by JE Gurley
Myles removed his glasses again and scratched his temple with the earpiece. He grimaced and said, “Five days at least.”
Dax’s heart skipped a beat. “Five days! In five days, that creature could dig its way through a solid metal wall. It won’t much matter. We’ll die of thirst before then. We don’t have much choice. It’s either leave now or never. The question is which way – up or down?”
He disliked having decisions thrust upon him. Luckily, it wasn’t his to make. He had told Ivers he was in charge. In this instance, he would not go back on his word. His decisions had proved too costly. It was time to let someone else carry the burden. He turned to Ivers. “What do you say, Sergeant. Your call.”
Ivers scratched at his jaw for a few seconds wearing a somber expression, then said, “Down. Let’s load up and go.”
The pit of Dax’s stomach rumbled. He didn’t know if it was from hunger or from fear. His vote went to fear. It was all he could do to keep his knees from knocking. He would have chosen running for the surface. He didn’t like planets, and he liked being underground least of all, but he had abrogated his right to decide in favor of Ivers. He knew the danger, and he wasn’t happy about it. At least the decision was out of his hands. He wouldn’t get his hands any bloodier than they already were.
“Move it,” he snapped to the others. He handed Ivers the ion disruptor and reclaimed his laser rifle, then climbed into the ATV and laid the rifle over his lap. Tish took the seat beside him, looking almost as frightened as he was. Ivers crawled into the seat on the missile sledge. Plia drove with Romeo. Andy took Cici and Myles. He took a deep breath, strapped himself into the driver’s seat, and cranked the vehicle. He checked to see that the others were ready and shot out the entrance of the cul-de-sac at full throttle, leaving a plume of dirt in his wake. He jerked the wheel to the right and led the convoy deeper into the lava tube network.
Monsters, deep dark twisting tunnels, a blinding dust storm – this is not going to end well.
9
Cici had never been as frightened in her entire life. She had developed a debilitating fever from alien insect bites in a dismal swamp on Ferrell’s World and almost died from a high fever and dysentery. She had fallen into an ice crevice on the southern polar cap of Paton searching for lichen and waited two days for rescue. She had barely escaped trampling during a stampede of elephant-sized Shogun lizards on Kozumi III, but those paled in comparison to the dread she now felt. Two days of agonizing over the fate of her fellow scientists while waiting on the cargo ship, discovering a dark and silent station, and then the blood and the fight with the Raver – she expected to die at any moment. In spite of her fear, it never dawned on her to abandon the search for her friends until she was certain they were dead.
The headlights of the three ATVs and the sledge rolling over the uneven ground cast eerie moving silhouettes, reminding her of a Japanese Bunraku shadow puppet theater using the smooth walls of the lava tube as a paper scrim. While she had been down into the Catacombs on several occasions, it had never been so dark and foreboding. Lights strung along the ceiling had offered a streetlight atmosphere, and she had always come with a sense of discovery, not one of dread. With no power, the surrounding darkness was absolute, absorbing the edges of the headlights and floodlights as if devouring it.
She glanced over at Dax in the next ATV. His face was grim. He was intent on driving and did not look her direction. She had caught him staring at her breasts earlier and buttoned up her shirt to her neck. She was perspiring up a storm, but she didn’t want him ogling her. He confused her. She had never met a man like him in academia circles. He was self-centered, mulish, misogynistic, and a borderline coward; yet, he was not afraid to take charge. In spite of his obvious shortcomings, she found herself attracted to him in a purely physical way.
After months of living with men more interested in their careers than in the opposite sex, or men like Myles, who was too polite and well bred to make at pass at her, Dax was a breath of fresh air. Attractive, ruggedly handsome, and self-confident to the point of egotistical, he nevertheless exuded a kind of manly charm and sexual essence of an obviously alpha male. She understood Tish’s attraction to him and did not want to come between them. Still …
Butting heads with the captain of Fortune’s Luck, who refused to search the deeper tunnels, and Sergeant Ivers, who was more determined to kill the Ravers than search for her friends, had torn her up inside. Deep down, she knew they were dead, but she could not accept that two-thousand-year-old monsters had snuffed out their lives. It seemed too surreal to be true. People died from accidents, disease, old age, and, rarely, killed by others, but to die in such a horrible manner … it sickened her.
