The Descent

For  the  first  half-mile  or  so  there  was  no  outright   challenge,  although  animals scuttled   along  the   flowstone.  With  each  step,   Ike   tried   to   piece   together   some alternative  to  what  was  already  in  motion.  Shoat's  spiderweb  seemed  unbreakable. Ike  could practically see the back of his own head through the  electronic  scope.  If  only he  were  the  prey,  he  thought.  He  could  duck  the  bullet,  or  take  it.  But  Shoat  had clearly pronounced his targets:  Ali first. Ike  continued through the fossilized city. News of human trespass  was  rippling  forward  through  the  city.  In  the  penumbra  of his  green  light,  shapes  that  normally  would  have  appeared  as  silhouettes  against  the pale glow of stone now lurked as shadows. The  candle's  neon  glow  was  devastating  his night  vision.  Then  again,  from  the  beginning  of  this  doomed  expedition,  he'd  been squandering  his  nocturnal  powers,  even  eating  human  food.  There  was  no  disguising his origins anymore.

Click   language   cricketed   in   the   gloom.   He   could   smell   hadals   crowding   the penumbra,  musky  and  smeared  with  ochre.  A  rock  thrown  from  the  shadows  struck him on the arm, not hard, just to goad him.

Winged  beasts  swept  inches  overhead.  Ike  maintained  his  stoic  gait.  Several  others circled out of reach. He felt warm spittle dribbling down his neck.

A monstrosity came  racing  from  ahead  and  blocked  the  way.  Squat,  encrusted  with fluorescent mud, he sported a penis sheath and battle  scars  and  brandished  an  ax.  He flicked his tongue like a reptile and bulged his eyes,  all  challenge.  Ike  kept  his  motions passive and the beast  let them pass.

The  plastic  slicks  and  mineral  convolutions  of  the  city  floor  began  to  angle  upward. Ike   approached   that   rise   in   the   city's   center   which   he   had   spied   through   the binoculars. The  camp grew  dense with refugees, and the  canals  were  fouled  with  their raw offal and sewage. They  lay on the bare  ground, ill and hungry.

In  his  years  of  captivity,  Ike  had  never  seen  a  fraction  of  the  traits  and  styles gathered  here.  Some  had  flippers  for  arms,  others  feet  that  were  tantamount  to hands.  There  were  heads  flattened  by  binding,  eye  sockets  genetically  emptied.  The variety  of  body  art  and  clothing  was  wild.  Some  went  naked,  some  wore  armor  or chain mail. He passed eunuchs proudly scalped  at  the  groin,  warriors  with  hair  woven with  beads  and  horns  woven  with  scalps,  and  females  bred  for  their  smallness  or

fatness.

Through  it  all,  Ike  kept  his  expression  impassive.  He  climbed  the  pathway  winding toward  the  hilltop,  and  the  mass  of  hadals  thickened.  Here  and  there,  stripped  rib cages arched above  ravaged  carcasses. In times of such want, he  knew,  human  chattel went first.

Behind  him,  the  girl  kept  pace.  His  daughter  was  his  passport.  There  were  no challenges to Ike's  advance,  and  he  continued  through  the  city.  From  the  cliffs  above, Ike  had  seen  how  the  pit  didn't  bottom  out,  but  only  paused.  And  yet  the  entire  race seemed  to  have  rooted  here.  They  showed  no  signs  of  taking  their  nomad  spirit deeper.  It  made  him  want  to  plunge  farther   into  the   hole,  to  scale  the   inverse mountain,  just  to  see  what  new  sights  there  might  be.  His  curiosity  made  him  sad, because it was unlikely he'd live to see another hour, much less another land.

A pile of ruins projected from the top of the heaped flowstone, and Ike  aimed  for  the highest  structure.  Climbing  higher,  Ike  and  the  girl  reached  Walker's  men.  The  two mercenaries  were  lashed  to  broken   columns,  not  with  rope,   but   with  their   own entrails. Seeing her enemy,  the  girl  capered.  Ike  let  her.  One  lifted  his  eyeless  face  to the  jubilation.  They  had  taken  his  lower  jaw  off,  too.  The  tongue  lay  spastic  on  his throat.

After  a  minute  they  continued.  They  crested  the  mound.  The  ruins  on  the  flat  top occupied  several  acres.  Hadals  lay  or  sat  about  on  the  amorphous  folds  of  stone,  but, strangely,  had not taken  up  residence  in  the  crowning  structure  itself.  Again,  Ike  was struck  by  their sense of waiting.

The  wall  on  one  side  of  the  main  building  had  crumbled,  and  Ike  and  the  girl clambered  up  its  rubble.  Warriors  bluffed  charges  and  hooted  threats  and  insults. None  came  closer  than  the  edges  of  his  light,  though,  and  the  effect  was  a  riptide  of greenish shadows.