EIGHT
I
Below Speranza Station
Bering Sea
Ten Miles Northwest of Wales, Alaska
65°47′ N, 169°01′ W
The pain wrenched Hart back to consciousness with a scream on her lips. She tasted blood in her mouth. Felt a throbbing pain in the back of her head. Attempting to reach for it summoned a new level of pain in her shoulder, the silhouette of which was visibly deformed. She let out a pitiful sob and listened to it echo off into oblivion.
Memories of the fall overwhelmed her.
She remembered sudden movement, bared teeth, and then the ground disappearing from underneath her. In her mind, she heard the crack that preceded the darkness and became acutely aware that she had absolutely no idea where she was or, more importantly, where whatever had attacked her might be.
All she wanted to do was cry but knew it would accomplish nothing. She never should have left the others. She never should have left the Congo, for that matter. She’d fallen victim to her own professional hubris and greed, the consequences of which were undoubtedly no less than she deserved.
Pebbles cascaded from above her and bounced off her chest.
Hart held her breath and listened. If it came for her now, there was nothing she could do to stop it. She watched the periphery of her light for the first hint of an impending attack, knowing that if she turned her head in the slightest, the motion of the beam would draw its attention. If having a spotlight on her forehead hadn’t doomed her already.
A slapping sound from somewhere above her and to her left. More pebbles skittered down the slope and clattered from her helmet.
She instinctively flinched and scooted closer to the rocks. If it didn’t know where she was before, it sure as hell did now.
Her light flickered and dimmed. She closed her eyes and summoned her remaining strength, which she invested in the act of sitting up. The pain increased exponentially, forcing her to bite her lip to keep from crying out. Her right leg rolled from the stone and swung out over the emptiness. The momentum nearly carried her over the edge. She was on a ledge maybe two feet wide and perched precariously thirty-some feet above the ground, which was little more than a hazy shape at the verge of her light.
Her eyes filled with tears. She wiped them away and looked uphill. She couldn’t see the trail she’d been following any more than she could tell how far she’d fallen.
Another slapping sound. This time from directly behind her.
Hart’s pulse pounded in her ears. She was certain she wasn’t breathing but couldn’t seem to remember how. There was an animalian smell, a heady musk that made her gut clench. She held perfectly still, knowing full well the fate that awaited her if she turned around.
A scraping sound, followed by a huff of air that ruffled her hair.
She thought of her backpack sinking into the mire, of the sharp climbing anchors and the flare gun, even of the ropes and harness, none of which would do her any good now.
A shrill scream from inches behind her head.
She cringed and resisted the urge to wipe the spittle from her neck.
The scream . . . it sounded almost like the bonobo’s anger call. The creature grunted several times in a way that reminded her of the threat barks they made when someone or something perceived as an aggressor entered their territory.
Hart cautiously turned her head just enough to peek back from the corner of her eye.
The animal hopped away and lowered itself to the ground. She saw it only in silhouette, yet there was no mistaking the disproportionate length of its arms compared to its legs. Wiry white hairs stood from its shoulders and pointed head. The beam reflected off the saliva on its teeth when it screamed. She saw the hint of long canines and protruding incisors, from which the lips receded all the way up the gums.
She turned even farther and it pounced up onto a boulder, flattened itself to its belly, and issued several long high-pitched screams.
“It’s okay,” she whispered.
Her light flickered and died.
It screamed again and alighted on the ground beside her in the darkness. She heard its agitated breathing, smelled smegma.
Her headlamp bloomed with an electric fizzle.
It slapped its hands on the stone, lowered its shoulder, and charged directly at her.
She barely had time to brace herself and took the impact squarely on her dislocated shoulder. The agony was beyond anything she’d ever experienced. She managed to curl into a ball on her side to keep from plummeting from the ledge. She shouted and clung to her shoulder. She could feel the head of her humerus prodding the flesh above her breast.
The primate screeched and hopped back several steps. Beat its palms on the ground. Raised its arms over its head and released a blood-curdling scream.
Her light flickered. Once. Then again.
Hart had only seen this level of aggression in chimpanzees, which often thrashed the bushes with their fists or swung branches in seemingly blind fits of rage. They were also extraordinarily strong. She had no doubt whatsoever that this animal wouldn’t hesitate to attack again and send her careening to her death. She had to figure out how to keep that from happening.
Bonobos are sexual creatures and use copulation as a means of deescalating a volatile situation. Chimpanzees largely use facial expressions and gentle, reassuring physical contact. Gorillas use vocalizations and gestures. The only thing they all have in common are submissive postures, although every species utilizes them differently.
The animal screamed and feinted. It slapped the ground beside her head and hopped back up onto the rock, where it grunted and shrieked.
More cries from somewhere in the distance, weak and tentative.
Hart rolled onto her good forearm and knees, presenting her rear end in what she hoped it would perceive as a placating gesture. She hung her head and allowed herself to cry. The physical and emotional release was cathartic. Before she knew it, her shoulders were heaving and every ounce of despair poured out of her.
