Chapter Twenty-Four

In the dark, Muddy saw her. His mother, six months removed from the cancer, and his father and Zack. His father coped by diving into his books; Muddy had his music and Zack. Well, Zack swam deep with his drugs, music, girls and anything that would hide him from the pain.

Muddy was in the water, but drowning in it. Until this happened, he’d never believed in what would happen after death. He believed his mother went to a better place, even Heaven as many of his family and friends said, but still, he didn’t believe in it for himself. Maybe it happened for only those who were pure or had suffered enough. Now he was there and feared he would never see his father again.

Or Poe.

He could handle the rest as they would live happy lives, but he knew Poe had so little to look forward to, other than the band. Even though they all tried to protect her, he wanted to be the one. Her savior, even though he knew she’d saved him lately and was likely the strongest of the group.

He opened his eyes and saw nothing but black. Maybe there wasn’t anything there after all. Maybe he didn’t deserve anything.

Edgar.

Someone called to him.

Mom? I’m coming home. Even in death, that felt cheesy to say. But he meant it.

Edgar.

Yet, it didn’t sound like his mother. Then who in the world was it?

He still floated towards it.

You have to finish the journey. Finish the songs. Do what needs to be done.

Who?

Finish it the right way. Save him. Finish it.

Confusion rang through his being, whatever that was now, as he continued to float.

Edgar?

Another voice. Female. Was it his mom taking him away? A sudden pain leapt into his chest and tore into his heart.

Edgar!

Fire burned in his lungs as he breathed; first water then cold, pure air.

“You’re back.”

He forced his eyes open and knew he was alive. He wasn’t sure if he should be happy or depressed that life still held him, though. Pain reminded him of life. His mother had showed him that no matter how much she tried to hide it, life was pain.

Until he looked into her eyes and realized it didn’t hurt completely. “Poe?” He choked out more liquid. It tasted and smelled like a mixture of toilet water and the beach. “No. You’re not dead, too. Please tell me that.”

Someone laughed.

“You moron,” Poe cried in her typical dry humor. “Neither of us is dead, but we came pretty close. Can you sit up?”

He hacked up more water and looked around. He saw Otis, Corey, Lyra, Poe and a body leaning against the wall he assumed was Luke.

“Is he hurt?”

Lyra turned away. “No,” she said, “but he needs help. He won’t make it without medicine.” He noticed the teen’s face wasn’t in great shape.

“Then, let’s go,” Muddy said. He stumbled and fell. His gaze took in the cavernous room with massive amphitheater, a beach area where the river must have drained out and beyond that, a lake with black water. Walls shot up in all directions, higher than he could see. An eye of light winked at him from somewhere near a ceiling he that couldn’t make out just yet.

All around him lay busted up shacks. Buildings, maybe. He thought he noticed more across the lake, planks and boards lying in odd positions, seemingly standing in the middle of darkness. “What’s the deal here?”

Corey held up his shoulders, steadying him. “Look at you, fresh from the other side and ready to fight one more time.”

“Isn’t that what we’re here for?” Still he felt woozy. Maybe he would until his brain and lungs had enough oxygen.

“Don’t you want to know what happened to you?” Otis stood on his other side.

No, he didn’t. None of it seemed real and it scared him that he’d almost died, especially since he didn’t see his mom there.

But Poe turned him to the back wall where Luke sat. An opening like a drain hung about a story high. Water flowed from it in a steady stream.

“Remember Action Water Park?” Otis asked, laughing. “That place where the water slides are almost as deadly as the Jersey roads? Buddy, we were exploring this place and suddenly you came shooting out of there like a turn on turbo flush. It’s a good thing the water was nearby. You skidded like a flat rock on a lake.”

Corey still held him. “Yeah, otherwise, just like that park, you might have lost half your skin sliding over that beach.”

He gazed downward. Sharp rocks and rough, hot sand covered the area leading to the lake. Wow.

“Lucky for me, too,” the sax player said. “I was nearly something’s lunch when little drummer boy and Luke pulled me out of the frying pan.”

Otis chuckled. “Buddy, don’t ever use that line again. You have no idea.”

