The first leg of the swim was mercifully short. I pulled myself forward against the current through a narrow passage with rock all around me. This part of the river system was completely foreign to me. Another air hole could be just ahead, or a mile away. My eyes strained in the darkness, searching for a tiny ray of moonlight streaming down into the water that would tell me a crack led to the surface. To air.
I found one quickly, a hole in the rock ceiling just large enough to cram my face into, pulling deep breaths of still, warm air. My fingers gripped the sides of the hole, keeping me in place against the current.
What do I do now?
I was stuck in a system of caves flooded with rushing water, with no idea where I was. My sense of direction told me which way I wanted to head, but with no knowledge of this part of the river, I could easily choose the wrong passage, one without air holes. I could drown like so many Divers before me, washed away to the sea. No one would know. No one would care. My Queen would die with me.
The hole I held onto was far too small to consider shimmying up.
What if I let go and flowed back down the way I came? Surely the Soldiers had given up by now. They couldn’t possibly smell the Queen from where she hung on my belly underwater. I couldn’t smell her. If I drifted back to the chamber where I came in, could I possibly climb out? How long would it take them to smell her and come for us if I did?
Scrabbling feet overhead made dirt fall into my open mouth.
They were here.
I smelled them overhead, running across the ground high above me. They weren’t digging at the top of my airhole, so I knew they didn’t know where I was. But they were searching for me. For her. For us. No way I could possibly risk going backwards. They’d be waiting for sure.
And the cold water was already starting to sap my energy, pulling away my strength and my heat.
Also, there’s a big fat ‘Mite larva sucked onto your stomach. She’s not doing you any favors there. But there was no thought of peeling her off me. I could no more consign her to certain death than fly up to the spaceship that Mo had assured me was somewhere high overhead in the night sky, one of the many blinking stars I had never questioned. She was taking my energy, but I would give her everything I had.
We’re together. Live or die, we stay together.
I spit out the dirt, took another deep breath, and pushed off the air hole.
Turn right. Duck under. Light ahead. Rest.
The next air hole was tiny, just big enough to stick my lips into, sucking the damp air from above. My head couldn’t come out of the water, and I didn’t hear any Soldiers, but who knew how far they would chase us?
Push off. Swim hard. Three tunnels ahead. I chose the largest one, where the current was weakest.
I was rewarded with another large, open cavern. Multiple small cracks in its distant ceiling let in the moonlight and precious air, and I held onto a rock ledge, lungs pumping. Everything hurt. My sides were skinned by the squeeze through the hole when I dropped. My ribs were beaten by the fall into the water. My belly ached where the Queen held on for her life.
“Be brave, my Queen,” I whispered, loud in the open chamber. “I’m going to get you home.”
A couple of the water beasts—seals—nudged into my legs. Their warm, furry bodies spun and wove around me, splashing in the water.
“Not now,” I muttered, shoving them away. They looked at me with sad brown eyes, and tumbled away down the river.
I rested as long as I dared. But each passing moment stole more of my waning strength.
Go now, or you’ll never make it.
I had to be close to where Sunshine waited, assuming the scarred Digger was still there. I closed my eyes and re-oriented myself. It has to be to the right.
Cold water closed around me as I pushed myself back out into the smooth current.
Just one more swim. Surely just one more.
The tunnel led in the direction I wanted to go. It had to be a branch I hadn’t chosen on my swim to the Hive.
Exhaustion was catching up to me. How long since I’d slept? Not today. Not yesterday.
And not tomorrow if you don’t hurry up. Or maybe . . . tomorrow and forever if you don’t hurry up.
The Queen on my belly was content in the cold water, but I was nearly used up.
“Here we go.”
I ducked under the water and kicked with all I had. The tunnel widened, but no light shone through the solid rock ceiling, which sloped down deeper and deeper. I swam as panic grew inside me.
My lungs burned. My throat ached to open.
The tunnel leveled out, but much too deep. No air holes down here. If it didn’t slope back up fast, we were done for.
Just a little farther. Little farther. Little farther. The words lost meaning, echoing in my head.
I couldn’t do it. The cold, the fear, and the life-sucking Queen had taken too much for me. My arms relaxed.
Just breathe. One big breath of water and it’s all done. You did your best.
My legs stopped kicking.
I’m sorry. So sorry.
Like a bolt of lightning, pain and strength blasted through my belly. Jolted out of my stupor, I clawed at the water around me, scrambling against the current in an electric frenzy.
The tunnel sloped up and I pushed my feet against the wall, shooting for the surface. Gray light filtered in.
With a great, heaving breath, I surfaced in the dim cavern. I clawed my way to the air, and hung there half in the water, retching up foam. Shivers gripped all my muscles and my fingers lost their grip on the edge. For a moment I hung at the edge of the river. Then a giant claw reached down and grabbed the back of my pants, hauling me out onto the rock ledge.
Soft, feathery feelers caressed the larva on my skin.
“We made it, Sunshine,” I whispered. “Meet your new Queen.”