"You know, I think you're right. There is something," Will said as they drew to a halt, sniffing.
"Hmmm, a fast-food place, maybe?" Chester suggested wistfully. "I'd give my little finger for a supersized Mac Meal right now."
"It's like something… sweet," Will said, a look of intense concentration on his face as he took a further succession of deep sniffs.
"Whatever it is, let's not bother," Chester proposed. He became nervous, darting cautious glances around him so that he appeared a little like a strutting pigeon. "I really don't want to meet those Coprolite things."
Cal turned to him. "Look, how many times do I have to tell you? They're completely harmless. People in the Colony say you can take what you like from them, if you can find them in the first place."
Since Chester didn't make any sort of response, Cal continued. "We have to investigate anything unusual. If we've noticed it, Will's father might've, too, and that's what we're sort of here for, isn't it?" he finished sarcastically. "In any case, we had to stay on this side of the canal because you didn't want to get your feet wet." Cal bent to pick up a stone, which he threw aggressively. It hit the water with a loud splash!
"You never let up, or shut up, do you?" Chester groaned.
"Oh, yeah?" Cal replied.
"Well, it's funny, but I didn't see you stripping off and jumping in the canal headfirst." Chester glared at the younger boy. "What's the saying — lead by example? "
"What do you mean, lead? We don't have a leader; we're all in this together, remember?"
"Could've fooled me."
"C'mon, guys," Will pleaded. "Knock it off. We don't need this."
The trio lapsed into an aggrieved silence as they set off again, the bickering between Cal and Chester suspended for the moment.
Then Cal peeled away from Will and Chester, taking a route perpendicular to the canal.
"It's coming from over here."
He stopped as the beam of his lantern caught a rocky outcrop. Next to this was an opening, a naturally formed slit in the ground, like a large letterbox.
As the other two peered into the opening, Will happened to catch sight of a cross staked into the earth by the side of the outcrop. The cross was fashioned from two pieces of wood, bleached as white as bone and somehow bound together.
"What does that mean?" he asked, pointing it out to Cal.
"Bet it's a Coprolite marker," his brother replied, nodding enthusiastically. "If we're in luck, there could be a settlement down there, and they're certain to have some food. We can help ourselves to all we want."
"I'm not too sure about this," Will shook his head.
"Will, let's just forget it and keep going," Chester urged his friend, staring into the hole apprehensively. "I don't like the look of it, either."
"You don't like the look of anything," Cal spat at him. "Why don't you stay here while I take a look," he said, and scuttled down into the opening. After a few seconds, he shouted up to them that he'd found a passageway.
Will and Chester were too weary to say anything to stop him, knowing full well they'd get into another fight. With reluctance, they both followed him in. Clambering down, they found themselves in a horizontal gallery. Cal hadn't waited for them and was already some distance farther into it. They went after him, but it wasn't easy going. As the gallery pinched down to a small passageway, Will was forced to dump his backpack, next to where Cal had already shed his.
"I hate this," Chester groaned. Both he and Will were breathing hard as they pulled themselves along, sometimes dropping onto their chests to squeeze through the places where the passage ceiling lowered.
Chester was struggling. Will could hear his friend's labored breathing as he wormed his way along. He still hadn't recovered from the months of incarceration in the Hold, despite the brief rests on the Miners' Train and at the old Styx house.
"Why don't you turn around? We'll meet you back at the entrance," Will suggested.
"Nah, it's OK," Chester puffed, grunting with the effort as he forced himself through a particularly narrow gap. "Got this far, haven't I?" he added.
"OK, if you're sure."
After a couple of minutes, Will was relieved to find that the height of the ceiling was increasing, and they were able to stand once again.
And there was Cal, some fifty feet away, poised before the entrance to another long cavern. As Will and Chester stretched their limbs, he waved to them. Then he was off, brandishing his lantern before him. Will and Chester watched him go.
"He's fast, I'll give him that. I reckon he's got some rabbit in him," Chester said, breathing more steadily.