She mourned for Gregor Pavlovich. She suspected the others were dead as well, but he was the only one of whom she was certain from his message left in the sanctuary. Her determination to search further arose more from her unwillingness to accept their deaths than from hope of finding them alive.
The ATV in which she rode took a wild swerve to avoid a pile of debris. She held on with both hands, as the rusty rebar thrusting like a dead plant from the concrete rubble shot by centimeters from her elbow. She glanced at Myles. He sat immobile, upright in his seat with a dazed expression, rocking with the motion of the vehicle, but paying scant attention to their surroundings. She worried for him. Intent on remaining unfazed by events to retain his air of British poise, she was afraid the next horror they faced would break him. She had thought him the strong one. Now, she felt compelled to offer him comfort.
“Myles.” When he did not respond, she repeated his name louder. “Myles.” He blinked several times and turned to look at her. “Are you all right?”
He opened his mouth to say something, but then shut it. After a few seconds, he said, “I feel cold, Cici.”
“Cold?” It was 35 degrees Celsius inside the tunnels, a blustery summer day in Tucson, Arizona, her hometown. She perspired heavily. The dust thrown up by the vehicles stuck to her skin like dry rub spices on a pork shoulder. Beads of sweat poured down his face as well. “I don’t understand. It’s as hot as Hades down here.”
“Inside. I’m cold inside, Cici. I feel …” He shook his head. “We’re going to die down here.”
The tone of his voice and the finality with which he pronounced their doom alarmed her, as if he were calling down doom upon them. She shivered in spite of the heat. “We’ll make it, Myles. Just hold on. Captain Wyldd and Sergeant Ivers have a plan. You helped craft it, remember?”
He did not reply. Instead, he stared at her unblinking for several seconds before turning away and resuming his posture of indifference.
His fear and pronouncement of death reminded her of her naïve boasting to Dax about the rifle she held in her hands, after they had killed the Raver, the first weapon she had ever touched, thinking it would protect them. Knowing how little protection their weapons offered, she now had second doubts about her conviction to find her friends. That was not their main goal. Escaping was, but going deeper into the tunnels served her purpose. If any of her colleagues remained alive, they would be there.
She looked back up the tunnel. There, at the edge of darkness, something moved. She tensed. A Raver was stalking them. She glanced down at her hands and saw them trembling.
Oh, God. Myles is right. We’re going to die.
10
Dax didn’t have to turn to know the Raver was following them. He could almost feel its hot breath on the back of his neck. The top of his head burned from itching. He didn’t know how close it was until Tish glanced back. Her eyes grew wide, and her face went ashen. Her fingernails dug into his leg.
“Go faster,” she urged.
He maneuvered the ATV through an obstacle course of ruins and piles of rubble at breakneck speeds. He pushed the ATV to its top speed of 55 kph. Any little mistake would send them crashing into a solid rock wall or spill them on a tight turn, either of which could kill them. If the crash didn’t kill
them, the Raver would. The other vehicles kept right behind him, preferring the dangers of speed to what was pursuing them.
The creature took the easiest course, pushing straight through piles of debris or hurtling over them like a track star. It closed on them much faster than Dax liked. He pushed the vehicle for every kph he could, but the station had chosen the ATVs for their durability, not their speed.
The tracked sledge lagged behind the group. The overheated gearbox rattled like a dice cup at a casino craps table. Smoke billowed from the gasping engine. Dax knew the overburdened sledge would never make it. Its manufacturers had not designed it for high speeds, and it had almost ten-year’s wear on the engine. Even Nate could not perform miracles. At a bend in the tunnel heading down to Level 4, Ivers called him on the walkie-talkie.
“We’ll never outrun it. I have an idea.”
Dax dropped back beside the right side of the sledge. Without warning, Ivers raised his disruptor and fired a blast at a rock wall leaning precariously over the roadway supported by a makeshift framework of two-by-fours and planks installed by the K124 team. A neatly lettered placard read ‘L4 1652’. He assumed it was a grid marker for their records. They would not have approved of Ivers’ actions. The wooden two-by-fours splintered from the heat. Dax watched the wall falling, gunned the motor, and veered left to avoid it, slamming into the sledge. He hit the brakes to allow the sledge to pass. It shot by with Ivers staring at him in shock.
