Chapter Six
Thus, Resita and I dashed down the hallway, stumbling blindly through the light, whilst the lizard creatures roared and cried in agony and anger. 'Twas the most horrible sound I had ever heard from another living creature, for it sounded like they were being melted to death, or perhaps burning underneath a lamp hotter than the sun. Methinks I smelled their burning flesh, which was like roasted chicken, though it could just as easily have been mine flesh being broiled in the heat of the bomb.
I wanted to ask Resita what had happened, but we were both running as fast as we could and I had no breath with which to utter even one word. I merely ran, ran and ran and ran, until Resita shouted, “We're almost there!”
There? Where was there? I could see naught in the bright light, which I now realized was not as bright as it could have been thanks to the goggles covering mine eyes. I had thought there was nothing down this way, Resita must have found some alternative escape route for us.
Without warning, Resita turned to the right, causing me to nearly trip over myself as I turned to follow. Then I felt his claw let go of mine arm and heard him shout, “Jump forward, Apakerec!”
Whilst I still had no idea what was going on here, I obeyed his command anyway. I leaped forward, like I was diving into a pool, but rather than hit the floor as I thought, I found myself sliding down a chute that was shockingly dark after the brightness of the hallway.
Gah! How dark was this chute! How my stomach twisted and turned as we went down, down, down! The stench in this chute was like rat excrement and slime and icky slime clung to my body as I slid down after Resita. A muddy, slimy goop entered my mouth when I opened it to shout, causing me to hack and cough as we fell faster and faster down the chute.
Soon, I could no longer hear the frightened cries and growls of the lizard creatures. All that mine ears did hear was the rushing of the wind as Resita and I slid, plus the hideous squelching of goop under my sliding body.
Then a light appeared up ahead, though between mine darkened goggles and the slime that stuck to them, I almost did not recognize it at first. But soon it became obvious that that was to be our destination, though where this chute emptied out to, I knew not.
And then we shot out through the light into what felt like a disgusting swamp. Resita went out first, but I followed soon after, and crashed into him, sending us both tumbling through the stink and slime in a confused heap. How awful it was, tumbling like this! For mine hair and clothes became sticky with the goop and slime, and I could feel Resita's feathers getting all over me like parasites!
But then we slammed into something solid and hard, which not only stopped our progress (thank the Old Gods!) but also separated us. How, exactly, it did that, I did not understand, because the collision was so sudden, like a bee's sudden sting.
Yet the fact now was that I lay in the slop on my back, my whole body aching from the crash. The goggles had slipped on my face; my left eye saw a much darker world than mine right, though the right one was still adjusting to the sudden change in lighting.
“Ooooh,” said Resita, who based on his moaning sounded as if he had broken every bone in his body. “You know, I don't think I will ever do that again.”
I lifted mine head to get a better look at Resita. He lay flat on his back, just as I, though his legs were up in the air, as if he had fallen from the sky. His yellow feathers were now covered in a muck and goop that made mine stomach crawl, even though I was in no right mind to understand what that coating on him even was.
“What … did ye do … exactly?” I said. I spat out some of that foul tasting muck from mine mouth, banishing it like the toxin it was. “I do not understand what happened to us.”
“Well, it was supposed to be … simple,” said Resita, who sounded as if his vocal chords had been ripped from his throat. “That bomb I set off? It's what we Xeeonites call a blind bomb. As the name suggests, it blinds people by creating a ridiculously bright light. Some models make loud sounds, too, but most of them just do the light.”
Panting, I said, “Ah, I see. 'Twas like a miniature sun had exploded in the middle of the room. How did we not go permanently blind?”
“The goggles,” said Resita. He gestured with one chipped claw at his face and then at mine. “Why else do you think I put those goggles over your eyes? If I hadn't done that, both of us would have gone completely blind. It's one of the side effects of the blind bomb.”
“What a gruesome thought,” I said with a shudder. “But why did ye come back for me? I thought ye were going to hide and hope that the monsters did not find ye.”
“That was the original plan,” Resita admitted, his chest heaving up and down. “But I just couldn't stand the idea of letting you die. I mean, we don't know each other very well, but if you had died, I would have felt responsible for it.”
“Ye speak kind words, Resita, but ye need not worry about I,” I said. “'Twould not have been your responsibility if I had died, for I had made that choice on my own and would have been the one to live with the consequences.”