"Are you feeling better?" Will asked him, noticing the pained way Chester was rubbing his arms and how the perspiration was running down his face.
"Sure."
"We'd better catch up to him, then," Will said. "I don't like this smell at all. Really sickly," he added, wrinkling his nose.
They came to the spot where Cal had been standing and looked in.
They could feel the dryness in the air and the smell had become even more intense. It wasn't pleasant; there was an insubstantiality to it, and warning bells were beginning to ring in Will's head. He knew instinctively there was something false about it, something saccharine.
Cal was now exploring an area of the floor that was dotted with many large, rounded boulders. On these were clusters of pipelike structures protruding upward, some reaching several feet in height. Each cluster had a few larger pipes in its center, each about five inches in diameter, and around these were groupings of smaller ones, all radiating outward.
The pipes were slightly lighter in color than the rocks on which they stood, and from where he was standing, Will could see that the outsides of these pipes had definite rings circumscribing them every inch or so. To his eye, this suggested that the extensions secreted their casings as they grew. He also observed that they were anchored to the boulders by some sort of resinous secretion, like an organic glue.
They were living creatures.
Fascinated, he took a step closer.
"Will, do you think this is safe?" Chester said, grabbing his arm to hold him back.
Will just shrugged, and was peering back into the cavern when they both saw Cal lose his footing. He grabbed at the top of one of the tubes to steady himself, but withdrew his hand quickly. There was a sound, as if someone had snapped their fingers, but sharper. Cal recovered his balance and straightened up.
"Ouch," he said quietly, looking at his hand with a mystified expression.
"Cal?" Will called.
For a heartbeat the boy stood there, his back to them, still examining his hand.
Then he simply crumpled to the ground.
"CAL!"
Will and Chester exchanged frantic glances, and Will started to move forward but found Chester was still gripping his arm.
"Let me go!" he said, trying to detach himself.
"No!" Chester shouted at him.
"I have to!" Will said, struggling.
Chester released him, but Will halted after a few steps.
"What the…" Chester gasped.
They could hear it. More snaps, growing louder and more frequent. Muted, dry-sounding clicks, getting faster and faster until they merged into one resounding barrage. The terrified boys turned this way and that, trying to figure out where the throbbing percussive cacophony was coming from. But they couldn't tell; nothing appeared to have changed in the cavern where Cal lay.
"We have to get him out!" Will yelled, and started forward.
They both rushed to Cal's side. Chester eyed the columns around them with caution as Will squatted down to roll the boy over onto his back. He was limp and unresponsive, his eyes open and staring.
At first they thought he had just been stunned, but even as they watched, livid purple lines, accenting the network of capillaries beneath his skin, spread from under each of his eyes, much as ink permeates through water. With terrifying rapidity, the bruises grew large
r, until they were encroaching upon his cheeks. It looked as though he had two huge black eyes.
"What's going on? What's wrong with him?" Will shouted, his voice hoarse with panic.
Chester looked blank. "I don't know," he said.
"Did he bang his head on something?" Will yelled.
Chester examined Cal's head, running his hand over his crown and down to the nape of his neck. There was no sign of any injury. "Check his breathing," he muttered to himself, trying to recall first-aid procedures. Tilting back Cal's head, he leaned forward so his ear was over the boy's nose and mouth, and listened. He pulled back slightly, vexed. Then he leaned forward again, forcing Cal's jaw farther down to check that his airway wasn't blocked by an obstruction, and once again cocked his head to one side to listen. Blowing through his lips, Chester sat back on his haunches and placed his hand on the boy's chest.
"Will! I don't think he's breathing!"
Will grabbed his brother's limp arm and shook him.
"Cal! Cal! Come on! Wake up!" he cried.
He placed two fingers on the boy's neck, feeling for the artery and frantically trying to find a pulse.
"Here… No… Where is it?... Nothing… WHERE IS IT?" he yelled. "Am I doing this right?" He looked at Chester, his eyes wide with the wrenching, screaming awareness that he couldn't find a heartbeat.
