"So this is their myth surrounding the creation of their universe?” Sanji asked.
"That's what I think, yes,” Veronica replied, showing little emotion in the discovery. None of it thrilled her the way it once had. She felt like a machine, perfunctionatorily analyzing data like some assembly-line worker screwing a nut on a bolt a thousand times a day.
"What do you mean by ‘the creation of their universe?'” Connell asked.
"Every human society has a primitive myth surrounding the creation of mankind,” she said. “Christians, for example, have Adam and Eve and the Garden of Eden. It's logical that as intelligent creatures, they've invented religions to explain away the mysteries of life, such as the creation of the world."
Connell moved a few feet down the tunnel, staring at another panel. “So if this dumbbell thing is their Garden of Eden, what do you suppose this means?"
Veronica looked at the panel in question. In it, a ring of rocktopi surrounded a large picture of the dumbbell. They looked prone, perhaps dead, deflated like the ones they'd gunned down earlier on the cliff. The message looked rather obvious.
"I think their Garden of Eden may be off limits,” Veronica said. “To them it may be evil; cursed, perhaps."
"Why would their birthplace be cursed?” Sanji asked.
"Perhaps the Dense Mass cavern is holy ground they're not supposed to tread on,” Veronica said. “I don't know yet."
Connell scanned the carvings. Higher up, almost to the ceiling, he saw something that didn't seem to fit with the rest of the rocktopi religion. “Veronica,” Connell said. “Is that a man, wearing what I think he's wearing?"
Veronica looked up, her light joining Connell's on the wall. “That's a man wearing an old-fashioned mining lamp,” she said. “The oil kind, like wearing a candle on your head."
Connell scanned the area — the mining-helmet man was the start of a sequence. The pictures that followed showed yet another massacre, a massacre of men and horses.
"Oh my god,” Veronica said quietly. “The mass grave on the plateau."
"Jessup,” Connell said. “They carved a story about the Jessup mine."
"But that can't be part of a religion,” Veronica said. “That doesn't make sense, unless this isn't a religion, but a historical document. I think they—” Her words trailed off as a faint clicking noise filtered to her ears. She looked to her left, back the way they had come — and her breath froze as still as the stone walls. A silverbug clung to the ceiling, watching them like a spider eyeing wayward prey.
She suddenly realized that they were well outside the jammer's range. Once free of the static signals, the silverbugs quickly returned to their original behavior.
"Let's move,” Connell said.
Veronica needed no more coaxing. Without another word, she and Sanji trotted nervously down the tunnel. Connell brought up the rear, constantly throwing glances behind him.
Angus and Randy moved forward with a hint of caution, always keeping an eye out for wandering rocktopi. They frequently ran across silverbugs that moved like wasps dying a slow insecticide death. The scrambler jammed the silverbug signals, sending them stumbling into walls and over each other.
The two men stopped simultaneously, not needing to talk. They both peered down the tunnel, concentrating on a tiny spot of faraway light. The spot didn't look like much, but to them it was a beacon, the entrance to the massive cavern surrounding the Dense Mass. They'd be there in less than five minutes.
Angus grew anxious at the others’ tardiness. He stooped to plant a tiny motion sensor as Randy pulled the Marco/Polo device from his pack.
"How are they coming?” Angus asked, keeping a wary eye on a silverbug that stumbled awkwardly toward him. Randy punched a few buttons to adjust the screen.
"They're still lagging behind,” Randy said, a frown of deep worry scoring his face. “Connell, Veronica, and Sanji are about ten minutes back."
Angus grabbed the staggering silverbug by the leg and casually tossed it down the hall like so much rubbish. “Those fucking gimps are slowing us down."
"Darnit, Angus,” Randy said. “They're injured, and pretty bad at that."
Angus looked back up the tunnel, hoping to catch a glimpse of the others. “Cry me a river, Randy. If they don't speed up, we may have to bust out on our own."
"You've got to be kidding!"
"No, I'm not. We can't wait for them and they know the way out. I say we get them to the Dense Mass, show them the Linus Highway and then boogie. They're slowing us down."
Randy squared his shoulders and seemed to puff up with sudden determination. It was an expression that Angus had never seen in his friend, and he immediately disliked it.
"You're not going anywhere,” Randy said. “And if you do, it will be without the map equipment. We're getting them all out of here safely."
Anger and disappointment swelled in Angus's heart. Not Randy. Everyone else, sure, but not him. Didn't he understand that the others didn't matter? Didn't he understand they were just regular, everyday people, that six billion others just like them wandered the Earth? He and Randy were different, they were geniuses.
"What the fuck are you talking about, Randy? We're not going to throw our lives away for the likes of them. You're coming with me. I'm not going to let you die down here with the gimps."
"You don't have any say in the matter,” Randy said. “They are people, and we're going to get them out."
"Fine, then what about we get out and get help? We can move so much faster than the others."
Randy slowly shook his head. “No way, Angus. I think Connell is right about you. He doesn't trust you to go ahead for help, and now neither do I. I think you only care about yourself, and would forget about anyone else as soon as you hit any danger… including me."
Angus pushed back his fury. Randy was a traitor, pure and simple. And as such, he deserved not a shred of loyalty. Randy stormed off, moving ahead down the tunnel.
Angus followed. They moved to within fifty yards of the entrance to the Dense Mass cavern. Randy looked down a side tunnel that branched off to his right, then stopped so abruptly that Angus nearly stumbled into his back.
"What is it?” Angus asked. “What's the matter?"
Randy said nothing, only pointed down the right-hand tunnel, his face grave with concern and more than a little bit of fear. Angus looked, and felt that same dread melt into him like a hot needle into wax.
Chapter Thirty-five
Kayla faced a mild dilemma. The little prick's tracks veered off on a left-hand branch that leveled out from her current position. The Linus Highway, on the other hand, continued unerringly downward toward the Dense Mass.
She wanted to kill him, after all, so she should follow his tracks. The tracks, however, might be old. In the tunnels there was no wind, no weather, nothing to erode the footprints and indicate their age. They were probably days old, made shortly after the helicopter landed a few miles from camp and the Little Fucking Prick and his Butt-Buddy hiked back to the mountain under the cover of night.
She stared at the map, beginning to appreciate the expanse of the complex. Thousands of branches. And where would she find the monsters? Angus and Randy might be anywhere. What if they weren't even in the caves at all anymore? She could follow their tracks for days and never lay eyes on them.
The Linus Highway, on the other hand, led straight to the Dense Mass — which was the goal of EarthCore, the goal of Angus and the goal of Connell Kirkland. Out of the thousands of choices that faced her, catching them at the Dense Mass held the best odds for success.