Chapter Forty-Two

WE DIDN’T STOP running until the tremors had mostly settled. By then, we couldn’t maintain our original pace. My legs trembled with fatigue, and my lungs burned with exertion. I had no idea how long it had actually been, but it seemed like we’d already run for hours.

When at last we’d recovered our breath enough to speak, Caspersen said, “After that, they’re going to be looking for us. We’re going to need to keep moving, and moving fast.” She amazed me, sometimes, with how tactful she was. For my own part, I was half tempted to leave the professor’s body behind us as a peace offering to the cannibals. I wouldn’t have even cared if it worked, as long as it rid us of the trigger-happy son of a bitch. And I suspected I wasn’t the only one with similar thoughts.

The professor, however, seemed to miss how Caspersen was letting him off the hook for nearly killing us and nearly making us a main course at the cannibal feast.

Instead, he stared daggers at us all, and fumed, “I told you. I told you there were cannibals there. I warned you—all of you. And you told me I was seeing things.” He paused to suck in another mouthful of air. “Looks like I was right. Again.”

“Right? Fuck.” Matt scoffed. “You almost killed us all. I don’t really think now is the time for righteous indignation, do you?”

Righteous indignation, however, seemed to be precisely what the professor had in mind. “If you people had listened to me, that wouldn’t have happened. It’s not my fault you left defending us—and our computers—to me.”

“You shouldn’t have shot,” Connor panted.

“How about you soldiers actually act like soldiers, then? I fucking warned you all. I warned you all.”

“Carter, so help me, if you don’t shut the hell up,” I said, “I am going to—”

But Caspersen broke in, “We’re all going to move out. Save your breath. What’s done is done, and we’ve got a long journey home.”

*

WE WALKED ALL day and rested only until the moon shone brightly enough to light our path. We didn’t dare light a lantern as we were still on the Mountain. The cannibals, we felt sure, would be out looking for us, and we didn’t want to draw any further attention to ourselves.

Bak kept up a brutal pace, and we made the tunnels before nightfall on the second day. We were exhausted, but our nerves were greater than our weariness. In all this time, we’d spotted neither hide nor hair of a cannibal. They couldn’t have missed the incident in the mountains. No one on the continent probably missed that. Nor did it make any sense that they’d let us walk away. Not if they could help it.

Which, as I saw it, left us with one of two possibilities. In my more optimistic moments, I dared to dream we’d had such a good head start on our foes that we’d simply outrun them so far. In that case, every minute we spent resting was a moment of advantage to our pursuers. The other less pleasing possibility was that the cannibals were en route to intercept us via some hidden path. And in that case, we might well be walking to our deaths.

Still, there was nothing to do but walk; and so we did, all night. At least, I assumed it was overnight as it seemed like several hours. And we remained underground with only Bak’s lantern for light.

At any rate, after a space, our exhaustion hit a critical point, and Caspersen allowed us a quick rest. I’d had no intention of sleeping, but she had to shake me out of deep slumber when the time came to resume our march.

Twice more, we repeated this rest, but otherwise, except for quick breathers, we stayed on the move. The tunnels that had seemed so remarkable on our first pass through were now a source of constant concern. Every flicker of the lantern light, every dancing patch of shadow, every errant ring on the stone, seemed to portend our imminent demise.

But it never came. We crossed the lava tubes unmolested, emerging into the daylight with a measure of what could only be described as terror, for if the cannibals had been waiting to spring a trap, this was their last chance.

Terror gave way to confusion as we reached the trees. Bak went before us and let down the rope. One by one, we climbed up to safety. Then the rope came up.

Only then did I allow myself to breathe easy. We were safe. The cannibals, it seemed, had not even attempted to pursue us. Why? We all wondered but weren’t likely to find answers lingering at the edge of the forest. So we moved on.

We followed the same circuitous route we had originally pursued, but in reverse. Now that we were safe in the trees, we allowed ourselves time to rest. Even Caspersen slept well when we reached the first traveler’s hut. Twice, we had to remain for an extra spell due to inclement weather—the first time, a frigid rainstorm, and the second, an ice storm.

The professor was mostly sulky and silent throughout the trek. Now that we’d escaped with our lives, we were more forgiving of his incompetence. But he didn’t escape the occasional joke at his expense. A small price for nearly killing us.

He remained as protective as ever of his machines and worried more than once that we would be caught in the rain, far from shelter. So when the sky looked foreboding, we waited at the nearest waystation until it cleared.

Our return trip through the forest, then, took several extra days. At length, though, we reached the City. The Keplerites were pleased to see that we had returned alive and greeted us here and there with cheering and accolades.

“They really must have considered this a suicide mission.” I hadn’t realized just how bad they thought things looked for us.

“It almost was, remember?” Kayleigh said dryly.

We headed straight for Gat’s house. A crowd had gathered there, at least as great as the one that greeted our initial arrival. Gat was there, too, grinning ear to ear. He forwent the traditional handshake, opting instead to wrap us each, one by one, in a hug. Only now did I begin to suspect this was more than a celebration of our return.

Ending at Caspersen, Gat embraced her warmly, and then stood back to shake her hand. “I do not believe it. You are back. And what you have done for us! How did you manage it? We felt it all the way out here.” He seemed almost beside himself with joy, and releasing her hands, he wrapped her in a second hug. “There are not thanks enough.”

It was now that I spied Cohen in the crowd, standing rather near Gat. In quiet tones, in our own flavor of English, I asked, “What the hell’s going on? What are they talking about?”

He seemed confused by the question. “The Mountain. You guys took down half the Mountain. That was you, right?”

I nodded. “Yes. Well, Carter. But why are they thanking us?”

His confusion seemed to be mounting. “Because it unleashed a wave of lava that swept most of the cannibals away with it? And then the avalanche.” He frowned. “Did you really not know?”

I shook my head. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later.” I inched through the throng toward Caspersen. She was stalling, trying to figure out what Gat was talking about without appearing ignorant of the situation. “We owe much to Dr. Carter,” I intervened, addressing the head of the Nation in as conversational a tone as possible. “It was he who fired the round that set off the avalanche. And to Bak as well, for he led us both to the site and back again to safety. Without both of them, we would never have been able to destroy the cannibals.”

Our crew looked at me in astonishment, but Gat beamed. “Then tonight,” he said, “we feast in your honor—all of your honors, but particularly Dr. Carter’s and Bak’s. For you have done what sixty generations of Kepler’s children could not. You have destroyed the stronghold of the Lava Dwellers.”