“It continues on. We will travel from here now.” Han Biao sat and unlaced his boots, pulling one off and upending it.
Liu quickly waded across, avoiding the hole that Han Biao had stepped into. In a moment he came up the bank, and sat next to his friend.
“We wait for them.” Liu switched off his light.
Han Biao nodded, and sat shivering from the cold, and then held himself in check, not wanting Captain Yang to see him show any discomfort.
In another moment, they could see the lights of the group approaching. He reached up to scratch at a tingling itch at one of the larger abrasions on his chest.
Good, he thought — first sign of healing.
Minutes before, minuscule fragments of Han Biao’s clothing, skin, and blood had been washed ahead of him down the river, and within an environment that was near devoid of life, and food, every scrap was eagerly sought and pursued. From beneath the mud, from out of cracks in the submerged cave wall and floor, tiny thread-like heads pushed out to sample the water, waving back and forth momentarily, tracking its source, before launching themselves, sperm like, their tiny tails flicking madly towards Han Biao. Above the water, the man felt nothing, as his body, and every scrape, cut, and graze on it, became a source of great interest to the worms.
“That’s water… running water.” Casey turned back to Aimee, Soong, and the soldiers. “And there’s more humidity.”
“Yes, I can smell it; we must be close,” Aimee said. She was the only one allowed to use a flashlight, and she kept it pointed at the ground. The HAWCs had switched to night-scopes, and the McMurdo team walked in the dark, following Aimee’s beam. The tunnels were narrowing now, and they only permitted single file movement. Around the group, the darkness was becoming a living thing, and Aimee could feel the weight of the stone around her as if it lay heavily on her shoulders.
The stocky female HAWC led them on, followed by Soong and Aimee, then Parcellis, Hagel, Blake, Dawkins, and Jennifer Hartigan. Bringing up the rear, were the hulking forms of Ben Jackson and Hank Rinofsky. Both Jackson and Rhino were having a difficult time with the caves narrowing and the pace was slowing with both having to move side-on to navigate. Aimee knew that if the space shrunk any more, then Rinofsky and Jackson would either have to find another way, or they’d all have to double back.
From time to time, Aimee would look over her shoulder. It was an eerie sensation, because although the team was strung out with several feet between each of them, all she saw was the intermittent red dots over the eyes of the HAWCs. She knew they saw her, but unless she lifted the flashlight to them, they were invisible.
We’re ghosts in the land of the dead, she thought glumly, and shook her head. What am I doing here? She swallowed down a lump in her throat. I’m sorry, Joshua, I made a terrible mistake.
The image of his beautiful face floated in the darkness, and she drew comfort from it. She saw him laughing, playing, eating, even arguing — all the small moments of their life together. She had raised him from nothing, and all by herself. She was his everything, and he was hers. She sniffed, seeing his tiny face sleeping, the features so relaxed, so innocent, and so… helpless. What the hell was I thinking? she thought miserably, and dragged a forearm across her eyes, wiping away tears, but also grinding dust into them, making them worse.
She heard her son’s voice then: “You need to bring him home.”
I’ll try, she whispered, and, with her head down, she walked on, step after step.
From time to time, the group passed over fissures in the stone — sometimes they needed to step across them in the floor, and other times the wall beside them was torn, as if titanic hands had ripped the stone asunder.
Casey held up a fist, causing Aimee to nearly stumble into Soong. The female HAWC stood frozen for many seconds. Aimee crept up closer, collapsing Soong into the HAWC.
“What is it?”
“Listen,” Casey whispered.
Aimee concentrated, and then held her breath. There was a soft rapid dripping, somewhere off in the darkness. Other than that there was nothing, there wasn’t even breathing, as everyone seemed to be holding their breath.
“I think…”
Casey’s fist was still up, but she flicked a finger to quiet Aimee.
Aimee concentrated again, and then she heard it, or rather, stopped hearing it.
“The dripping… it’s stopped.”
“Yeah,” Casey said softly. “It’s been doing that as if it’s shutting off and on.” She half turned. “Or something is getting in and out of water. Any ideas?”
Aimee felt a coiling in her stomach, but pushed it down and shook her head. “Could be a lot of things. But at this depth, the water seepage should be consistent.”
“Seasonality, variable sinking points, chemical blockages,” Soong said, looking at each woman. “But this happens over longer extended periods — months and years, not minutes.”
Casey’s eyes slid from Soong back to Aimee. “Or something or someone passing underneath the flow?” She waited for a response.
Aimee just shrugged, not wanting to advance any theories that would panic anyone… yet.
Casey pulled her M18X rifle from over her shoulder, and waved them on. “Eyes on, people. Don’t want to run into our PLA friends.” She turned to raise an eyebrow at Aimee. “Or anything else.”
CHAPTER 32
“Do you know what one of my favorite books was, when I was a kid?” Cate Canning stood with hands on hips, smiling dreamily. “At the Earth’s Core.” She turned slowly, sighing. Alex ignored her.
“It was written by Edgar Rice Burroughs, just over one hundred years ago. It’s about a hidden world within our world.”
“Hm-hmm.” Alex stopped to use his scanner once again.
“Do you know how the scientists first got there?” She knew he probably wouldn’t know, so continued. “They used a machine they called the ‘Iron Mole’ to drill down through the crust. Guess from where?” She waited this time.
“I’m guessing, the South Pole,” Alex said without looking up.
“Exactly. Is this not fiction becoming true?”
“I preferred his Tarzan series myself.” Alex half smiled, but motioned to the deeper forest. “C’mon, this way.”
They threaded their way through the hairy trunks of the Prototaxites and pulpy looking plants pushing back at them at waist level. But as they moved further from the shoreline, the flora changed, becoming more dense and, if possible, even stranger.
Cate pointed as she walked, giving Alex a running commentary. “Glossopteris, or some sort of gymnosperm, anyway. Hmm, but the leaves are all wrong.” She paused to look up at the twilight ceiling. “You know, it’s like a Valdivian rainforest, but it survives with little light. All these plants are relics from the Pangaean supercontinent. They share common characteristics from relic forests, but have adapted, just like ferns and mosses, to a permanent low-light environment.”
She strode across a large pile of what looked like dried sphagnum moss. “Hundreds of millions of years ago, ferns learned how to share genetic material to allow them to survive in extremely low-light environments. I think the plants here have done the same. They’re now getting most of their nutrients from the soil.”
“Not just from the soil.” Alex pointed to a weird looking tree trunk that had what appeared to be a huge spiny bug wrapped tight in sticky tendrils. “Seems they’re quite happy to eat a bit of meat now and then.”