Subterranean

THIRTY-FIVE

BEN SAT ON THE LEATHER SOFA IN BLAKELY'S OFFICE, nursing his aching shoulder. He needed to keep moving. This sitting around was making his shoulder throb. Harry had painfully yanked it back in place earlier.

Jason sat next to him now, kicking the sofa with his heel, still tense. The boy had been through a hell of a lot. He had finally related the events that led to Ben's discovery of him.

Sandy sat on a chair behind Blakely's desk, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers. Dark circles were etched beneath her eyes. "Poor Dr. Blakely," she mumbled.

Ben nodded. He regretted all the foul thoughts he had harbored for the leader of this bloody mission. He didn't deserve to die like that.

Harry finally reappeared at the office door. "I've got everything ready, Ben. Let's get movin'."

It was about time. Mo'amba's message of danger still burned fiercely in Ben's mind. This waiting was agonizing, but Harry had insisted that Ben rest for a few minutes while he organized a quicker way for Ben to get back to Ashley. Pushing off the sofa, Ben felt a twinge of protest from his shoulder. 'Show me what you're talking about," Ben said, wincing.

"It's just outside the office. C'mon." Harry led the way.

After telling Jason to stay put, Ben followed Harry down the scorched hall. The entrance was demolished, the door hanging askew on its hinges.

Harry waved to the two mimi'swee hunters who had led the crak'an on a wild goose chase. They had returned, not even looking tired from the hours of cat-and-mousing. Harry patted his fellow hunters on the shoulders, then proceeded outside.

"I'll leave with the boy just as soon as you take off," Harry said. "We'll take the elevator to safety, but you need to hurry."

"I know. Watch your back, though, and protect that boy. There's still a madman setting other bombs around here, and I don't want Jason falling within his clutches again." Ben saw the shallow crater from the explosion for the first time. Almost two yards in diameter. The surface rock looked burned. He noticed there was no carcass of Tiny Tim. Ben smiled grimly. The beast had probably been blown to tiny pieces. He turned to Harry. "Now what are you hiding up your sleeve?"

Harry wore a shit-eating grin. "Come see." Harry led the way to the side of the building. He pointed proudly. "My masterpiece."

Leaning on the wall was a black motorcycle, trimmed in chrome. Ben whistled in appreciation.

"I retrieved it from my dormitory after reconnoitering the area. Figured it would be a quick way back to the wormhole. This baby will outrace any damned crak'an."

"Bloody grand idea." Ben patted the seat. "Is it gassed and ready?"

"Yep."

"Then let's get the show on the road. I don't know where that damned Khalid is, or what he's planning next, but I don't think we should wait."

"What about the woman he's holding hostage? The biologist?" Harry asked. "Should we look for her?"

Ben closed his eyes and clenched his fists. He pictured Linda's nervous smile. He hated his next words. "No, he said, his voice strained, "it's too risky. For all we know, she may be dead already. Just get that boy to the elevator and out of here."

Harry nodded. "Then let's move."

Within minutes, Harry had everything ready. Ben straddled the bike, a pilfered rifle strapped under his left thigh. His backpack was cleared of everything but the paper-wrapped statue of ohna.

One of the mimi'swee hunters-Ben couldn't remember his name-reluctantly climbed behind him on the bike.

Sighing, Ben called to Harry and pointed to the tiny hunter. "I can return the statue on my own."

"It's not safe to travel alone. There's sure to be other pods. Now go!"

Jason stood by the side of the bike, obviously nervous about seeing Ben leave.

Ben winked at him. "I'll be back. And it'll be your mom on the back of this hog the next time you see me."

This generated a small smile, but his eyes still had a worried look to them. "Be careful, Ben."

"Always." Ben engaged the throttle, and the bike roared, raising an involuntary smile to his lips. The smile turned to a grimace as the grip of his passenger tightened to the point of cutting off circulation to his lower half. Ben patted the squeezing arm. "Easy there, buddy." The grip loosened… but only slightly.

With a final wave, Ben slipped the bike forward, proceeding at a moderate pace. There was too much scattered debris to proceed faster than a man could run. But after a few minutes, getting accustomed to the cycle's handling, he increased his speed, a wide grin on his face. He flew past a field of flattened tents, heading east to detour around the chasm since the bridge was out. He tried his best to ignore some of the human debris on the path. Like roadkill, he thought dourly. His smile faded to a grim line.

Thankfully, within a few minutes he had cleared the base and sped toward the north wall. He breathed deeply the cleaner air, appreciating the abating stench of smoke and rotting flesh.