“Technically, you would have died with the consequences of that decision,” Resita remarked. “Anyway, that's not the whole reason I saved you. It's because I discovered another way out that didn't force us to fight two dozen of those monsters to escape.”
“Indeed?” I said. “And what was that?”
Resita raised one feathery, muck-covered arm slowly and waved it around. “This is it.”
For the first time since we had crashed into here, I looked around at mine surroundings. I normally did this as soon as I entered a new and unfamiliar area; however, my initial entrance had disoriented all of mine senses, though by now they had recovered and I could see where we were.
Four tall, solid concrete walls surrounded us, like we had fallen into a large box. The walls were coated with more of that disgusting muck, layers so thick I would not even have known that the walls underneath were concrete if I had not observed the tops of the walls, which were not covered with the muck.
On each wall was a gaping chute, like the mouth of a dragon, from which the stinky, awful muck came. Not much was leaking out of these chutes, but I could tell that all of the collective gunk and slime down here had come from those chutes, for there was no other place all of this could have come from.
I sat up, raising my arms, from which the excrement and goop dripped. It was the most disgusting feeling in the two worlds, even worse than the time Sir Alart and I had gotten stuck in the swamps of the Lower Panhandle. How long this stink would last, I did not know, but I could foresee many months of hard scrubbing and bathing before I came close to being half as clean as I was before.
“What pit of disgusting grime is this?” I said, looking at Resita, who, like I, was also sitting up. “'Tis like a pigpen, except pigpens are infinitely cleaner than this.”
“That's because this is …” Resita looked like he was searching hard for the right words. “This is basically where we Foundation members toss all of our garbage and other, uh, unwanted things when we're done with them. A sort of garbage/sewer system hybrid, if you will.”
Some blue candy wrapper, with Xeeonish words written on it, floated by me. A half-eaten chunk of meat stuck between two coarse-looking buns also stood out of the muck, making my stomach churn.
“Why in the names of the Old Gods would ye do this?” I asked. I felt hot vomit rise in my throat before I pushed it down. “This is horrifying. 'Tis like being condemned to an eternity in a baby's diaper.”
“Hey, I hate this just as much as you do,” said Resita, shaking his arms, though that appeared to do little to make him cleaner. “But it was either this or we get torn to shreds by those lizard creatures. I'd rather drink a gallon of sewer water than get ripped apart by those monsters.”
“Speak for yourself, bird,” I said, scowling and wrinkling my nose, which burned as hotly as if it had been set aflame. “At least if those lizards had gotten us, we would have gone down fighting. This is
simply disgraceful. If Sir Alart or the rest of my fellow Knights knew of my current predicament—”
“Then don't tell them about it once we get out of here,” said Resita. “But honestly, I can't believe this. Are you really saying you would have preferred to die than to get a little icky? If all of you Knights are like this, then I'm shocked you guys are still around.”
“We Knights are not suicidal, if that is what ye are implying,” I said. I peeled off some kind of fruit skin from my shirt and tossed it aside. “We simply understand that in some instances, it is much better to die than to suffer this kind of embarrassment. Though I wouldn't expect ye to understand; clearly, ye know nothing about the depths and dimensions of honor or the words of the Knight's Code.”
“Guess I don't,” said Resita, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, I think we're safe here. Those lizards back there are probably all blind as bats now, and even if they do figure out where we went, they won't be able to follow us. None of them can fit in those chutes.”
“That is good to know indeed,” I said as I scraped off some of the thick muck on my arms. “Though if I may ask, why were these chutes designed to be large enough for us to slip through? Do ye Foundation people regularly slide down these chutes?”
“Ha, ha,” said Resita. “Very funny. But no, I don't know for sure why these chutes are so big. I think it's supposed to make sure that the pipes don't get clogged with junk. Whatever the reason, I'd say it worked out quite well for us, wouldn't you say?”
“If by 'well' ye mean 'made us dirtier than the filthiest pirate on the Red Sea,' then yes, it did work very well for us,” I said. I began to stand up to mine full height. “Anyway, I do not wish to stay in this place any longer. The stink is as awful as a thousand poisons and my tolerance for it is rapidly waning.”
Resita, too, rose to his feet, though he did not look much the better for it, for his feathers were all messy and his clothes were covered in that gunk. “Yes, I agree. The sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can find a working shower. Or better yet, a full-body disinfectant system.”