That his brother was dead.
At that very moment, the clicks were replaced by another sound. A soft popping similar to that of champagne corks going off, but gentler, as if heard through a wall.
A streaming, fluxing whiteness instantly filled the air. The deluge engulfed the boys, catching in the beams of their lights and clogging the space. These particles, like a million tiny petals, spewed forth in torrents. They could have been coming from the tubes, but it was so dense it was impossible to tell.
"No!" Will shrieked.
With a hand clapped over his nose and mouth, he began to heave his brother by his arm, trying to drag him toward the entrance of the cavern. But Will found he couldn't draw breath; the particles were like sand, blocking his mouth and nostrils.
He arched his back and swallowed a little air, enough for him to shout a few words at Chester. "Get him out!" he cried over the incessant popping.
Chester didn't need to be told, but was floundering under the onslaught, blinking and shielding his eyes as the dry, snow-like material continued to spurt forth. The air was so thick and impenetrable that, as he waved at Will, his arm left swirling eddies behind it.
Will slipped and fell to the ground, coughing and choking. "Can't breathe," he wheezed with what little air he had left in his lungs. Lying on his side, he struggled to fill them again, cursing inside as he thought of the gas masks he and Cal had used in the Eternal City. They'd dumped them, figuring they would be of no further use. They'd been wrong.
With his hand held over his face, Will stayed on his side, panting, unable to do anything. Through the deluge he saw Chester hauling Cal along, the boy's body leaving tracks behind it in the whiteness.
Will forced himself to crawl, his lungs aching from lack of oxygen, his head spinning. He couldn't think about his brother; he knew he was going to succumb if he didn't get out of the cavern. His throat and nostrils were blocked as if he'd been buried in flour. With a supreme effort he staggered to his feet and managed a few steps. Chester, his back to Will, was still pulling and heaving Cal's lifeless body.
Will launched himself forward, propelling himself only a couple of paces before collapsing to the ground again. It was enough. He was away from the worst of the swirling maelstrom of whiteness and able to suck in some clean air.
He continued at a slow crawl but hadn't gone very far when he doubled up and coughed so much he was sick, uncontrollably so. To his horror, his vomit was awash with the minute pale particles and small slugs of blood. With the single thought of survival in his mind, he forced himself down the passageway on his hands and knees, pulling himself blindly through the narrow stretch, and didn't stop until he'd reached the letterbox opening.
He heaved himself back out onto the Great Plain and lay coughing and spluttering and throwing up a mottled fluid. But his ordeal wasn't over yet. Where the white specks had stuck to the exposed skin of his neck and face, they began to irritate it, the irritation very quickly transforming into the most excruciating burning sensation. He tried to scratch off the particles, but this just seemed to make things worse: As the white specks came away, they took the skin with them. Soon blood was smeared all over his fingers.
Not knowing what else to do, he grabbed handfuls of dirt and scrubbed furiously at his face and neck. This seemed to do the trick, the intolerable itching and pain easing a little. But his eyes were still on fire, and it took him some minutes to wipe them clean using the inside of his shirtsleeve.
Then Chester appeared. He scrambled up through the opening, staggering around blindly. As he fell on all fours and coughed and retched, Will saw that he had been dragging something behind him. Through his watering eyes, he thought it was Cal. But his heart sank as he realized it was just the rucksacks.
Chester howled, clawing at his face. He was completely covered in the white particles, his hair matted with them and his face furred where they had stuck in his sweat. He howled again, scratching violently at his neck as if he were trying to tear off his own skin. "It burns!" he cried in a strangled, tortured wail.
"Use the dirt, rub it off!" Will yelled.
Chester immediately did so, seizing handfuls of soil and scouring his face with it.
"Make sure it's out of your eyes!"
