Subterranean

TWENTY-FOUR

ASHLEY TOOK A STEP BACK, WONDERING IF HER EARS were playing tricks. How could this creature speak English? It had to be a coincidence, a common series of sounds that just happened to match an English word.

"Death," the old silver-haired creature repeated, pointing his stick and shaking it at her as if trying to get her to understand. He then planted his staff and leaned heavily on it, a saddened set to his shoulders. "Dobori dobi!" he finally said in a tired voice.

At his words, a gasp arose from around her, igniting a scurry of commotion. The few curious onlookers who still thronged around her scrambled away, disappearing into cave openings, cloth flaps quickly drawn across entryways. Not a single face peeked around a corner.

Only a scattering of the small creatures remained-those armed with diamond spears. And even these warriors shifted their feet nervously.

Ben spoke up beside her. "Ash, we've got trouble."

She glanced at him; his eyes were huge. "Ben?" she whispered, feeling exposed under the eyes of the creatures. "What do we do?"

"Hell if I know. You're the anthropologist."

"Maybe we should-" Ashley was interrupted by a firm stamp of the old creature's staff on the rock, demanding their attention.

"Dobori dobi!" The creature boomed, pointing at Ben with a long crooked finger. Then he turned and hobbled away.

"Wait!" Ben called.

The creature turned to face him, but it took much effort. He was obviously exhausted, coughing raggedly and leaning heavily on his staff.

With large, moist eyes, he stared back at Ben. He lifted a finger and placed it at the tip of his ear, then lowered his finger to the center of the design painted on his chest, just above his heart. He turned away and thumped across the empty rock to vanish into a cave opening.

"Ash, what do you make of that?"

"I'm not sure. He was trying to tell us something. But who knows what?" She swallowed hard, trying to dislodge a solid lump that had stuck in her throat. She swiveled around to check behind her. Nothing. She and Ben stood alone at the edge of the yellow fields. The cliff walls that contained the village cupped around them.

Swinging back around, she counted ten guards who remained out in the open, stationed at the ramps that led up to the second level of dwellings. No guards blocked them from just heading out into the fields.

As she was about to suggest that maybe they should just leave, try to find their own way back across the fields, a deep booming erupted from the cliff face, rhythmic and slow. The low resonant throb cut to her diaphragm, vibrating through her as if she were a plucked bowstring. She knew even if she crammed her fingers in her ears she would still feel the sonorous beat.

"Drums," Ben needlessly explained.

She nodded. "Cultures use drums to mark ceremonial rituals." She turned to stare again across the yellow fields. Especially rituals of death, but she left that unsaid.

Ben, though, knew what the drums meant. Hell, he had watched enough Tarzan movies to know the natives were restless. Still, a strange calm enveloped him. He knew his heart should be racing, and his palms should be clammy with fear. But no, instead he felt detached as if viewing events through another's eyes. Ever since the old man had touched his finger to his chest, a sense of peace had descended upon him.

With each new drumbeat, odd thoughts intruded upon him, almost as if the drums spoke to him. Boom… Death approaches. Boom… Survive and live. Boom… One way out. Boom… Prove your blood.

"Ben?" Ashley's face appeared before him, seeming to appear out of nowhere, her voice tiny when compared to the call of the drums. She waved a hand in front of him. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He shook his head. "Just trying to think."

"You were mumbling something. Something about blood."

"It's nothing."

"Are you sure you're all right?"

"Considering our predicament, I'm peachy keen." He offered her a weak smile, hoping she would swallow his lie, while wondering himself just what the hell was wrong with him. "I'm fine," he repeated.

Still she wore a worried expression on her face. "Any idea what they might be planning?" she asked while searching the cliffs for movement.

He shrugged. There might be any of a number of ways the creatures could murder them: rush at them with spears, drop boulders on them, sic those wolf creatures on them, let those damned leeches suck them dry. Who knew? He rubbed at his temples. Oddly enough, he did know. They would be attacked by air. Death approaches. But just how the hell did he know this?

He turned around and searched the skies above the fields, trying to see if anything was visible. Nothing but glowing fungus roofed the world. But he was sure. He even knew from which direction. He squinted his eyes to the left. Then he saw them, black specks against the greenish background glow, approaching swiftly, growing rapidly in size as they closed the distance. He pointed. "Over there, Ash. Do you see them?"