Whaah!
The primate’s scream was every bit as loud, but lacked the ferocity. Others answered it, much closer now.
She felt pressure on her lower back, felt the ragged nails at the tips of its long fingers. It grazed its hand along her spine several times before retreating with a startled hoot.
Her heart was beating so hard and fast she could hardly think. The blood roared in her ears. Her entire life had been building up to this one moment.
She slowly turned around, keeping her head down far enough to indicate submission, but high enough that she’d be able to see if it decided to charge again. With a whimper, she draped her forearms across the ground, palms up.
It approached slowly, tentatively. Took several steps on its short hind legs before dropping to all fours. Its arms were long and it walked on partial fists, its left shoulder turned toward her to shield the majority of its face.
Her light flickered and dimmed.
Its skin was thin and wrinkled and covered with a crust of the dried algae that must have transferred from the cavern wall. The fur on its arms and legs was maybe a quarter inch long and congealed into spikes. It grew much longer on its shoulders and over its genitals, which were definitively male.
She could only stare at his bare hands and feet as he inched closer. His digits demonstrated a level of dexterity beyond that of any primate she’d seen, and were it not for the valgus great toe and the relative length of the palm, they could easily be mistaken for humanoid.
He reached toward her and quickly retracted his arm. Shuffled closer. Reached as far as he could and ran his fingers through her tangled ponytail. They snagged and he gave a tug.
Hart slowly and deliberately unfastened her helmet.
The animal flinched but held his ground.
She rested the helmet on the ground beside her, removed her hair tie, and allowed her bangs to fall down over her face.
He stroked her hair. She could feel
his hand shaking and softly placed hers on top of it. He allowed it to remain there for several seconds before sliding his out from beneath it.
Wha-ahh.
She peered up at him from the corner of her eye and for the first time saw his face. His hair was long and smoothed back from the prominent ridge of his brow, beneath which were bulges in the seamless skin where his eyes should have been.
He must have sensed her surprise and lurched backward.
Whaah!
This time the answering calls came from directly above her. She looked up and saw several more of the primates silhouetted against the rocks.
They descended upon her as one. She lowered her head again, but not fast enough to shield herself from the first animal’s charge. He grabbed her forearm as the others assailed her from behind. There were hands on her back. Under her arms. Around her chest.
Her screams echoed through the cavern as her headlamp finally died and the darkness came to life with grunts and shrieks.
II
Calder caught a flash of recognition on Mitchell’s face before he killed his flashlight and the world went black. His hand fumbled for hers and held it tightly. The water churned around his treading legs. She wished she’d taken a bigger breath, but there hadn’t been time. She hadn’t heard the clicking sound until it was all the way out onto the ice. She’d seen a faint shimmer of light upon a sinewy body, ducked down beneath the water, and prayed she wasn’t too late.
Precious little light passed through the frozen chute separating the cavern from the Bering Sea, but once her eyes adjusted, the way it reflected off the icy walls allowed her to make out the vaguest details. The hole in the ice above her was clearly delineated, while the thin ice around it was opaque and seemed to advance before her very eyes, as though attempting to seal them in. The surrounding ice had to be a good foot thick. Comprehension dawned with a start; for the ice to remain so thin in that one section, either there had to be a localized source of heat, or something had to be physically keeping that passageway patent. And considering how the water was so cold it felt like it was killing the outer layers of the skin on her face, working its way deeper in an all-out assault on the bone—
Mitchell squeezed her hand to get her attention. He was little more than a ghostly outline against the darkness, yet his hand gesture was easy enough to read. He pointed straight up and she saw a shadow pass over the ice, which cracked as she watched.
It was directly overhead, separated from them by mere inches of ice that could give way at any second.
When she looked back down, he was holding his right fist to his chest. It was a signal all divers were trained to recognize, the universal sign that he was running out of air.
She pointed at her own chest to indicate that she wouldn’t be able to hold her breath much longer, either. Already there was a distinct heaviness in her lungs, and the diminishing oxygen produced the occasional sparkle in her peripheral vision.
The thicker ice overhead cracked with a sound she could hear through the water. Chunks floated down past her face before drifting away on the current.
Mitchell turned her hand over and pressed his flashlight into her palm. He jerked his thumb back over his shoulder to indicate a direction, then pointed the index fingers of both hands and aligned them one behind the other.
Go this direction. You lead; I’ll follow.
She made an okay sign with her hand, then pointed at him. In response, he drew his flare gun from his pack. She shook her head and jerked her thumb in the direction he’d shown her.
Mitchell squeezed her hand and drew her close enough that she could feel the weight of his stare, if not see it. He tapped the flashlight, held up his open hand, and then tucked his thumb to his palm. She nodded her understanding. He abruptly released her and gave her a gentle shove.