“A what?” I said.
“A full-body disinfectant system,” Resita repeated. He looked at me with concern, like I was one of the slower folks who lived at the asylums back on Dela. “They're like showers, except that they use lasers to kill one hundred percent of germs on your body. Don't you have them on Dela?”
“Nay,” I said, shaking mine head. “We allow the cool, clean and imminently natural water to cleanse us when we become dirty. Some wizards and witches will use magical spells, but I know of none that use lasers in the way ye describe.”
“Well, that explains why you Delanians are always so dirty,” Resita said with a huff. “You use outdated and inefficient ways to clean yourselves. But maybe one of these days, someone will figure out a way to convince your people to bath better.”
“Only peasants are dirty,” I said. I gestured at myself. “We Knights of Se-Dela are held to only the strictest of cleanly standards, for we serve King Waran-Una, who does not tolerate dirt in his presence. Every night, we scrub thoroughly until we are cleaner than the air of the Fertile Lands.”
“Soap and water isn't as effective as lasers,” Resita argued. Then he shook his head, causing a couple more feathers to fall out. “Never mind. We need to find a way out of here. After that, then we can find the field agents, maybe reunite with the Delanian branch, and … I don't know what to do after that.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What do ye mean, ye don't know what to do after that? Don't ye Foundation people have a plan in case of this sort of emergency?”
“If there was one, no one ever told me about it, since I was the janitor,” Resita grumbled, shaking his hands to get the gunk off them.
“I wonder if Xacron-Ah is behind this,” I said. I reached up to stroke my chin, but stopped because mine hand was still covered in this muck, so I lowered it back to my side. “Is this the sort of thing someone of his character would do?”
“Maybe? I don't know,” said Resita, shrugging. “I've never met the man. Nor have I ever been given any orders to look into his past. From what I do know of him, though, I don't see how he could possibly be behind this, unless he just happens to have an army of lizard humanoids for the express purpose of killing his enemies.”
“Perhaps he does,” I said. “Though I will admit that I know of no such species like that on Dela. Perhaps there is such a people in the Underside, but I do not know for sure.”
“We can worry about this later,” said Resita. He coughed like he was dying of a terrible disease. “As I said, we need to find a way out of here. I've studied the blueprints of HQ, so I know that there is a drainage pipe around here somewhere. It should take us out of the city and into the Dead Lands.”
I grimaced. “The Dead Lands? Is that where Xeeon's waste is dumped?”
“Yep,” said Resita, nodding. “There's nothing out there, so it's not a big environmental issue or anything.”
“But I have heard rumors of decadent mechanical monstrosities living out there,” I said. “Such as the Destroyer, for example.”
“We don't have to worry about that right now,” said Resita in a dismissive voice. “Anyway, the drainage pipe will probably dump us in the middle of nowhere. But that's not a problem, because once we escape, it shouldn't be hard for us to contact the field agents or the Delanian branch and regroup.”
“I shall defer to your expertise, for ye, as a Xeeonite, are far more knowledgeable about your world and your city than I am,” I said. I looked around the four concrete walls around us. “Now, where is the exit?”
“It should be around here somewhere,” said Resita as he began walking through the muck, his claws making squashing sounds as he did so. “It's covered under all of this crap. This place isn't very big, though, so it shouldn't take us very long to find it.”
I did not wish to scurry about this place like a rat, but the only other alternative was to stay in this vile place and let the stink slowly suffocate me. I prayed to the Old Gods for strength and then began slogging through the excrement and garbage at my feet, feeling it get betwixt my toes. This must have been my punishment from the Old Gods for something wrong I had done recently; it had to be because I had mocked Sir Alart's mechanical eye behind his back that one time. This seemed like disproportionate retribution to me, but then I remembered the story of the Old Gods and the burning house and I decided that I had gotten off light (though I still made a note to apologize to Sir Alart the moment I got out of this vile pit).
“What may we be looking for, friend?” I said as I sloshed through the garbage. “I do not know what this exit would look or feel like.”
“We're looking for a hatch,” Resita said without looking at me, for his beady bird eyes were focused on the garbage at our feet. “The way this system is set up, there should be a hatch that opens occasionally when the dump gets full enough. It then transports the garbage and crap to a landfill in the Dead Lands, though it's not a landfill connected with the city, so we don't have to worry about Xacron-Ah or any of our other enemies meeting us on the other end.”