"What? Where?"

He tilted her chin until she was looking in the correct direction. "The drums must be calling them," he said. "My guess is they're acting like a dinner bell."

"What are they?" she asked.

"Something hungry. 'Cause they're coming in bloody fast!"

Ashley pointed to the gun at his waist. "How many bullets did you say you have left?"

"Only two." He scanned the horizon, counting the flying black figures. Larger than specks now, their wide wings could be seen beating the air. "I'd say there's a flock of at least fifteen aiming our way."

"So we can't shoot our way out." Ashley eyed the fields. "Maybe we could run for it. There are no guards out in the fields anymore."

"No, we'd be just sitting ducks out there. We need to find cover." Ben turned to the village. The drums had increased in fury, pounding wildly, making it harder to think clearly. He surveyed the village. All the dwelling openings were now securely covered with thick drapes. Nervous guards stationed at the ramps watched him with narrowed eyes, clutching spears tightly. No guards stood between him and a handful of openings on the ground level. He nudged Ashley and nodded to the six black openings. "How about we take cover in one of those?"

"Will the guards let us? Those spears don't seem too inviting."

"Notice they're only guarding the way up. These dwellings," he said waving an arm to encompass the six black openings, "are uncovered and unguarded."

"We'd better take a chance, then. Look!"

Ben swung around. "What the hell are they?" The flock had approached close enough to make out details. Leathery wingspans spread several yards wide, armed with hooked black beaks and ebony talons longer than his forearm. And their eyes! Black dull orbs, unblinking, like those of a great white shark.

"Some flying predator! A descendant of the pterodactyl, maybe," Ashley said, tugging on his arm. "Let's go. They're almost on top of us. We need cover."

He tore his eyes from the approaching flock, now only fifty meters away. "Run!" he hollered as he pushed her forward. The guards made no move to stop them.

The drums suddenly stopped, the frantic pounding ceasing in a single beat, leaving only a heavy silence. He hurried his pace, struggling to keep up with Ashley.

Behind him, he heard a loud thud followed by several others, like boulders crashing to earth. The flock had landed, screeches erupting from several throats.

Ahead, Ashley had almost reached the closest opening, the five remaining black holes spread farther along the wall. Suddenly he remembered the message from the drums, almost like the words blazed across his mind's eye: One way out! He again studied the six openings. Six! And only one way out! He noticed a small carving above the entrance Ashley was driving toward: a circle with a triangle within it. Not the correct symbol. Wrong way!

He sped faster and tackled Ashley as she tried to duck into the opening. He rolled across the floor, jamming his shoulder as he cradled her from the fall.

She struggled free. "What're you doing?"

"No time!" He pushed up, yanking her with him. "Follow me."

"Ben! Behind you!"

He swung around, pulling his pistol free as he turned, knowing what he would find. It stood taller than an ostrich, but unlike the thin-necked bird, it was all muscle and beak. It lunged at him, striking low, trying to gut him with its hooked beak.

Bloody hell! He was getting damned tired of things trying to eat him. He fired two shots into its skull, the last at almost point-blank range. "Bugger off!" he screamed, ducking away, pulling Ashley aside.

With Ashley in tow, he sprinted across the cliff's base, searching for the correct symbol. Behind him, the beast's carcass was attacked by the others. Hot blood splashed across the back of his legs as he ran. He prayed the body would buy them the time they needed.

He continued to search. The next opening had a squiggling line with a circle atop, the next a crooked arrow, then a circle within a circle, like a doughnut. Wrong, wrong, wrong! He rushed past these openings.

Then he saw it! Carved above the next tunnel was a crude star. Like an explosion in his brain, he pictured his grandfather in his dream cave, beckoning him inside an opening with an identical star. This was the one way out!

He flew into the opening, dragging Ashley with him. As he tumbled into the hole, he almost crashed into a figure standing just six feet from the opening. There was just enough light to make out the design painted on his chest as he leaned on a staff. Teetering, the old man raised a tiny hand and rested it on Ben's shoulder. He growled thickly, but the words were understandable: "You are one of us."

Ashley untangled her hand from Ben's grip. What was going on? She stepped aside as the old one waved his staff to clear room. Using his staff like a crutch, he stomped between them and crossed to the lip of the entrance. He waved them over to peer out.