As he raced toward the distant dwellings, following the rough man-made track, he searched for any sign of the crak'an ahead. Nothing. But he was well aware that the darkness beyond his headlamp could hold herds of those monsters.

He held his breath as he sped along, his palms sweaty on the bike's handles. He kept searching, straining to pierce the black curtain around the bike. Something howled from a distance away, but otherwise no sign of the beasts ever appeared. Thankfully, he reached the north wall without encountering a single crak'an. Almost too easy.

He cut the engine.

The small hunter was off the bike in a heartbeat, backing away as if from some foul creature. Using his flash-light, Ben grabbed his rifle and followed his agile partner up the levels of dwellings to ohna's chamber. The little hunter was first to the chamber, practically flying into its security. Ben followed close behind.

As he reached the entrance to the dwelling, the hunter, just steps ahead of him, suddenly fell back into Ben's arms. What the hell? The hilt of a dagger protruded from his small chest. The hunter stiffened in his arms, then jerked into a violent convulsion. Ben couldn't hold him any longer and dropped him to the ground.

Poison.

Ben flashed his light forward. Two hunched mimi'swee tribesmen stood before him, thick with muscle and damned familiar. The silaris, the poisoned ones.

Ben backed a step away from the threshold, giving himself room to raise his rifle. Just as he shouldered the weapon, something slammed into the back of his head. He collapsed to his knees, a spray of lights dancing across his vision. He fell forward across the entryway, his rifle falling from limp fingers.

Pain squeezed his vision to a tiny dot. But it was enough to see the scrawny physique of Sin'jari step over him. He wiped Ben's blood from his staff, leaned over, and stared into Ben's eyes. He smiled in triumph as Ben's world faded to black.

"I'm telling you," Ashley said, pacing the dimensions of the cell, "that damned Sin'jari meant for everything to happen the way it did. He plotted the whole thing."

Michaelson studied the guards at the threshold to their prison cell. "From the way those guys keep eyeballing us, I don't think they're gonna be in any mood to listen to reason, even if we could speak their tongue."

Ashley glanced over to the four mimi'swee guards. "You know what the worst thing about this situation is? It's that these people will always view us as murderers. And I'm to blame. I've been an anthropologist for close to a decade, and this is how I handle first contact with a new tribe."

"Ashley, quit kicking yourself. The situation's extraordinary. And it was Sin'jari that screwed it up. Not you."

Ashley spoke between gritted teeth. "If only there was some damned way to correct it. If we could-"

The sudden prattling of the guards interrupted Ashley's words. She took a step forward to see who the guards were addressing and recognized the scarred face of Tru'gula, the leader of the hunters and a good friend of Mo'amba's. This didn't bode well.

Tru'gula snapped at the guards, his fellow hunters. They moved aside for their elder. He stalked into the chamber, his knuckles white on his staff. Stopping in front of Ashley, he just stared at her, his eyes wounded. He seemed to be weighing her, judging her.

Ashley knew she should not waste this moment. Maybe Tru'gula would listen. She turned to Michaelson and grabbed his shoulders.

"What the-" Michaelson began.

"Hush," she said to him. "I'm gonna try to make him understand. This may be our last chance to win an ally." She turned Michaelson so he faced her. Then she craned her head toward Tru'gula. She pointed to the Major. "Mo'amba." She again grabbed Michaelson's shoulders and repeated, "Mo'amba."

Then she took a step back and pointed to herself. "Sin'jari." She pantomimed his mincing gait and pointed to herself again. "Sin'jari."

Tru'gula just stared blankly at her.

Ashley rolled her eyes but proceeded to imitate Sin'jari. Stepping in front of Michaelson, she pretended to remove a knife from an imaginary scabbard, then pantomimed plunging the knife into Michaelson's chest twice. Then she stepped back and fingered her chest. "Sin'jari!" she said fiercely.

Tru'gula's eyes narrowed, his wounded face tightening with rage.

Ashley stepped away. Did he understand? If he did, did he believe her? She had just accused one of his fellow elders.

"Sin'jari," Tru'gula hissed. "Sin'jari!" He stepped toward Ashley.

She resisted the urge to step away, knowing instinctively that she needed to stand her ground, to proclaim the truth. She stared him in the eyes, never flinching, as he stopped toe-to-toe with her.

He stared for what seemed like several minutes, then spoke, obviously struggling with his words. He pointed to his head. "Mo'amba… wise." He grabbed Ashley's shoulder. "Mo'amba… trust… you."

