by Greig Beck
“Like you said, something a lot bigger than this. Whatever it was, it beat it when I shone my light over here.” He turned about. “That damn thing was in here with us.”
“I don’t like this.” Bruno’s deep voice had a brittle edge to it.
“Don’t worry, we’re a little big for anything to try and take down.” Wenton also turned about in the pitch-black cavern while resting his hand on the butt of his gun. He started looking for tracks or a sign of where the thing had gone. There were multiple exits from the cavern they were in, some large, some just hubcap size.
“Yeah, but if the lights ever go out, I don’t want to be down in these tunnels with something that big that is obviously a meat-eater. And can find you in the dark.” Maggie grimaced. “Let’s pack it in, Harry. We’ve come far enough. You’ve got your record.”
Wenton nodded. “Okay, might be prudent at this time. Let’s find a cave with an upward tilt.” He turned back to the carcass. “Love to bring it with us. Even just the head.”
“Please do not do that,” Bruno advised. “The meat-eater will track us if you carry fresh kill with you.”
Wenton looked at the man, knowing that was probably true and when they slept, they’d be vulnerable. “Don’t worry, I get it. It stays.”
“Let’s…” he turned to the caves and walked toward them, examining each before making his mind up. “This one.” He reached into his kit for some cave chalk and made a stroke on the rock. “Pathway one.”
They headed in.
*****
Hanging above the group were three pale bodies that were hugely muscled and whose noses twitched at the strange smells. Though their distended eyes were totally white, they saw an image of the pack of new animals as thermal red-orange glows in a bipedal outline.
From the tall creature’s exhalations, they could tell the new animals were carnivores, and potential rivals for meat. The pack saw them as one of two things: a threat or food.
After they had left, the creatures eased down to finish their meal. Then they would follow them.
CHAPTER 12
Jane couldn’t suppress the smile as she flew. From time to time, she turned her head to see the rock wall flashing past faster than she could pick out details. The air inside the tunnel seemed to move with them, so there was no sensation of speed or any friction to singe or scrape at their skin. But she knew they were traveling at enormous speeds.
They’d been plummeting downward for hours. From time to time, a blue flash of light was glimpsed as they soared past, but as soon as she spotted it, it was already long gone. Bioluminescence? she wondered. Or maybe some sort of rare mineral that fluoresced.
Michael in front seemed indefatigable, and she wished she could see his face. She bet it was split by a wide smile as boyish enthusiasm overtook any fears he had.
After more hours, Jane began to find that the hardest aspect was staying awake, as the warmth from the environment and the cosseting they got from the almost sensation-free gravity well was like a soft cocoon.
It was after 18 hours that Michael out in front led them toward a huge shelf of stone to their left side. As he approached its edge, the air became thicker and they automatically slowed, and then slowed some more.
From behind, Jane saw he opened his arms and looked like he expected to land like some sort of mythical figure alighting softly on his feet. But even though they had slowed considerably, they still came in too fast.
Michael hit first, trying to run along the ledge, and fell, the others like train carriages all piling up behind him. Caving suits got ripped, elbows and knees skinned, and it was only due to their caving helmets that no one got a concussion or a skull fracture.
After they rolled for a few more seconds, Michael finally lay still, stayed down, and began to laugh. He turned to her. “What a freaking rush.”
Jane sat up. “Is everyone okay?”
Angela groaned and hobbled to her feet. “Great landing. What happened to, we’ll slow as we close in on the sides?”
“We did.” Michael got to his feet. “But just by not as much as I expected.” He stretched and rubbed one of his shoulders. “We’ll get a few hours sleep here, take some food, and then start again.”
They sat around in a group, a few talking, and all blindingly tired. David lifted bloodshot eyes.
“How far do you think we’ve come?”
Michael smiled. “Well, we’ve been at it for around 18 hours. And if we reached speeds of between 200 and 250 miles an hour, then I’d say we’ve come about 4,000 miles—over halfway.”