"Ben?" She gave him a questioning look. He shrugged at her and joined the old man. Frowning, Ashley crossed to join them, having to hunker down to get a better view.

Outside, the flock of predators had finished cannibalizing their dead companion, leaving gore and bones strewn across the rocky floor. A couple of the winged monstrosities were trying to get past the guards and up the ramp to the habitats, but spearing lances kept them at bay.

A whistle sounded from somewhere to the left, and from the other five openings, a small procession of mewling, hoofed creatures burst forth, prodded out by spears held by other tribesmen. The creatures were similar in size to a small calf but more horselike in appearance, except for the sharp curling tusks. They reared and pawed at the rock, eyes rolling white with terror. Once free of the poking spears, they scattered, darting in all directions. Their motion caught the attention of the flock, and the horny-beaked creatures tore into the herd of hoofed animals.

"If we had chosen any other tunnel but this one," Ben muttered to her, "we'd be herded out along with those animals to the slaughter. It was a test."

Ashley started to turn her face from the carnage, but not before she saw one little animal zip away from the rest and freeze, wild-eyed, just outside their cave as it spotted her. She cringed as she saw a predator pounce from behind, its hooked beak swinging forward, intending to impale the tiny creature. The creature mewled plaintively at her, its eyes wide with fear. Without thinking, she darted from the cave, snagging the nape of the terrified animal's neck, and dragged it into the cave. "Then this little one gets sanctuary too," she said, gasping, as she led the small creature deeper into the tunnel.

The old man turned to her, his eyes wide with shock. With his back to the entrance, he failed to see the open beak plunging toward him. The foiled hunter was not going to give up its prey so easily.

Ashley opened her mouth to warn him, raising an arm.

But before she could utter a sound, the old man, without even glancing over his shoulder, swung his staff backward. The crack of staff against beak echoed loudly down the tunnel; there was surprising strength in those old thin arms. Still staring at her, he mumbled to himself and crossed to her, laying a hand on her shoulder. He then nodded to her and continued deeper into the tunnel, pausing only to beckon for them to follow.

A loud clangor erupted from outside, sounding like pots and pans banging together. Ben stepped away from the entrance and crossed to her. "Now that they're fed, the noise is driving those buggers away."

"Like so many trained parakeets," she said. She stood up and followed the old man; the little animal clopped after her, mewling quietly.

Ben eyed the hoofed creature. "You could've been killed."

She said sheepishly, "It was an impulse. I was thinking that if you hadn't chosen correctly, then that could have been us out there crying for help. I couldn't just leave it out there to die." The little animal bumped against her and nuzzled at her boot as she walked.

Ben put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. "I think you made a friend."

She leaned into Ben's arms. "Jason always wanted a pet."

Together they trudged down the darkened tunnel, lit only by occasional splashes of glowing fungus. After a few minutes, she said, "Now, tell me how you knew which was the right opening."

She felt him tense beside her. "Ash, you're gonna think I'm nuts."

"After this trip, I could believe almost anything." She stared at the back of the old creature, a creature who spoke English and whose tribe predated man by several million years. Yeah, she was feeling pretty open-minded right now.

"Okay." He took a deep breath. "Remember when I told you I had seen that symbol on the old bloke's chest before?"

"Yeah. Something about a dream of your grandfather."

"Right. Well, in that dream, my grandfather led me to a cave opening with the same symbol carved above this opening. He told me it was safe."

She stopped and stared at him. "Are you serious?"

He laughed weakly, pulling her forward. "We're alive, aren't we?"

"Have you had clairvoyant experiences before?"

"Hell, no. If I did, I wouldn't be in this trouble right now. I'd be basking in the Las Vegas sun, waiting for my next performance as Mr. Clairvoyant."

"Then why now?"

He squeaked out a nervous laugh, slipping ahead of her as they followed the old man. "I have an idea. But it's bloody creepy."

"What?"

"These dreams of this place… I've been having them a lot since I first got wind of this trip. They've gotten clearer and more frequent since we got down here."

"So you think it has something to do with the cavern."

"No, with him." He pointed at the old man's bare backside. "I think he's been communicating with me. When the drums began beating earlier, strange thoughts and words formed in my mind."

"Telepathy?" she said, pondering the implication. "But why only you?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. My Aboriginal blood, maybe?"