Dax immediately gunned the engine. Large rocks bounced off the vehicle, knocking it sideways into the buildings lining the left side of the tunnel. He jerked his arm inside the vehicle to avoid losing it, as the ATV brushed the wall. Dust and shards of rock peppered Dax’s face. A piece of fiberglass fender skirt ripped from the left front wheel well bounced off the roll bar. The wall collapsed directly behind them, almost engulfing both the rear end of the ATV.
“You almost killed us,” Dax yelled into the walkie-talkie.
“I didn’t see you drop back. I didn’t have time to explain.”
With a loud crash, dislodged stones fell from the makeshift blockade the fallen wall had created. The Raver hammered at it from the other side.
“It won’t hold long,” Ivers warned. He eased back on the sledge’s throttle, but the labored engine continued to sputter.
As they neared the tunnel leading back to Level 2, Dax noticed another steel door like the one on Level 3. As they drew closer, he saw the door was slightly open. Then, the door began swinging open wider. Raver. Dax spun the ATV to a skidding halt and pointed to the door. Ivers aimed the missile pod at it. Running wouldn’t save them. The Raver could catch them before they made it thirty meters. They had no choice but to face it.
“If it gets out of there, it’ll be all over us,” he told Ivers.
When he saw a shadow in the doorway, he took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger on his laser rifle. Ivers yelled, “Wait!” He started to curse the sergeant; then, he saw what Ivers had seen first – a human. The man staggered from the sanctuary room toward them.
“Help me!” he yelled.
Tish helped the man into the back of the ATV. Through the filthy, sweat-stained clothes and dirty face, Dax recognized Dr. Ambrose Rathiri, the station’s director. He looked like he had been through hell.
“Thank God you came,” he croaked. “I’ve been trapped three days.” Then he recognized Ivers on the sledge. “You were on the Abraxas. You transported the …” His face paled. “It woke up.”
“Both of them. They killed everyone on the ship but me.”
A muted gasp escaped his lips. He finally recognized Dax. “Captain Wyldd. Thank you for rescuing me.”
“We didn’t know anyone was left alive down here. We’re drawing the Raver to us to try to seal it in.”
“Draw … drawing the Ravers to you. That is insane.”
Something in the director’s voice made the hairs on Dax’s arm rise. “How many Ravers are there, Director Rathiri?”
Rathiri shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know. Fifteen. Sixteen. More. Stefani reported six or seven of the creatures left the cavern and headed east toward the remote station three days ago. I, I lost my radio somewhere. We have to warn them.”
“They’re here with us, Director. Jesus Christ! More than a dozen. We’re not getting out of here.”
“We can hide in the sanctuary.” He swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. His lips were parched and swollen. “Do you have any water or any food? I haven’t …” He began coughing.
“We didn’t bring anything. We didn’t think we would be staying. It doesn’t matter anyway. A dust storm is coming shortly. In a couple of hours, the dust will be too thick to see or breathe. It will last five days. We won’t.”
“Oh, My Lord.”
The other two ATVs came back to investigate. Cici leaped out and rushed to Rathiri. “Dr. Rathiri, you’re alive.”
“Just barely,” he replied, patting Cici on the back. “You’re safe.”
“What about the others?” she asked.
“Gregor left the lower level ahead of us to check on an experiment he was running. We were all down here except Stefani Wimbley who had station duty.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. I haven’t heard … You see, I lost my radio. I had it, but in all the running and hiding, I, I dropped it somewhere. It is good to see you, oh, and Myles, too. So good.” He wiped his mouth. “Do you have any water?”
Dax saw the lost look in Rathiri’s eyes and cringed. The director had witnessed horrors that would have driven lesser men insane and endured days inside a metal box slowly roasting in the heat. It was a wonder he could still function.
“What about the others?” Cici asked again.