Muddy turned back to the wall. “Is he okay?” He pointed at the male twin.

Otis’ expression changed. “He nearly gave his life for me. We need to get him out of here, but he won’t budge until we finish this.”

“Then let’s do it,” Muddy replied. “It’s not like we can leave. Not yet, anyway.”

He gazed up at the eye of the cavern. “Has anyone figured this one out, yet?”

They shook their heads then looked around the shore. This was nothing but a dark cavern, the biggest one yet. The lake stretched out from the shore into—nothing. When Muddy squinted, he could see an opening hundreds of feet high and definitely out of reach. A vast wall with handholds existed for those with mountaineering skills. They had none. Besides, the climb would be brutal with an injured Luke.

“How?” He gauged the depth of the lake and the height of the opening.

Poe shrugged. “Maybe there’s another way.” “You’ve seen these rooms. These slaves were pretty smart.”

They all seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“If they built all of this to help the Tritons, but also to build in a failsafe so that someone, like us, could sneak in and stop them, then they wouldn’t be so dumb as to not take care of themselves. Would they?”

Poe spoke, her voice unsteady. “No, they wouldn’t.”

“What do you mean?” Corey asked, looking around.

“Hey!” Otis yelled. “Across the lake, I think I see something. It’s a bunch of rocks. They lead upwards. I wonder…”

They all looked, except for Poe. True enough, starting halfway across the lake, blending in with the black water was a massive pile of boulders. They could climb. That couldn’t be hard, could it?

A hissing sound emanated behind them, above them, beyond them.

“Sounds like steam,” Muddy said.

“Anyone notice that you shot out of a river, but there’s not much water in here?” Corey gazed at the lake. “Oh, no.”

Lyra looked up, staring just below the eye. “Well, that explains the smoke we see sometimes over the mountain.”

From several large openings below the eye opening high above, something now flowed. When it hit the lake, water turned to steam on contact.

“I’m tired of magma,” Otis groaned. Luke echoed his pain behind the group.

“What?” Muddy was confused. “Magma? Like lava? Why?”

“I’ll tell you some other time,” he replied wearily, “when we’re not going to be buried by melting rock.”

Muddy looked at the cascade of black rocks. “Still, that looks like the way out. The lava isn’t flowing over all of it. But, what’s with the leftover shacks?” He pointed further along the shore, far from where he burst from the river.

Luke now stood. “I’ve heard,” he breathed, obviously in great pain, “that the slaves taken by the Tritons were the brightest we had in the city. Some were strong, but all of them were smart. But, where did they go once they built this place? They had to live somewhere.”

“Well, this isn’t exactly the Hamptons,” Otis said.

“Why are the buildings all busted up?” Muddy asked, looking around at the condition of the structures that might have once housed the slaves and wondering why Poe had been so quiet. He noticed her staring into the distance along the far shore. “Did they rebel?”

“Maybe because the Tritons didn’t need them anymore,” she said.

Luke continued. “One or two of the workers supposedly escaped, according to my grandfather. He said something about a spell. The slaves said that the Tritons never needed replacement workers.”

“What about when they died? With all those—things—in there, some had to die. And it had to take forever to construct. Some had to die.”

“They did,” Poe spoke again, her voice going flat.

“How do you know?

“Because they’re still here—and obviously not thrilled we’re here.” Her hand shook as she pointed in a direction across the lake.

Muddy saw what she did. “Maybe just the opposite. Maybe they are thrilled we’re here. Maybe we’re lunch.”

She turned to the band. “Now would be a good time to run.”

If there ever was such a thing as zombies, Muddy now believed. Whether or not that was what they were, didn’t seem to matter. About a hundred or so of the living dead emerged from the darkness of the far shores, all looking like they hadn’t eaten in decades.

Forget the shambling, rambling creatures of the movies, Muddy thought. “Run,” he said, “into the lake. Get to the rocks.”

“But they’re going to be flooded with lava and hot rocks in minutes,” Lyra said.

“Great,” Corey said. “Cooked or eaten sushi-style. What a way to go.”

“Either way sucks,” Otis said. “Isn’t there another way?”