She stared up at his blue eyes and blond hair. "Considering your appearance, that blood is awful thin."

"Well, there must be enough."

"Why do you think it has anything to do with your ancestry?"

"The images in my dreams," he said, counting off his points on his fingers. "First, my grandfather appearing dressed in traditional Aboriginal garb. Then the recent recurrence of my childhood nightmare of the cave. Even the words from the drums-'prove your blood.' It all seems to point to some ability inherent in my ancestral blood."

She took a deep breath. Common sense and logic made her want to scoff at his claim. It had to be pure hogwash. Still, Ben had proven himself by selecting the right cave. She remembered a colleague who researched his doctoral thesis on Aboriginal tribes. "There is a lot of mysticism in Aboriginal lore. Spiritual walkabouts. Elders able to communicate over vast distances using dreaming pools. That sort of thing."

"Right," he said. "I thought it was mumbo jumbo myself. An Aboriginal friend that I used to cave with swore he had seen some pretty weird shit, but I never believed him."

Distracted, Ashley pushed the little hoofed creature aside as it tried to get underfoot. It bleated and took off down a side passage. "What's the connection between a previously undiscovered tribe of evolved marsupials in Antarctica and Aborigines in Australia?"

"Hell if I know. But that drawing you discovered in the cliff dwellings in Alpha Cavern-the oval with the lightning bolt through it-makes me wonder."

"What?"

"Remember when I told you I had seen them before? In Aboriginal cave paintings?"

She nodded. "Some sort of spirit guides of the Aborigines."

"Right, the ones who supposedly taught early Aborigines how to hunt. The Mimis."

The old man glanced backward at them. He mumbled something. "Gota trif'luca mimi'swee."

Both Ben and she looked at each other. "You're the telepathic one," she said. "What did he say?"

Ben shrugged and shook his head.

The old one seemed to sense their confusion and sighed heavily. He pointed at his chest. "Mimi'swee." He waved to encompass the entire warren of village tunnels. "Mimi'swee."

"I still don't get it," Ben said.

Ashley held up a hand. "Mee… mee… swee," she stammered, concentrating on the correct pronunciation. She pointed a finger at the old man.

His old neck creaked up and down; then he turned away.

Ashley stumbled in shock. This was impossible. "He was telling us the name of his tribe. The Mimi'swee," she said. Then, under her breath, she uttered, "Mimis, the Aboriginal rock spirits. They're one and the same."

Ben's eyes widened with sudden understanding. Before he could say anything, the tunnel emptied into a large cavern, lit by fungus on the walls and ceiling. Ashley stared in awe at the columns supporting the distant roof, but it wasn't the rocky colonnades that drew her attention. It was the thick growth that wrapped around the columns, sprouting white limbs laden with a pulpy red fruit, hanging like Japanese lamps.

"Damn," said Ben from behind her. "Not here again."

Ben hesitated before following Ashley and their old guide into the chamber. He studied the room, expecting to hear ghost voices or see his grandfather moving in the shadows. But neither occurred. On closer inspection the fruity growths were the only similarity between this chamber and his dream cavern. The formations were all wrong, and the growths weren't nearly as thick or leafy as in his dream. Taking a deep breath, he followed Ashley's slim back.

Ashley stopped, reaching up to one of the red fruits. "I think they're a type of mushroom," she said, breathless, nodding toward the growth. "Notice the lack of leaf structure. The interconnecting root system. Hyphaelike. Linda would go ape-shit over this stuff."

"Speaking of Linda," Ben said, "this is all very fascinating, but we have friends depending on us."

"I know, Ben. I know. I haven't forgotten. Maybe with the Mimis' rudimentary grasp of our language, they can tell us a way up from here."

"Well, let's ask!"

Ashley shook her head and continued deeper after the old man. "First we need to gain their confidence. Your stunt in escaping those predators helped, but they still seem suspicious of us. Wary. We need to proceed cautiously, or we might still find our heads on the block."

By now they had reached the center of the chamber. Here the floor was clear of the rocky columns and their bulbous growths. A shallow pit was carved into the center of the floor about a hand span deep. Around the declivity, the stone was polished to a glassy sheen and blood-colored drawings encircled the central pit.

The old man leaned on his staff on the far side of the clearing.