She swam with the current and started the countdown as he’d instructed.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
Calder clicked on the flashlight and immediately heard the ice make all kinds of snapping and popping sounds. She glanced back over her shoulder at Mitchell. He was completely inverted, his feet braced on the ice on each side of the hole, the flare gun pointed up between his legs. A dark shape passed over him and fire blossomed from the barrel of the gun. An orange glow filled the water as the flare streaked toward the surface.
Mitchell dropped the flare gun and pushed off in her direction as the fireball burst into the air.
She turned and swam as fast as she could. The orange glare waned and the cracking sounds returned with a vengeance, seemingly coming from all around her at once. She shined the light toward the ice in time to see fissures spreading through it. Whatever it was hadn’t taken kindly to their ruse.
The beam spotlighted a rock wall positively riddled with openings. She didn’t have the slightest clue where any of them led and was already consciously suppressing the urge to gasp for air. The tank on her hip would give her an additional fifteen minutes, but she equated its usage in her mind to starting the countdown on a time bomb. If she still needed to wear it when the clock expired, she was dead in the water.
There wasn’t time to choose. She swam toward the closest one and followed the beam inside. The current increased as the tunnel narrowed, propelling her faster. The walls were smooth and rounded, whether by eons of flowing water or ancient volcanic activity she couldn’t be sure. All she knew was that she was running out of air and every passing second brought her closer to utilizing the diving mask on her hip.
Her beam constricted ahead of her against a stone wall as she raced toward it. Panic set in. If this were a dead end . . .
Another tunnel opened overhead. She contorted her body and squirmed up into a larger body of running water.
The surface seemed impossibly far away. Her arms and legs grew heavier with every kick and stroke. She was already gasping for air when she breached the surface, inhaling saltwater directly into her lungs. She coughed and sputtered and barely moved out of the way before Mitchell burst from beneath the water.
He waved his arm madly toward where a rocky ledge overhung the bank. He managed to get three words out through the throng of coughing.
“Right . . . behind . . . me . . .”
Calder swam for everything she was worth. The edge was maybe twenty feet away and she reached it in seconds. The fragile limestone gave way with her first attempt, but she managed to boost herself onto dry land with her second.
Mitchell climbed up behind her and reached his feet at the same time. Behind him, she saw an almost serpentine shape speeding in their direction beneath the water, its tail whipping from side to side like a crocodile’s.
Mitchell pushed her from behind to get her moving.
“Run!”
She sprinted deeper into the cavern. The ceiling and ground were composed primarily of schist. They were sharp with crests and ripples and reminded her of the landscape of the moon. Irregular columns connected them where the limestone leeched through the denser rock, forming a veritable forest of calcite trunks. They cast shadows that swung wildly as she slalomed between them. She jumped over holes eroded into the ground and rocky crests that glimmered with frost. It was only marginally warmer and the condensation from her breath burned on her cheeks.
Clack-clack-clack-clack.
The sound was still some distance behind them, but the acoustics made it impossible to tell how far and she wasn’t about to turn around to find out.
The rear wall materialized at the edge of her beam. She swept her light from side to side. The columns had grown directly against the wall and cast shadows that looked like passageways until her beam caught them at the right angle and they vanished.
Her heart leaped into her throat.
There was no way out.
Clack-clack-clack-clack.
She veered right. Thirty feet from the wall and closing. There had to be a way through.
He
r lungs hurt and her legs were jelly. The cuts on her shins ignited with fire and she felt blood spreading beneath the Thermoprene. Whatever reserves she’d tapped to get her this far were nearly gone.
Clack-clack-clack-clack.
Her beam passed across an irregularity in the stone, momentarily giving it the impression of depth. The oblong opening was maybe teen feet wide and right up near the ceiling, easily five feet from the ground. Stalactites nearly concealed the opening and cast shadows like a closing mouth.
Calder didn’t even slow down. She jumped as she hit the wall and braced her elbows on the lip.
Mitchell got both hands under her butt and shoved her inside.
Clack-clack-clack-clack.
She turned around and pulled him deeper into the cave the moment he cleared the ledge.
The entire ceiling was spiked with stalactites, which made it impossible to stand. She could only crawl and even then the stalactites prodded her back.
“Turn off the light,” he whispered.
She did so immediately and welcomed the darkness.
Their harsh breathing echoed in the confines. It was going to give them away. She tried to hold her breath, but only managed to do so for several seconds, compounding the problem when she started breathing again.
Clack.
Clack.
The noise was right outside the cave. There was no mistaking it. She covered her mouth and nose with her hands in a futile attempt to muffle the sound.
A huffing noise. Then scratching on stone.
Beside her, Mitchell opened his backpack with the tic-tic-tic of a zipper slowly being drawn down its track. She cringed at the sound.
Frantic scratching from mere feet away as it struggled to claw its way up to the ledge.
Calder prayed it couldn’t reach them, that they’d be able to wait it out—
Clack.
She nearly sobbed in terror.
A huffing sound echoed.
Subterrestrial Page 19