Mine stomach churned at the thought of sliding down yet another pipe with this awful mixture coating its interior. 'Twas as appealing as rolling in the mud with a pig, though pigpens were far cleaner than this filth.
Then I felt a handle of some sort beneath the slop. It felt like a ring, round and metal, but even so, I could tell that it was likely the handle of the hatch that Resita had mentioned. What great luck, I thought, though I did not bend down to grab it, for that would have meant bringing mine face closer to the stinky mess covering my feet.
“Resita!” I called out, waving at him from where I stood. “I believe I have found the hatch of which ye spoke! 'Tis right here.”
Resita made his way over to me with much sloshing and squelching, until he was right next to me. I kicked at the handle to indicate where it was before he could ask.
“That was fast,” said Resita,
though he did not sound at all disappointed with the speed at which I found it. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let's open it.”
“We can just open it ourselves?” I said in disbelief. “I thought that ye Xeeonites had set it to open itself, perhaps through some technological sorcery of yours.”
“Technological sorcery?” said Resita, repeating the phrase as if it were a foreign term. “What is—never mind. Anyway, ordinarily it is supposed to open on its own. But that doesn't mean it can't be opened manually as well. Why else do you think it has a hatch with a handle on it?”
I folded my arms over my chest and stepped back. “Well, I am certain ye can do it on your own, Resita. I will simply stand back and watch as ye do it and then follow once the drain is open.”
“Me?” said Resita. He looked as mortified as if I had suggested that he climb Mount Karna without any ropes. “But I'm just a weak little janitor. That hatch is very heavy and, because you're a big brave Knight of Se-Dela, you could probably lift it far easier than me.”
“How do ye know how heavy that hatch is if ye have never opened it before?” I demanded. I pointed sharply at the muck around our feet. “'Tis no time for us to be arguing, anyway. The stink in here is starting to suffocate me, so we should not waste precious time arguing about who should open it and who shouldn't.”
“I agree,” said Resita. He stepped back and gestured at the spot where the hatch was. “You first, my friend. And no arguing; as you yourself said, we have no time for that kind of nonsense.”
I gritted mine teeth. Xeeonites were always annoying to me, because they did this sort of trickery and deception whenever they thought they could get away with it. They may have been a technologically advanced people, but sometimes they were as sly as the cleverest thief. Such as now, with Resita catching me in mine own words like a trapper frog caught in its own trap.
Grudgingly, I nodded and said, “Very well, then. I shall do it, and I shall do it in such a way that not even the Old Gods will forget it.”
So I stepped forward again and then bent over, reaching down toward the muck with my hands. Yet I hesitated when the tips of mine fingers were not more than an inch from the surface of the goop, as I did not wish to get myself any dirtier than I already was.
But 'twas only for a moment that I hesitated. In the next instant, I plunged my hands beneath the surface of the excrement and garbage and searched for the handle. Praise be to the Old Gods, for I found the handle after only a little searching and wrapped mine fingers around it easily.
Thus, I was fooled into believing that opening this hatch might not be as difficult a task as I once feared. I pulled hard, but the hatch did not budge. I pulled and heaved, putting all of mine strength into it, but the hatch still refused to budge, as if it were heavier than Castle Una itself.
But perhaps I could have opened it, if I had had any sort of footing. For the floor underneath the goop was slimy and slippery under mine bare feet, though there was naught I could do to improve that situation much.
After a few minutes of struggle, I let go and stood up. Mine back ached from having been bent over for as long as I had been, and my hands smelled as awful as if I had stuck them into a pile of cow manure. I looked at Resita, who still had his feathery arms over his chest, appearing more like a slave master disappointed by his slave's work than a friend.
“What?” said Resita, spreading his arms when he saw me looking at him. “Can't open it?”
“The hatch is quite heavy,” I said, gesturing at the surface of the muck where the hatch was under. “I cannot find any footing in this place, nor can I get a good grip on it. Notwithstanding the muck itself, which I fear is adding too much weight onto it.”
Resita sighed in exasperation. “Oh for the love of … never mind. Why don't we work together and see if we can lift it by combining our strength?”
“What is the heaviest thing ye have ever lifted?” I asked.
Resita looked at me as if I had asked him what color a square was. “What?”