"My god! Look at the detail!" Ashley said, leaving Ben's side to study a drawing closer up. She knelt to peer at a depiction of a creature being attacked by a group of tiny warriors. "Look, the red paint is the same color as those weird fruits. The mushrooms are probably some type of home-grown dye."

"Great," he said sarcastically. "Some freakin' artist's den."

"No, I think it's a religious place. Primitive cultures place great stock in graven images. Idols, statues, paintings, that sort of thing. Give me a few minutes to study these. Maybe I can learn something." She slid over to examine the next picture, not even bothering to glance at him.

Ben felt the stare of other eyes, like in his dream, drilling into the back of his skull. He turned around.

The old man stood on the far side, sparing only a quick glance at Ashley before settling those gray eyes back on him. The elder nodded and sat cross-legged down on the floor, his staff balanced across his knees. He motioned for Ben to do the same.

Lowering to the floor, Ben finally noticed how tired his legs were. It had to be evening by now. Late evening. With a rattling sigh, he settled to the hard floor. Stretching a kink out of his back, he allowed his body to slump into a relaxed pose. He dreamed of a tall bottle of warm beer.

Glancing up, he noticed the old man staring at him, not uttering a sound, just peering across at him with those intent gray eyes. He seemed to want something. But what?

Ben smiled across at him one of his patented "charmers" that was known to turn a crocodile into a pussycat. But the elder only frowned back at him, his gaze still expectant. Well, stuff him then, Ben thought, letting his lids drift closed as he relaxed further. He had solved enough mysteries for one day. Now he only wanted to find a soft spot to sleep. His chin slowly sank to his chest. Maybe just a nap.

He drifted into a hazy land, half aware of the tiny noises Ashley made as she scuffled from drawing to drawing. It felt so good to release the pressures of the day, allowing them to seep into the rock. His breathing deepened and a slight snore rattled from his nose. If only he could-

"Ben! Benny boy. Wake it up there, son!"

Ben's eyes snapped open. Who the hell…? He still sat in the same cavern, the ring of columns and pulpy fruit surrounding him. But instead of the old creature, his grandfather sat cross-legged across the pit. He waved a liver-spotted hand in his direction. Ben glanced around. The place was otherwise empty. Not even Ashley was there. He craned his neck, peering. That was odd; he could still hear her, moving off to the left, mumbling something, but she was invisible.

"Benny, whatcha lookin' for?"

"Where am I?"

His grandfather lifted a finger crooked with arthritis and pointed to his skull. "In here, my boy."

Ben took a deep breath, his heart beginning to beat faster. This was insane. His grandfather and the chamber began to fade to blackness.

"Whoa there, boy. Ya need to calm yourself. Can't get all riled up, or this here won't work."

Swallowing hard, Ben began to get an inkling of what was going on. He concentrated on letting his body relax, starting with his toes and working up. The imagery around him intensified with clarity.

"There ya go, Benny. That's better."

He concentrated on breathing evenly and deeply as he spoke. "You're not my grandfather."

"No, I'm not." His grandfather smiled slightly, then his image slowly shrunk and swirled, his brow thickening, his eyes widening; a staff appeared resting across his knees. The swirling settled into the figure of the old crippled creature. "This is, of course, my true image. I am called Mo'amba."

The elder's voice still sounded like his grandfather. It was disconcerting to hear it coming from such an alien face. "How? Why?" Questions tumbled in his mind.

"Benny, neither of us speaks the other's language. So I speak to you with the language of the mind. My thoughts are translated by your mind into images and words you understand."

"So you stole the memory of my grandfather to represent yourself."

"Not me. You did. It was your mind that pulled up your grandfather's image to represent a heri'huti."

Ben pictured his grandfather's stern sober face. "And just what the devil is a heri'huti?"

"I am. As are you. Someone with the ability to connect on the dream plane. To see farther down the dark paths to the unknown."

"But why me?"

"I can read the history of your blood. A strong heri'huti glides in your bloodline from the distant past. Very strong. You are still unlearned, but with time your skill might even surpass mine. A skill that my village needs in order to survive."

"What do you mean, survive?"

"I am the last of my people with this ability," Mo'amba said, his expression suddenly pained. "With the passing of time, I have seen the other heri'hutis depart this world until only I was left. Now even I can't lead the hunters to feed our people and protect the boundaries from the crak'an anymore. The hunters go out alone. Blind. Without the guidance of a heri'huti to see beyond the next bend, it is very dangerous, and we have lost many hunters. Widows wail every night. We cannot survive much longer without a new heri'huti to guide our people." He pointed one finger at Ben. "You are the one."