Chester rummaged in his pants pocket and, bringing out a handkerchief, dabbed urgently at his eyes. After a short while his movements became less frantic. Snot streamed from his nose, and his eyes were still watering and rimmed bright red. His face was a mixture of streaked dirt and blood, as if he were wearing some ghastly mask. He looked at Will with a haunted expression.
"I couldn't take it any longer," he croaked. "I couldn't stay in there… I couldn't breathe." He broke into a racking cough.
"I've got to get him out," Will said, starting toward the opening. "I'm going back in."
"No, you're not!" Chester snapped, leaping to his feet and seizing hold of him.
"I have to!" Will protested, trying to pull away.
"Don't be stupid, Will! What if these things get you, and I can't get you out!" Chester shouted.
Will grappled with his friend, struggling to break loose, but Chester was determined not to let him go. In sheer frustration, Will made a halfhearted attempt to punch Chester, and then began to sob. He knew what Chester was saying made sense. His whole body went limp, as if all his strength had suddenly deserted him.
"OK, OK," Will said in an unsteady voice, holding his hands up to Chester, who released him. He coughed, then threw back his head as if looking for the sky, even though he knew it was hidden from him by many miles of the earth's mantle. He sighed a sigh that shook his whole body as the realization sank in.
"You're right. Cal's dead.," he said.
Chester fixed his eyes on Will, nodding once.
"I'm sorry, Will, I really am."
"He was just trying to help. He was trying to find us some food… and now look what happened." Will's shoulders sank and he bowed his head.
As his raw skin continued to burn, Will rubbed his neck, his hand touching and unconsciously closing around the jade pendant that hung there. It had been given to him by Tam minutes before he was slaughtered by the Styx. "I promised Uncle Tam I'd take care of Cal. I gave him my word," he said bleakly, turning away. "What are we doing here? How did all this happen?" He coughed, and then spoke in a small voice. "Dad's probably dead somewhere just like that, and we're idiots and we're going to die, too. I'm sorry, Chester — game over. We're done for."
Leaving his lantern behind, he walked away from Chester, stumbling toward a boulder. There, in the dark, he sat down and stared into the nothingness before him, as it stared back into hi
m.
18
With a loud lash of the whip, the carriage left the Jerome house. It passed through the cordon as a barricade was hurriedly pulled aside by some policemen. A small crowd had gathered farther down the road, and Colonists were doing their best to appear to be going about their everyday business. They failed miserably, craning their necks toward the cab in a bid to see who was inside, as indeed many of the policemen.
Sarah gazed vacantly through the window, oblivious to the faces and their curious stares. She was utterly exhausted from the reunion with her mother.
"You do realize you're somewhat of a celebrity," Rebecca said as she sat by the old Styx, the younger one having remained behind at the Jerome house.
Sarah gave the girl a glassy-eyed stare before turning to the window again.
The carriage rattled through the streets to the farthermost corner of the South Cavern, where the Styx compound stood. The compound was encircled by a thirty-foot wrought-iron fence, and within it was a huge, forbidding building. Its seven stories were carved from the very rock itself, and it had two square towers at either end of its frontage. The building, known as the Styx Citadel, was functional and stark, its rough stone walls without a single decorative feature to relieve its geometric simplicity. No Colonist had ever set foot in it, and nobody knew exactly what went on inside or quite how big it was, since the structure penetrated so deep into the actual bedrock. There had been talk that the Citadel was linked to the surface by various tunnels so the Styx could make their way up whenever they wanted.
Also within the compound, to the side of the Citadel, was a large but far squatter building, with ranks of small and regularly spaced windows dotted through its two stories. Referred to as the Garrison, it was generally thought to be the center of the Styx's military operations. Unlike the Citadel, Colonists were permitted into this building and, indeed, a number worked there in the service of the Styx.
And it was to this building, the Garrison, that the carriage went. Disembarking, Sarah unquestioningly followed Rebecca to the entrance, where a policeman in a sentry box touched his cap respectfully, his eyes averted. Once inside the Garrison, Rebecca handed Sarah over to a Colonist and promptly left.