“Ye heard me,” I said, jerking mine thumb at my chest. “What is the heaviest thing ye have ever lifted?”
Resita folded his arms again and put a thoughtful look on his bird-like features, a look of contemplation on par with the look of a Sage considering the future. “Uh, I think that would be the collapsible work desk I bought for my home when I was a freelance reporter for the Xeeon Daily. Why?”
I had no idea what a 'collapsible desk' was, but it did not sound very heavy to me. Still, I asked, “How much did it weigh?”
“Probably a little more than ten pounds, though I don't remember because that was years ago and I sold it after I quit my job at the paper,” said Resita. “Again, why?”
“A ten pound desk is hardly what I would call heavy,” I said with a snort. “I doubt ye will be of much help in opening this hatch.”
“So you just want to live in this stink pit for the rest of your livelong days?” said Resita. “Just because I'm not a bodybuilder like you?”
“I did not say that,” I said, shaking mine head. “I was simply acknowledging the truth of the matter, which is that ye are clearly not a very strong individual.”
“That's still not an excuse for not allowing me to help,” said Resita. He flexed his feathered fingers. “Let's at least try before you write me off as a weak little bird.”
I sighed a deep sigh, a profound sigh, for I knew what was destined to happen next. “Very well. Let us not dilly-dally, for I grow immensely sickened of this place by the second.”
Thus, the two of us bent over and grabbed the handle with both of our hands. 'Twas somewhat difficult, no doubt due to the fact that the handle was not very large, but we managed to get our hands around it nonetheless. Resita's feathered fingers brushed against mine, which combined with the muck that we stood in, made me wish to lift this hatch as fast as we could.
“All right,” said Resita. “On the count of three, we'll both pull up. Got it?”
“Understood,” I said, though I tried to say it without opening my mouth widely, for I did not want to inhale the stink that rose from the filth we stood in.
“All right,” said Resita, who looked as though he too was trying to avoid the stink just like me. “One … two … three!”
As soon as that word left his mouth, the two of us pulled up together. Again, I put all of mine strength into this effort, pulling as hard as I could, drawing on every ounce of strength I had in mine body. Based on the groans from Resita, I could tell that he also was using all of his strength to lift this hatch, which made me feel far less alone in this struggle than I thought I would.
We pulled and pulled and pulled, but the hatch did not budge no matter how hard we pulled. Mine feet began to slip, and I heard Resita's clawed toes scraping against the floor 'neath us, which told me that he, too, was beginning to slip. And still the damn hatch did not moved; 'twas as though it was glued to the floor.
My fingers began to ache, but I still did not let go. I redoubled my grip and repositioned my feet, though whether that would do any good I did not know. It was much harder to do than before, largely because of Resita's presence, for he stood quite close to me, giving me little room in which to maneuver and reposition myself. Still, I could tell that Resita was not going to give up, which made me think that what he lacked in physical strength, he made up for in mental strength and courage.
Even so, I was starting to lose hope. The burning desire to escape that had lit me up like an oven was slowly dying down as it became clearer and clearer that we could not escape. I did not know whether Resita shared these feelings, but whether he did or did not, all I knew was that I must continue, for if I did not, then the filth would claim us forever.
Then, without warning, the hatch began to rise. My spirits rose with it, even though at first I was not certain if the hatch was indeed rising.
All of my doubts were swept away down the drain, however, with the filth, because I heard a sucking sound underneath the hatc
h. I felt the filth being sucked past my feet into the hatch, which Resita and I were still in the process of lifting.
Then a loud popping noise, like unplugging a drain, echoed off the concrete walls and the hatch flew open. Resita and I let go of it at the same time, while even more garbage and filth flowed past our feet like disgusting water in a river of sludge. Resita cried out—or perhaps chirped, for that's what it sounded like—in happiness at our success, while I praised the Old Gods, who must have granted me and Resita the extra strength we needed to open the hatch.
Indeed, I likely would have begun to sing a hymn of the Old Gods right there and then, if I had not noticed the exact size and width of the hatch. My stomach churned again, but this time, it was less due to the sludge and filth around us and more due to the sudden realization that had just dawned on me like the early morning light.
But I did not dare speak this realization aloud, at least not until the last of the filth and garbage had been sucked into the drain, which revealed one problem that neither of us had anticipated:
The drain was too narrow for either of us to fit in.
***