"Me?"

"I have been calling for many years seeking to draw others like me here to our village. But you were the only one to answer."

"Bloody hell, there must be others. Others like… well, like you. Maybe another village would share their heri'huti with this village."

Mo'amba shook his head. "After the Scattering, the other villages were lost to us. In deep dreams, I sometimes hear inklings of the Lost Ones, but it may just be wishful dreaming rather than true dreaming."

"Still, you can't expect me to-"

Mo'amba's form drifted back into the image of his grandfather, anger lines deep around his eyes. "Blood runs true! You are one of us!"

Ben opened his mouth to protest when Ashley's voice suddenly intruded. "Ben, you must see this!"

With her words, the images around him faded, the face of his grandfather swallowed by blackness. He opened his eyes and shook his head, clearing the clinging cobwebs of his dream.

Ashley stared at him with a crinkled brow. "Jesus, how could you sleep at a time like this?"

"What?" Dazed, he rubbed his temples, a vague throbbing still there.

"Come see this," Ashley said, oblivious to what had just transpired. She crossed a few yards and knelt by a painting, waving him over.

He glanced across the clearing to the old man. He still sat staring.

With a shiver, Ben pushed up to his feet and slid over to Ashley, unsure what to tell her. "What did you find, Ash?"

"Look at this painted petroglyph. It's a triptych."

"A trip… what?"

"Three pictures. See the last one." Ashley crouched before three painted red circles and pointed at the third one.

Ben knelt closer, not quite believing what he was seeing. The third circle held a crude map of landmasses of the southern hemisphere. "My god, that's Australia."

"I know. It's crude but fairly accurate. Now look at the other two."

Ben studied the other two circles. The first showed the Australian continent connected to the Antarctic continent by a thick land bridge. The second showed the same huge land mass breaking away. "What about them?"

"It's the connection! It explains how the Mimis of Australia-at least some of them-ended up here."

"I still don't get it."

Ashley sighed as if she had already adequately explained. "Millennia ago, land bridges connected various continents. With the continental plates shifting and ocean levels changing dramatically, land bridges rose and sank frequently, some disappearing in a matter of months. The fossil record also supports the existence of just such a bridge. Many fossilized remains of extinct marsupial species have been found in Antarctica."

He shrugged. "So you think…?"

"Yes! Look at the first map." She pointed to the link between the continents. "That's the land bridge. The second picture shows the breakup of the bridge. The third picture shows how the continents eventually became isolated."

"But how could these people know about this? Map this?"

Ashley sat back on her haunches. "They obviously lived through it. And mapped it, like the American Indians did their coastlines. And through either an oral or pictorial history, they kept the memory alive." She pointed to both Australia and Antarctica on the third map. "They were once connected. Then something drove these people out of Australia, at least some of them. They were trapped here when the land bridge sank."

Ben studied the images, imagining a people forced to flee to the icy continent across a bridge of rock. He placed a finger on Antarctica. Two tribes separated. "My god… the Scattering," he mumbled. "Maybe this was what Mo'amba was talking about."

"Who?" Ashley asked, turning her nose from the middle picture.

"Ash, you better sit down for this one." He watched as she gave him her full attention, her eyebrows knitted tightly together. As he explained what had just occurred between him and the old man, her eyebrows drew apart and climbed high on her forehead.

"You mean he can speak to you!" she exclaimed when he had finished. "They do use some rudimentary telepathy." She glanced toward the creature seated cross-legged across from them. "Is he listening to us right now? Reading our minds?"

"I don't think so. We both have to be in a trancelike state. Like the Aborigines do with their dreaming pools when they communicate."

"And he's the last of his people with this ability?"

Ben nodded. "Besides me."

Ashley's expression became thoughtful. "From the standpoint of population genetics, the loss of this trait among the tribe makes sense. This community has been isolated for thousands of generations. The amount of inbreeding in this closed group without the infusion of fresh genetic stock would weaken the complex string of genes that creates this ability, eventually wiping it out." She turned to him, her eyes wide and glassy. "I could spend a lifetime just studying this single trait's effect on a population. It will turn the field of anthropology on its ear. I mean-"

Ben held up a hand. "Ash, that's all just fine and dandy, but we still need to get out of here. Or at least retrieve Michaelson and the others."