“Nope,” Muddy said, thinking of what he’d learned when he was in the River. He had to finish this journey. Looking at Poe, he knew he had to make sure he returned with her. “We’re going to do some building of our own. Everyone grab some wood and run like zombies are after us.”

Corey chuckled, just for a second, before bolting for the other side with an armful of planks from the broken houses.

“Seriously? Zombies?” Otis kept looking back as he watched them gain ground. They were only a hundred yards off, if that, and running like the New York Jets—when they were good. “They’re just so passé.”

Muddy grabbed a few pieces of sturdy wood. “Tell them that. I think they believe they’re still the ‘in’ thing.”

Poe stopped at the base of the rocks, touching one and pulling back her hand in pain. “It’s already hot! Please tell me what you’re planning.”

For the first time in months, he smiled a confident smile. “Trust me. This goes all the way to—”

The horde hit the water in a cacophony of violent splashes. The first few rocks weren’t too hot, yet. The magma had streamed off to the left and right, thankfully. Much of it wouldn’t hit their direct path until they reached close to the summit, if they lived that long.

All of them, even Luke, scrambled over the two, three and four-foot high boulders. Luke’s injuries didn’t appear life-threatening to Muddy, but then again, neither did his mother’s. It’s what happened on the inside that mattered and after hearing what Otis said about the searing suit, he mused that some of the teen’s organs could be steamed like a clam, ready to burst open and kill him if they weren’t already in that state.

Once they’d climbed about twenty feet, they stopped to catch their breath and examine who’d chased them. Muddy felt sweat coursing off his flesh and heat dizzying his vision. Poe seemed to be affected as well.

Muddy, Poe, and Otis were avid fans of horror films, but hated zombies. Other than what Romero did with his Living Dead series and The Walking Dead show, they felt most shows had missed the boat. Zombies were a metaphor for society, Poe often said, about how people who followed others blindly, such as politicians, traditions, sports teams and music. “Group think,” she’d called it, and if she said it, the band knew she had researched it thoroughly.

Did this bunch below them blindly follow the Tritons? Did they believe in what they were told? Or did they just wish to save themselves or their families?

They numbered at least a hundred. At least, the ones that he could see.

Slender bodies with an alabaster sheen on light gray flesh clamored together, looking downright famished. Were they alive or just animated by some power of their keepers? They didn’t shamble like the undead in the movies. They moved with purpose and strength. Their eyes stared up at Muddy with a hunger that appeared anything but lifeless. He imagined them slaving over all of the rooms, all of the booby traps the band had survived. Was it a labor of love, fear or did they secretly hope for someone to enter their maze and defeat their makers? He wondered if it even mattered to them now. Maybe they thought no more. Maybe their souls had left them and all they wished for was for someone to feed them. Somehow, he had a feeling he would never know.

One began to climb.

“Oh, no,” Corey said. “Move. Now.”

Otis was the first to scramble upwards to the next big rock. “Is this what they mean by the dead will rise?”

“Will you shut up!” Corey had little patience left for his buddy, but everyone knew it was stress talking.

Two more pale figures jumped on the rocks and began their ascent.

Someone screamed.

Muddy looked up and saw Lyra blowing on her hands. “It’s too hot!” Her hands were red and obviously pained.

“Now we use the planks.”

“Muddy?” Poe grabbed his arm. “It’s just a song. You don’t think you can honestly build this, do you?”

“What else can we do?” His voice came out stronger than he’d intended and immediately he regretted it. “What do I do? All I have left is the music.”

“And us.”

Us, meaning you and me—or the band?

He turned to her and froze.

She wore an expression he couldn’t understand. Then suddenly she leaned in and planted a sweet kiss on the corner of his mouth. Just where he could be utterly confused. Was that a kiss? Or just a peck?

She smiled as she pulled away. She knew exactly what she meant and wanted him to know that she knew. “Maybe when we get back home, we could grab a movie.”

His heart leaped with joy, but he didn’t know how much he should read into it.

“Just—not a horror one, okay?”

One of the zombies below howled in a strained, dry-lunged voice.

Muddy really hated zombies. If he never read another book or saw another movie with them in it, he might die a happy guy. Well, not just yet.