Banshee (15 page)

Underneath: Day One

French was right about the lichens; in short order, Saavin found herself marveling at the riot of colors pulsing from rocks over and around them at every turn. The light suffused even the darkest nooks, and she felt the tension that had been held in her chest begin to loosen with each silent step downward into the kaleidoscopic marvels of the cave. The incline was gentle at first, then flat, and then punctuated with the odd steep drop that caused them to slide sideways down smooth stones that were slick with condensation. The cave was alive, and wondrously so. In the span of 100 steps, she saw formations as delicate as a dandelion standing next to squat gypsum mushrooms that looked indestructible. Enormous structures like frozen jellyfish hung from the walls, poised forever to contract their stone tentacles just one more time. The moisture increased and, with each passing step, the cave transitioned from terrestrial vigor to that silent nobility of the living cavern. She wished Banshee could see the wonders surrounding them, and then remembered why they were plunging deeper with each passing minute. After two hours of complete silence, French held up a fist indicating they should stop. She held herself like a dancer, frozen in a pose with her muscles shaking from the effort it took to seem casually still.

“Water ahead.” His voice was low, but he didn’t whisper. Contrary to popular myth, whispering made a voice carry far more than simply speaking in a low tone.

She nodded once, indicating understanding, and he moved toward the left wall, a wobbly limestone face that soared upward more than twenty meters. A cutting groove ran through bone-colored rock, hiding a trickle of water that disappeared into the pebbles of a pothole no more than a meter across. The smell of water and minerals caused her to salivate, but she remained in position. French stared hard at the tiny pool where the groove terminated. Saavin saw nothing. The water burbled innocently.

With great care, French picked up a small stone and flipped it at the edge of the water. The pool boiled in an explosion of violence as a lurid blue crayfish with claws like garden shears rushed from the shadows and grabbed at the stone, crushing it with an audible crack. Saavin’s breath caught as she involuntarily recoiled. With an angry flip of its tail, the creature retreated to the water.

“Jesus, that thing hid in there?” she asked. The creature seemed larger than the hole it had burst from.

“Mm-hmm. And we need that water, but we also need that critter.” French busied himself with his collapsible pole, screwing a barbed metal point onto the fiberglass spear. He did so with a grim smile. “That right there is dinner. And breakfast, too, unless we can eat thirty pounds of lobster.”

Saavin stifled a laugh. “Is it safe to eat? Not that I’m complaining. I didn’t know this was a date.”

“Only the finest for the lady.” He gave her a jaunty salute and crept closer to the pool. “One chance, here we go.” His hands leapt forward in a blur and Saavin heard the distinct clack of a strike underwater. The spear jerked once as French withdrew the enormous crayfish, pulling it to the edge of the water and twisting the point free from the middle of a blue carapace that was comically huge. The creature shivered once and stilled. “Nerve nexus. They’re essentially glorified insects, and one stick to the right spot puts them down.”

Saavin gaped at the thing. It was longer than her leg, wider than her waist, and the claws looked like they were carved from lapis lazuli. “Is . . . is everything down here like this?” she asked. Hesitation slowed her words, and she took a calming breath with some effort.

French flipped the crayfish over. “This isn’t that unusual, really. Technically, you could call this a lobster, and they get huge when they’re given enough time to grow, but this one is far younger than the hundred odd years it would take to get this big on the open ocean.” He worked as he spoke, expertly disassembling the mechanical-looking beast. The tail flesh was pearlescent and moist.

“That’s a baby?” Saavin asked. She leaned in to examine the parts as he separated flesh from shell. “I’m not surprised. The Old Staters tell us that growth rates of every animal are different since the rising. And the fall of humans, too.”

French held up a sliver of flesh to her on the point of his knife. “Taste that. It’s better than anything we can pull out of the lakes. You’d have to tell me if it stacks up against any saltwater versions you may have dined on.”

She chewed thoughtfully. “Sweet. Very clean. It’s a lot better than the shallow water lobster we pull from the tidal pools and traps. That’s really good. Is it as fatty as it seems?”

“Even more so. A few ounces of this little tank”—he tapped the carapace appreciatively with the pommel of his knife—“and you can go all day. But, rest assured we won’t have to.” He smiled at her as she took two more slices from the tail.

“You have other dinner plans for us?” She spoke around the lobster, her eyes half closed as she considered the flavor, deciding that giant blue cave crayfish was now among her favorite foods.
And the trip begins to get weird
, she thought.
Weirder
, she corrected.

“I don’t, but the cave does. There are far more edible things down here than this fellow.” He began to eat carefully, never letting his eyes stop their endless sweep.

To Saavin, their impromptu meal seemed relatively benign, but she knew that the scent and sound of their repast could be dangerous. French’s body language confirmed her suspicions, and she felt herself tense. When he noticed her state of readiness, he waved a hand slowly, indicating she should stand down. “I rarely relax. Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. When we stop for this day, we’ll take two-hour watches. There’s a ledge a few hours ahead that provides three sides of safety, and its elevation will give us a vantage point before we enter the first of the great halls.”

“How big a space will we be looking at?” Saavin continued eating as French unrolled a single loose page from his sketch book.

He was an excellent artist, and meticulous. She instantly recognized where they had been, and a quick glance along the left-hand wall revealed that they were poised for a wild series of dips and narrows, albeit all in one single, manageable path. He pointed at a voluminous space that was nearly two miles ahead and down. “This is the first real challenge. Up until this point, we’re walking. There, we climb a slip fault that spans the first major sink area. It’s a hard climb. I call it the Chandeliers, and it’s as treacherous as it is beautiful. It’s also the transition point between the two ecosystems.”

“It is steep? It doesn’t look like it, according to this,” she asked, adding, “what two ecosystems? Wouldn’t there simply be just the one? Underneath?