“It seems impossible.” David rubbed his face.
“It will continue to do so until we reach the end. And there we’ll see what we see,” Michael replied.
He turned to watch Ronnie for a few moments. He was the only one in constant motion. He continued to rub, scratch, and constantly worked on himself.
The poor guy, he thought. He could see that he was already coated in iodine, but whatever he was afflicted with was fighting back. He just hoped he improved.
After another few moments, they each stretched out on a flat surface, packs for pillows, and tried to make themselves comfortable. The air was warm, but not unpleasant, and slightly thick and humid. It smelled of ozone, but little else.
Jane went and lay by Michael. “Why aren’t we dead? Forget about the heat—why isn’t the pressure at these depths squeezing us down to something the size of a walnut?”
Michael waved his arm around. “These gravity wells.” He turned. “I’m betting they’re all over the globe and act like pressure valves, gently releasing the compressive forces.” He smiled and shrugged. “It’s my theory anyway.”
“Best and only theory I’ve heard.” She smiled in return. “This all makes me kind of nervous and excited. And I wonder what else Katya was telling the truth about?”
“The red sky, the ocean, and the strange animals?” He nodded. “I can’t wait to find out.” He stretched out and put an arm under his head. “Got to get some sleep…if we can.”
Jane lay down as well. But images of a vast blood-red sea populated by huge beasts haunted her until sleep finally came and took her.
*****
Michael woke to muttering and curses. His eyes came fully open and he sat up. He suddenly remembered the strange spider-like things and kicked himself for not leaving someone on watch.
They had left a single lamp on, but he also flicked on his lights and looked one way then the other. But there were no intruders, human or otherwise. Just Ronnie facing away from the group, writhing and cursing as his hands moved over his body, hooked into claws as they raked his skin through his clothing.
“What’s up?” Jane looked at him, hair mussed, and with one eye closed.
“Ronnie’s having a nightmare, I think.” He got to his feet and carefully picked his way through the group.
Jane rose and followed close on his heel, and only when she got closer did she use her wrist light.
First thing they saw was that his fingers had actually started to shred his clothing. Plus, the tips of his fingers as well by the look of the blood streaks.
“Ronnie,” she said softly.
The man was still facing away from them and shuddering as though either laughing or crying. She placed a hand on his upper arm.
“Ron, Ronnie…” she grabbed his arm to shake him and felt his doughy flesh.
He rolled over.
“Ack.” Jane pulled her hands away from him.
“What the hell is wrong with him?” Michael stood over the man, his hands hovering but not touching him.
At his front, Ronnie’s clothing had burst open in several places, showing large unnatural lumps of swollen red tissue, as if something was trying to break out of him.
“His…skin,” Jane stammered.
What was worse was his face and hands were crowded with green knobby growths connected by ropey veins.
“David, get over here!” Michael yelled.
Ronnie groaned and opened his mouth, but it was impossible to see his throat or tongue as they were hidden behind swollen things, just guttural sounds emanating from within.
“Oh God.” Angela was behind them now, with the others rousing with the commotion.
Angela gripped Michael’s arm. “The water from the pool. It looks like the same stuff that was at its edges.”
“That’s impossible,” David said.
Ronnie sat up, and his eyes were half-lidded and dull. He grabbed his torso and his mouth opened wider. His lips moved, but instead of words, a thick gush of greenish paste came forth and slapped greasily down on his stomach and groin. Oddly, instead of it splashing, it remained solid and stayed attached to the inside of his mouth.
Then to everyone’s horror, the mass actually moved and clung onto him.
“It’s alive! It’s alive!” Jane backed away. “Something’s living in him.”
“Get back everyone.” Michael threw his arms wide, keeping everyone behind him.
The thick pulpy matter oozed from his nose and ears now, and the man’s arms dropped by his sides. His stomach gurgled and roiled and his entire frame swelled up, looking now as though there were small animals fighting inside it.
