Time vanished in the cold black of the lava tube. Was it only hours, or a day? Kalico Aguila wasn’t sure. And she had started to regret her once-flippant remarks that being in the tube was better than being eaten by Batuhan’s cannibals. She’d been in some dark places before, especially her mine. But nothing as dark, cramped, and terrifying as this.
When Muldare had occasion to flip her light off, the blackness was complete. Total. Literally the stygian depths of the tomb.
And worse, there were things. Invertebrates that scuttled around in the black recesses, always running from the light.
“How you doing?” Talbot asked his wife.
“There’s something in here. Watching us. Waiting,” Dya told him, shivering. “Mark, promise me. If something happens, if it looks like we’re trapped here, you’ll shoot me. You will, won’t you? You won’t leave me to die in the dark.”
Kalico swallowed hard. From the tone in the woman’s voice, she was clap-trapping serious.
“We’re going to make it, wife.” Talbot told her in a voice dripping love.
What was that like? To be loved so completely? Kalico took the moment to wonder—not that she’d ever allowed herself such a fantasy. Still, here, in the evil blackness, she envied Dya Simonov that warm reassurance.
Up in the lead, Muldare took a deep breath, as if nerving herself as she crawled up and over a hump where the floor rose. “Got another drop ahead,” she said before shining the light back so Kalico could slither across the clammy wet rock in the marine’s wake. Only to find herself perched on a shallow ledge before the tube dropped off into inky depths.
Kalico reached back, took Dya’s hands, and helped the botanist negotiate the hump. The woman was trembling, her jaw quivering with fear as she swung her feet around to find purchase on the ledge. Then came Talbot, his rifle clattering on the unforgiving stone.
When Muldare shone her light into the depths, the invertebrates scattered like perverted lice. Skittering this way and that, they hid in cracks, huddled in shadow, and seemed to flow down into the depths.
“I hate this place.” Briah Muldare’s voice was a hoarse whisper.
Talbot was staring down into the hole. “Shit on a shoe, but that’s a straight drop.”
“So, what now?” Kalico asked—felt something drop onto her head. She panicked, clawed with frantic fingers to rip the skittering invertebrate out of her hair. The little beast, legs thrashing, sailed out into Muldare’s light and vanished into the blackness below. Kalico willed every ounce of her courage to get her heartbeat back to normal.
Pus and ions, I’d give a kilo of rhodium for a drink of water. Give up the whole damn Number One mine to be out of here and back in Port Authority chowing down on Inga’s chili and drinking whiskey.
Talbot took Muldare’s light, flashed it around the walls of the shaft, and then leaned out, saying, “Bless you, yes!”
“What?” Kalico craned her neck, trying to see.
“Got a rope here.” Talbot handed the light back to Muldare, dropped to his knees, and backed over the ledge, feeling his way with his feet.
“Mark, damn you, you be careful,” Dya cried, leaning forward. “So help me, if you . . .” She couldn’t finish.
“What makes you so brave?” Muldare asked, trying to hold the light for him.
Talbot grinned weakly. “I survived four months in the forest. Alone. Every time I figured I was dead, I wasn’t. When I eventually do wind up dead, I’ll know I’ve either just made a really dumb mistake, or that the odds finally caught up with me.” A pause. “Ah, there. Little bit of a foothold here. Don’t mind the invertebrates, they crunch under your boot.”
“Did you have to say that?” Dya cried, on the verge of tears.
Talbot lowered himself, feeling for footholds. “Got another one. Ouch. Shit!”
“What?” Kalico’s heart starting to hammer again.
“Don’t put your fingers in the crushed invertebrate.” Talbot wiped his hand on his coveralls. “Their guts really burn.”
We’re all going to die in here.
Talbot eased himself over the edge. “Okay, got the rope. So, the good news is that someone passed this way before. And better yet, left us the rope. Best of all, the invertebrates haven’t eaten it. The bad news is that while it’s knotted, it’s still just a rope. Means we each have to climb down, one by one.”
Kalico—seeing Dya shaking and on the verge of tears, and Muldare looking pretty rocky herself—said, “You go first, Mark. Then Dya, Muldare, and I’ll be last.”
“You’ll have to do it in almost total darkness,” Muldare told her, a worried look in her hazel eyes.
“So?” Kalico shrugged. “I’ll manage.”
God, can I lie to myself, or what?
Screw this being strong for everyone shit. She wanted to drop to her knees and throw up.
Talbot was already descending the rope. She could hear his clothing rubbing against the stone, the occasional clunk as his rifle butt hit rock. The man’s breath kept coming loud in the cavern. How long? Ten seconds? Twenty?
“I’m down,” Mark called. “Come on, Dya. Feel with your feet as you lower yourself over the lip. If it feels like a step, it is. Once you grab hold of the rope, use both of your feet to grip the knots.”
In the flashlight’s glow, Dya’s face was a mask of terror. She tried to swallow. Couldn’t. Tears glistened at the corners of her eyes. Who would have thought that rock-solid Dya, woman of steel, would have been afraid of the dark?
“I can’t.” It came as faint whisper.
Kalico bent down, placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder. Forced a kindly confidence she didn’t feel into her voice. “You going to let a Corporate bitch like me show you up? Besides, down that rope is the only way back to Su and Damien, Tweet, Tuska, and the rest of the family. Nothing you couldn’t do in the light of day. The only difference is that now you do it in a tunnel.”
“It’s okay,” Talbot called from the bottom. “Not more than five meters.”
“I don’t want to die in the dark,” Dya whispered. Her entire body shook, but somehow, looking numb, she swung her feet over the edge. “Something’s here. Feel it? Watching us.”
Kalico couldn’t help herself, a shiver playing down her arms as she stared at the surrounding black, and damned if she didn’t feel some presence. Cold. Heartless. And malevolent.
Muldare took Kalico’s hand for stability, leaned out to shine the light as far down as she could to help Dya see.
Foothold by foothold, the trembling Dya lowered herself, tears streaking down her face. She was below the lip, said, “Got the rope.” Then added, “Fuck me. Here goes.”
For a moment there was silence, then a yip of fear echoed in the shaft.
“Dya!” Kalico and Talbot cried in unison.
“It’s . . . It’s . . . I’m okay. Just . . . Just . . .”
“Take your time,” Talbot called. “Feel your way.”
“Shut up!” Dya shrieked. “I’ve been on a rope before.”
At the terror in the woman’s voice, Kalico closed her eyes.
She’s going to lose it. She’ll freeze. Won’t be able to move. When her fingers cramp, she’s going to fall.
And what? Land full on Mark? Leave them both crippled here in the terrible black?
She glanced sidelong at Muldare, wanted to shout down to Talbot to stay out of the way.
Oh, sure, and that would really seal Dya’s fate, wouldn’t it?
“How you doing, wife?” Talbot called up.
“Okay,” Dya squeaked. “I found the rope. Got my feet on the knot.”
Kalico sucked her lips, her heart hammering. Come on. You can do it.
Then came the sound of clothing sliding on rock. The softer sounds were Dya sobbing, struggling. But the sliding on rock continued, getting ever more faint.
Then, “I . . . I’m slipping! I can’t hold on any . . .” It ended with a shriek. Then a muffled thump.
“Mark? Dya?” Kalico called, hanging out as far as she could over the edge. All she could hear was whimpering, the sound of someone broken.