He waggled his hand while grimacing. “Yes and no. To both questions. It’s only about eighty feet of elevation to gain, but it spans two thin gorges and a flume that seems to be seasonal. The ceiling seeps, and it’s incredibly slick flowstone covered with algae. There’s really only one way to do it.”

“Hammer and piton? In that soft rock?” She shook her head. “I don’t know . . . sounds bad, and I’m no climber.”

He grinned and began wrapping long, thin fillets of meat with the worn foil. “There’s a dry channel to the north; we’ll climb there. The problem is
getting
to the track we need. We’ll have to wade at best, but it might be deep enough to swim.”

“That explains the goggles.” She frowned. “I hope none of this guy’s relatives are in the water.” She gave a mock shudder as he stood, their next meal stowed away.

“Actually, they would be enviable compared to what I think is down here, but I’ve got plans for our success. Like I said, the water level will determine our pat but, rest assured, nothing will stop us from getting to that subsidence you saw from Banshee’s back.” His voice was rough with determination, and Saavin caught herself nodding in agreement. “We’ll take the best parts of this guy to eat, but the rest will go along as chum. I plan on clearing a path for us through that water by any means necessary.” The use of the term
chum
raised Saavin’s brows. As an experienced shark angler, she knew what the use of such a tactic connoted. “You’ll see a distinct change in the rock, the walls, all of it. The scent is different, and the entire cave becomes more alien just as we cross the Chandeliers. There are anemones that float in water and air, and the toxicity of some animals goes off the charts, especially in relationship to their size. Sort of like jellyfish can be, you know?”

“I probably should have asked before I was down here, but what have you seen?” Saavin groused. There was a caustic hint in her tone as she braced for bad news in a world that was already filled with disastrous new wonders.

“I made some sketches based on a few exoskeletons. Bones. Even some guesses based on tracks, but there’s no guarantee of what, if anything, will be in that water.” French pulled another sheet and held it out to her. On the page were monsters; creatures of such wildly vicious improbability, she looked to him for verification.

“Is that a shrimp with a tube for a mouth, and claws? How big is it?” Her breath caught, but she composed herself. “Is that a centipede with
gills
?” she asked with mild alarm. Saavin was a born fighter, but dealing with the unknown while exposed in a submerged creek was a different level of bravery.
Or stupidity
, she reasoned.

He replaced the sheets and began their final preparation to move. “The first creature resembles a fossil I read about named
Opabinia
. It was found in Canada, along with a slew of other bizarre animals that seem to have died off a half billion years ago. The second drawing? The one with two tentacles and wings, like a smashed beetle that can sail underwater? It looks remarkably similar to something called
Anomalocaris
, and yes, they’re predators. The simple fact that we’re looking at life forms that are this ancient makes me question everything we ever thought about caves before the collapse of the world.”

Saavin mulled at that. “What if they were always here, just like the dragons?”

“I think that’s reasonable. We knew so little about the oceans, even less about the interior of the earth, and now it’s making itself known to us whether we wish it or not,” French said, grim with his facts. “I’ve found that using the cave denizens against them is often the best offense. When we get near the portage, so to speak, we’ll carry weapons at all times, and any rests will be conducted in watches. We’re going farther than I imagined possible, but we’re going to do it carefully.”

A strange look of discomfort passed over Saavin’s face. She blushed, visible even in the dim light and, when she opened her mouth to speak, French laughed, low and genuine.

He pointed back to the bubbling pool. “You’ll want to use that as your latrine. Running water is our friend, and now, we know it’s safe to hang your backside over the pool.” He bowed with a smile. “After you, m’lady.”

Saavin looked at the allegedly innocent water, and shook her head once. “I don’t think so, sport. After you.”

Sighing, he cut his eyes at her and then pointed to a spot ten yards distant. “If you don’t mind? I’d like a little privacy.”

With a chuckle, she granted his wish, hoping that the lobsters didn’t live in pairs.

Underneath: Day One

The first harbingers of the alien depths were the anemones, floating through the light currents of cave wind near the top of each chamber. They were as varied as the lichens that cast a glow across every surface, their starred tangles of arms glistening with sedately waving stalks. Larger specimens would carry a small fleet of immature followers bobbing in their wake; the plucky little fleets crossed overhead in a beautifully discordant imitation of a demolition derby. When rival fleets made contact, there were flashes of light and brief but furious battles that left glowing detritus swirling through the air, one group stronger, the other made weaker or nonexistent. Saavin watched the drama unfold for long moments, sipping from her canteen.

Pointing at one robust anemone that shined incarnadine, French said, “I’ve watched them play with their own group, but woe betide any invader who comes within range of the mother ship. Every time, it results in these brief, vicious little wars.” He drank, wiping his mouth while his eyes followed a blue specimen with a string of gold and green miniatures behind it. The small herd brushed lightly against a patch of deep green lichens spreading across an outcrop of ceiling and, wherever their outstretched arms touched, the lichen went dark. “They feed on the lichens, which break down the rocks, which presumably form some food source for the other dwellers. Of all the things I’ve sketched, these are actually the most innocuous.”

“Let that be my warning, then. Those floating death traps are ruthless, and their reproduction rate must be incredible. I’ve watched twenty of them torn apart while we’ve been standing here,” Saavin said. Her eyes never left the conflict above.

“They don’t compare to what’s ahead. Let’s hoist our ropes and assemble the spears. We’re going to need them.” French knelt and began doing just that with swift efficiency. He continued to monitor the air war above, finally giving Saavin a quick smile when she held her goggles out expectantly. “You’ll need them tomorrow. Go ahead and put them on your head to adjust the fit, but be careful while you do it. We’ll want to be absolutely sure of where our feet and hands are going.”