Ronnie fell back and his body shuddered, and then its outline became frayed before it simply lost its integrity. Ronnie…just…liquefied to become a huge, thick, green puddle with some tattered clothing at the center.
David’s eyes were wide. “I’ve…I’ve never seen or heard of anything so aggressive.”
Angela sobbed. “Ronnie, poor Ronnie. I told him not to drink the water.”
“Could it be contagious?” Jane asked.
“I don’t know, but I don’t want to find out. Let’s get out of here.” Michael ushered them back to their small camp and hurriedly began to pack his kit.
Jane stared at the growing pulpy pool. “What about Ronnie? Should we bury him?”
“No, Ronnie is gone.” Michael stood and lashed his kit tight on his body. “We shouldn’t even take a chance of touching it. Or even going near it.” He looked from the mass to Jane. “If it is a fungus, it might produce spores that could adhere to us. Or we inhale.”
Jane placed a hand over her mouth and nodded.
“What even does that?” Angela pleaded.
“Nothing. Nothing we know of.” Jane backed away.
“And what do you mean spores?” Angela’s lips trembled.
Andy was all ready to go. “It means they could float off that crap and get in our noses, eyes, lungs. And infect us too.”
Angela’s mouth snapped shut and she looked like she held her breath. David, Jane, and Angela were ready at lightning speed. In moments more, they were all lashed together again. Michael moved to the edge of the stone shelf and took one last look at the solidifying mass that had been their friend.
“Goodbye, Ronnie.”
He jumped, pulling the others with him.
CHAPTER 13
“Mr. Wenton.”
Wenton stopped and turned. “What is it, Bruno?”
“I think we are being followed.” The Russian ex-military man looked briefly over his shoulder and then back to the man.
“Who by?” Wenton frowned.
Bruno just stared.
Maggie frowned. “Are you sure? I didn’t hear a thing.”
Jamison looked back the way they’d come and crowded in a little closer to the group.
“Softly, like they’re stalking us.” Bruno squinted back into the darkness. “I think so.”
Wenton walked past the group to stand by Bruno and stared back the way they had just traveled. “People?”
“Seriously? What sort of question is that?” Jamison demanded. “What makes you…?”
“Shut it,” Wenton bossed. He turned back to the Russian. “Well?”
“They are not people,” Bruno replied emphatically.
“What?” Maggie asked softly.
The stocky man turned to her. “No, I don’t think what is following us is a person. The footfalls are not…” he made a walking motion with his hands.
“Bipedal?” she asked.
“Yes, bipedal, two feet. I think comes on four.”
“Oh shit, those things we saw in the cave. They’re tracking us now.” Jamison grimaced. “We need to get the hell out of here.”
“And we will,” Wenton replied. “Everyone, stay in tight. Bruno, cover our rear. Jamison, lead us out, but don’t get too far in front. Everyone, stay sharp.”
The gangly youth shot off into the darkness.
“Hey, not that fast.” Wenton made a noise in his throat. “So much for staying in tight.”
The group moved quicker than they should have in a cave that could have had drop-offs suddenly opening in front of them and falling away for hundreds of feet.
“Watch out.” Jamison was waiting for them and threw his hands up to slow them.
“Damn it, this is exactly why we don’t run in caves. Have you forgotten everything?” Wenton was about to give the kid another blast but noticed the piles of discarded clothing and kit. “Hey, what’s all this?”
He walked toward the clothing and crouched, quickly sorting through the piles. He found some of the bags and equipment had labels.
“This belonged to Angela Andrews, one of Michael Monroe’s group.” He stood, holding the T-shirt, and then looked around the cave.
“Why’d they leave their spare gear?” Jamison toed one of the piles. “Did they need to lighten their loads?”
Maggie walked to the edge of the pit. “I’m betting so they could rappel down into there.”
Wenton walked around the perimeter of the large hole in the cave floor. “I’m not so sure—there’s no bolts sunk in anywhere and no footholds. I don’t see any way to get down.” He looked up at the cave ceiling for a moment, looking for spikes, expansion bolts, or even remnant carabiners. “Nothing.”
