, unable to speak, motioned for him to follow his gaze. The normally unflappable Chavez turned to look and was equally sta
rtled.
“What the …?”
Gloria, concerned by Solomon’s yelp of surprise, was in the process of turning around when she heard, “You must hurry and follow me, if you want to escape the monsters.”
Strange as it seemed, there in the mouth of the tunnel stood a female child.
•
Completely ignoring the anomaly of a child’s presence in the tunnel, Solomon and Gloria sprinted toward the adorable, smiling girl. Bram felt compelled to join them, but trailed behind, sensing that something was amiss. The little girl—her hair set in blonde ringlets and her knee-length, pink and white dress so clean—looked too perfect, too welcoming.
“Hurry up, Waters!” Solomon yelled over his shoulder. “The snakes are getting closer.”
As Bram picked up his pace, he wondered what Solomon was talking about; the vicious-looking spiders were the obvious threat. The girl was leading them somewhere safe; the tunnel must lead to the surface or to a secure location. It must.
His companions were a few yards away from the girl when she stepped into the darkness of the tunnel. Solomon and Gloria stopped at the tunnel’s mouth and directed their flashlight beams inside. Trotting up behind them, Bram saw the child standing twelve feet away at a branch in the tunnel, waving for them to follow.
“Better to be with her than end up as food for those foul creatures behind us,” Solomon stated as he entered the tunnel.
Not voicing any objection or apprehension, Gloria followed close behind.
The child once again vanished into the dark recesses of the tunnel. Bram tried to focus on her odd behavior, but his mind kept shifting to the eight-legged horrors closing in on them. He could normally focus his attention like a laser, but when he tried to concentrate on the child, his attention again shifted. He shook his head. Something’s not right, he thought. Gloria and Solomon rounded the corner after the child, not saying a word. With reservations, Bram followed. He was barely around the corner when he skidded to a halt, almost bumping into Gloria and Solomon who had also stopped in their tracks.
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