Rathiri’s face twisted into a mask of horror. His lips trembled. His voice went up an octave. “It was horrible.” He shuddered, but then seemed to pull himself together. “We didn’t know what was happening until it was too late. We packed two specimens for the Navy, although I filed a former protest with the U.N. They should not have jurisdiction over a civilian enterprise.”
Cici placed her hand on his arm. “Go on, Ambrose,” she said gently. “What about Sira and Estelle?”
He blinked a couple of times. “I’m sorry. I was ranting, wasn’t I? The other two specimens we placed in a sealed examination tent. During the night, when most of us were excavating the new site, they, they just woke up and began slaughtering everyone – Sira Chang, such a lovely girl, Estelle Mavins, Bob Rosenthal, Lee Bivens, and Matsui Hokomida. Matsui shoved me out of the way of one of the creatures. He died in my place.” He closed his eyes and shuddered again. “Rand Evans and I raced for the nearest sanctuary. Evans didn’t make it, poor lad.”
“Neither did Gregor.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.” He slumped forward. Cici caught him before he fell. “I’m sorry. I’m so very tired. I heard the vehicles and came out to warn you about the Ravers on the lower level.”
A large rock fell from the barricade Ivers had made with a loud thud, raising a cloud of dust.
“We have to go,” Ivers said. “Dr. Adar, get in the vehicle, now.” He pulled one of the mines from his bag. “I hate to use this now, but I have no choice.”
Seeing what Ivers was about to do, Dax made a momentous decision, one he hoped he lived to regret. “Give that to me,” he said. “The sledge is too slow.” He turned to Tish. “Get out.”
Her mouth opened as she stared at him. “I want to –”
He didn’t give her time to argue. “Go!” To Ivers, he said, “Take Tish with you. Get everyone out of here. Take the Luck … take the Luck and get off the planet.”
He didn’t wait for Ivers to reply. He snatched the mine from his hand and drove toward the fallen wall. No matter what he thought of the sergeant, everyone stood a better chance of surviving with him in control. He was a better shot than any of them were, and he had the ion disruptor. He had already proven he could fire the missiles as well as Plia, if not better.
One way or another, Dax was determined to keep his promise to his crew.
He had been wrong about searching deeper in the lava tubes. If the others had listened to him, Director Rathiri would have died alone and in the dark. No one should die in that manner. His decision to use the mine was an act of atonement, to make penance for killing Nate and almost killing Rathiri. He hoped it wasn’t an act of suicide.
As he approached, smaller rocks tumbled from the pile. One of the Raver’s claws protruded through a gap between larger rocks. In another few moments, it would break through and be on them. It stuck its maw up to the hole and chirped. This time, the series of calls sounded to Dax like someone conveying a lot of information. The chirps were of different durations and scaled up and down the frequency spectrum. He heard a few repeated patterns and knew they were not random calls.
He didn’t have time to think about what he was doing. He hit the activation switch, threw the mine at the pile of rocks, and drove away as quickly as he could, dodging piles of rubble at a perilous speed. Fifteen seconds later, the lava tube lit up like the inside of a tanning booth bed, throwing dancing shadows across the walls and floor. A wave of heat, funneled by the narrow lava tube, washed over him two hundred meters down the tunnel, singeing his hair, and blistering the exposed flesh on the back of his neck and hands. His ears felt as if they were melting from the heat.
The thermal mine produced little noise when it exploded, a muted pop like a giant’s knuckles cracking, but as the heat increased, the sound of rocks chipping from the ceiling and walls sounded like popping corn. Less than twenty seconds after detonating, a fifty-meter-long section of the roof at the center of the conflagration crumbled and collapsed. A cloud of hot dust pushed down the tunnel and enveloped him. He breathed in a lungful of scorching air and almost choked. During his coughing spasm, the ATV struck something in his path. It canted onto its left side, balanced on two tires for several seconds, before rolling over onto its left side and sliding to a stop. He hit the release for the harness and rolled out of the driver’s seat, spitting out a mouthful of dirt. He lay there for a couple of minutes racked by a coughing fit. When it subsided, he tried to stand but couldn’t. The roll bar had pinned his left foot between it and a large rock. He dug at the dirt with his bare hands, but it was too hard. The effort brought on another bout of coughing.