Bruno was leaning into the cave mouth they had just exited from. “I think our other problem has not gone away.”
“Damnit,” Wenton spat.
“What do we do, try one of the other entrances?” Maggie lifted her wrist light and pointed it, scanning more of the caves leading in to them.
“Hurry,” Bruno pressed, and then worryingly, drew a long knife from a scabbard on his belt.
Wenton tried to think—the deep cave in the floor must be the answer, but he had no idea how it could be.
Bruno lifted his blade, held it before him, and stood across the cave mouth.
“Shit!” In frustration, Wenton balled-up Angela’s T-shirt and threw it at the void, expecting it to flutter down into the darkness. Instead, it hung in the air.
They stared.
Jamison walked closer. “What’s going on here?” He stretched a long arm out over the hole and waggled his fingers. “The air feels…strange.” He leaned over, looking down. “There’s no movement of air, and nothing that would cause…this.”
“Well, something is causing it.” Wenton stretched his own hand out and grabbed the T-shirt. He dragged it to his face and sniffed. There was no strange odor like some sort of fuel or gas infusion.
“Now I think we know where Monroe’s team went and how they went,” Maggie said. She put her hands on her hips and turned to them. “What do you think?”
Wenton turned about and saw that Bruno had squared up, shoulders hiked in front of the cave they had come from, and was staring intently into it, his long blade held out at chest level. The guy was ready to fight.
“What do I think? I think we first need to be as light as possible.” Wenton pulled off his pack and began to discard anything he didn’t think he’d need. He looked up. “Everyone, quick, lighten up—essentials only.”
They snapped to it, and Jamison slowed when he came to the boom box.
“What about the dynamite?”
Wenton squinted for a moment, thinking. The box contained several quarter sticks of dynamite in short, red, paper-rolled tubes. T
hese smaller-scale explosives were used to move tiny amounts of rubble out of the way. But in the box were also eight sticks of full-sized commercial dynamite. It was treated with respect, as it was shock-sensitive. Normally, you couldn’t legally buy a stick of dynamite unless you had a demolitions expert license. But Wenton knew people. If he needed to open a cave or widen one, he needed the right tools.
“Leave it,” he said. “Wait. Give me three sticks of the big stuff and a few quarters. You never know, right?”
Once done, they all looked to him, waiting.
“What now?” Maggie asked.
“We follow them.”
“How?” Jamison frowned.
Wenton’s heart hammered. I’m insane, he thought. He closed his eyes and stepped out.
“Holy shit, Harry,” Jamison breathed out.
Wenton opened his eyes. He floated, suspended in the air over the dark pit. He swung his arms in a breaststroke and edged back to the side.
“That’s how they did it. Somehow, gravity has been nullified or counteracted in the chute. They traveled, downward.” He beamed.
“To where?” Maggie asked.
“Mr. Wenton? Our time is up.” Bruno’s face was pale in the light.
“To wherever that isn’t here,” Wenton said. “Maybe they were fleeing the same things we are. Or maybe this is where they wanted to come all along.” He got to the edge. “I suggest we follow them. Now.”
Jamison looked over his shoulder to Bruno. “Count me in.” He moved closer and leaned on a large rocky outcrop.
Maggie and Bruno agreed, and Wenton moved to the edge, sucked in a lungful of air, and leaped.
******
The creatures burst into the cavern just as Jamison was the last to vanish into the dark hole. They immediately set on the clothing and packs, being intoxicated by the warm salty smells of the humans, and especially the bottles of urine.
One jumped to the rocks where Jamison had perched, then another, and a huge boulder that creaked under their weight became loose.
None of them would follow the bipeds into the hole as if they knew what was down there. As they skittered away into the depths of the cave, much of the group’s belongings were scattered and the box of dynamite was kicked over the side where it began its long descent after the people.