Ashley's expression sobered with his words. "You're right," she said, nodding. "There's plenty of time to start investigating after we get back to Alpha Base." She pointed at the sitting figure. "Did you ask Mo'amba how to get out of here?"

"No. And I don't think he'll be too cooperative. He wants me to stay. Take his place in the tribe."

"That could be a problem." Ashley started tapping the tip of her finger on her chin. "Something doesn't make sense. If you're so damned important to the tribe, why did they try to kill you?"

"I don't know."

"Apparently not everybody shares Mo'amba's view. That young buck with the ruby staff, possibly the village leader, sure as hell didn't seem to want us around. Perhaps we could-"

A sudden commotion erupted behind them. Ben turned to see a familiar figure limping toward them from between the shrouded columns. A small group of armed creatures followed, spears knocking the red mushrooms to swinging.

Ashley sprang up. "It's Michaelson!"

Ben's eyes drifted across the legion of spears that followed the major. He studied the score of armed warriors. While most of the warriors held their spears casually across their shoulders, some kept wary hands on scabbarded knives.

Stepping up to Michaelson, Ben clapped him on the shoulder. He noticed the smears of blood on his face. "What happened?" he asked. "It looks like you've been through the bloody wringer."

Ashley joined them, a worried expression frozen on her face as she looked him over for injuries.

Michaelson avoided their eyes, wearing an embarrassed expression. "It's nothin'. Most of it's not even my own blood. Besides, that's not important. Listen, we don't have much time."

The crowd of warriors stirred behind them. Michaelson glanced back. A tall figure wearing torn military fatigues elbowed his way through the crowd of warriors. As he crossed to Michaelson, Ben recognized the family resemblance. Same black hair and blue eyes. Same hooked nose.

"My brother Harry," Michaelson stated.

"You've got to be kidding," Ashley said. "You found him."

"Actually, he found me. He's been living with these… these creatures for the last three months."

Ben noticed Harry's eyes wander appreciatively up and down Ashley's physique. "Did you tell them?" Harry asked his brother.

"No. I was just about to."

Nodding, Harry turned to Ben and Ashley. "I'm sorry. I thought you all were refugees."

"What do you mean?" asked Ben.

Harry swallowed hard. "I thought you already knew. Or I would have tried harder to reach you sooner."

"What?" Ashley asked forcefully, trying to get Harry to spit out whatever he was holding back.

Michaelson cleared his throat. "Alpha Base. It's been destroyed. Overrun by those dinosaur things."

Ashley froze, her mouth parted with an unspoken question. Then she turned slowly to Ben, fear bright in her eyes. "It can't be," she whispered. "What about Jason?"

Ben collected her in his arms, holding her tight. "Shhh," he whispered. "I'm sure at the first sign of trouble, Blakely would have whisked him out of harm's way."

His words seemed to calm her, giving her an anchor on which to hook her hopes. Her trembling slowed, then ceased. She wiggled out of his arms, a fierce set to her jaw. "We've got to get up there. I need to know what happened."

Ben could hear the tears just behind the words. "I know. We'll leave immediately."

Harry stepped forward. "Listen, we can't just-" He jumped as a loud crack exploded behind them.

Ben whirled around to see the chief of the village cross toward them. He slammed his new staff again on the floor, the crack deafening in the chamber. "Uh-oh," Ben said under his breath. "Someone's bloody pissed."

Mo'amba struggled to rise at the sudden appearance of the village leader, heaving himself up with his staff. He shuffled across the floor to intervene. Heated words were exchanged back and forth. Finally, in a burst of growls, the chief swiped his staff across the floor, knocking Mo'amba's staff out from under him. Unsupported, the old man toppled to the floor.

A gasp arose from the warriors who circled the group. Several turned their backs. The chief eyed the others warily, his chest heaving up and down. Finally, he seemed to calm a bit and helped Mo'amba up. Quieter words were then exchanged, followed by an awkward moment of silence as they stared each other down. The chief then growled, pounded his staff on the ground as punctuation, and stomped away.

Michaelson turned to Harry. "Did you follow any of that?"

Harry nodded, his face drained of color. "Trouble."