She nodded, encouraging him.

"Harry's obviously been working with him," Michaelson mumbled.

The leader of the hunters turned to the Major. "Blood brother." He clenched his arms around his chest. "Trust." He then turned back to Ashley. "Tru'gula… Tru'gula… trust… you."

Did she hear right? Understand correctly? He believed her! In her relief, she reached over and hugged Tru'gula, tears coming to her eyes.

Tru'gula broke free of her embrace. "Dan… ger. Here. Go! Now!" Tru'gula tried to tug her toward the entrance.

"Wait." She resisted, pulling her arm free of his grip. "If you trust us, then you could tell the others. There's no need to run."

He just stared back at her in confusion. He didn't understand. He glanced at the doorway, then back at her. He sighed in frustration. "Tru'gula… trust you." He waved as if to encompass the entire village around them. "No trust."

Ashley realized he meant to help them escape from here. To run from her accusers. He didn't believe her innocence would be accepted by his people. The villagers were too suspicious of the strangers.

"Go. Now." Tru'gula repeated.

Ashley stood still. "No."

Michaelson stepped next to her. "I think we'd better accept his help."

"If I run, it'll be as good as admitting my guilt. I can't leave these people thinking we're just cold-blooded murderers."

"But Ashley. The risk."

She shook her head. "You mentioned a plan earlier. A way to prove my innocence. I thought it was a pipe dream. But with Tru'gula's help it might work."

"Might? Those are long odds when you're gambling with all our lives."

She stared him in the eyes. "I have to try."

Linda's legs felt heavy. She stumbled after Khalid, on autopilot, one leg following the other. She stared at Khalid's back as he weaved his way toward the distant elevator. She knew she should hate him, despise him.

But she was numb.

She had failed Jason. She had promised him she'd be back. She pictured his eyes as she bound him to the column. He had known he was going to die. Somehow she should have been able to stop it, but her fear had broken her. Fear of Khalid. Fear of death. Through her own inaction, she had sealed his fate.

A single tear rolled down her cheek.

Fear had always ruled her life. Whether it was her cloying claustrophobia or some other anxiety, fear had been her constant companion. Finally, her crippling weakness had resulted in the death of a boy.

With Jason's death, her fear was vanquished. Now all she had left was her guilt.

Khalid had stopped ahead. "Listen. Do you hear something?"

Linda heard nothing. She didn't answer him, finding words too difficult to form.

Khalid pointed. "There!"

Linda looked to where he pointed. Across the length of a football field, spotlights still speared the darkness above, highlighting the towering elevator shaft. Something moved up there. It was an elevator cage, descending toward the floor. Someone was coming.

As she watched, she could make out rifles and other weapons bristling through the bars of the cage, like some armed porcupine. Reinforcements were arriving.

Khalid's eyes narrowed to black slits. "So damn close. Just a few more minutes."

Linda allowed a smile to come to her lips, enjoying Khalid's consternation. "I guess you're not leaving that way."

Khalid glared at her, slipped out of his backpack, and began rummaging through it. He removed a transmitter from his pack. It was different from the one that controlled the bombs she had helped set.

"What're you doing?"

"Get down." He raised the transmitter and pressed the button. A green light flashed on the device. Khalid grabbed her in his arms and leaped behind a partially collapsed building. An explosion rocketed from ahead of them, blowing debris and smoke their way.

After the worst of the smoke billowed past them, Khalid climbed off of her and checked his handiwork. She followed to see what he had done.

A smoldering crater now existed where the supports for the elevator had stood. She stared up. Only one spotlight was still intact, illuminating the ghastly scene. In slow motion, she saw the remainder of the tower start to collapse. The cage hurtled toward the cavern floor, uncontrolled. Even with her ears echoing with the blast, she could hear the screaming.

She swung back behind the damaged wall, closing her eyes. For what seemed like years, she waited. Then she heard it. The booming crash as the cage hit the floor. She listened. The screaming had stopped.

Khalid stepped next to her. He lit a cigarette, his hand trembling slightly. "I'm glad I set those explosives the night before the team set out. I knew from the start this mission might end this way. But I thought with planning…" He shrugged.

"What are we going to do now? We can't leave."

He puffed a cloud of smoke toward the distant roof. "I must try to contact my superiors, apprise them of the situation. We can try Blakely's communications center. See if I can raise anyone."

"Then what?"

He shrugged. "Then we die."