The Descent

They  reached  that  top  floor  of  the  ruins  Ike  had  seen  through  the  binoculars.  The roof  had  caved  in  or  been  peeled  off,  and  the  result  was  a  high  stage  open  to  Shoat's sniperscope.  The  gallery  was  more  spacious  than  Ike  had  expected.  In  fact,  he  saw that it was some kind of library, dense with holdings.

Ike  stopped  in  the  center  of  the  room.  This  was  where  he'd  sighted  Ali  reading, though she was  gone  now.  The  floor  was  flat,  but  listing,  like  a  ship  beginning  to  sink. This  was  as  good  a  place  as  any.  It  gave  him  a  sense  of  space,   exposed   to  the equivalent  of  sky.  If  he  had  his  choice,  Ike  didn't  want  to  die  in  some  little  tube  of  a cavity.  Let  it  be  in  the  open.  Also,  as  instructed,  he  needed  to  stay  in  Shoat's  line  of sight.

While   he   waited,   Ike   was   furiously   gathering   information,   patching   together contingency  plans  and  dead-reckoning  trajectories,  trying  to  locate  the  players  and weapons  in  this  new  arena,  searching  for  exits  and  hiding  places.  It  was  a  matter  of habit, not hope.

He found a broken stele and placed the computer on top, at eye  level. He opened  the lid.  The  screen  was  lit  with  Shoat's  face,  a  miniature  Wizard  of  Oz.  'What  are  they waiting for?' Shoat's voice spoke from the monitor. The  feral  girl  backed  away  from  it. Nearby  hadals scurried into the shadows and softly hooted their alarm.

'There's  a hadal pace to things,' Ike  said.

He  glanced  around.  Scores  of  stone  tablets  were  propped  side  by  side  against  one wall,  codices  lay  open  like  long  road  maps,  and  scrolls  and  skins  painted  with  glyphs and  script  lay  in  piles.  To  enhance  her  readings,  they  had  provided  Ali  with  Helios flashlights taken  from the expedition. She was  hard  on  the  trail  of  the  mother  tongue. Another  ten  minutes  passed.  Then  Ali  was  sent  out  from  the  jumbled  interior.  She came  to  a  halt  fifteen  or  twenty  feet  away.  Tears  were  running  down  her  face.  'Ike.' She had mourned him. Now she was mourning him all over  again.  'I  thought  you  were dead.  I  prayed  for  you.  Then  I  prayed  some  more,  that  if  you  were  somehow  alive,

you'd know not to come for me.'

'I  must  have  missed  that  last  one,'  Ike  said.  'Are  you  okay?'  As  he'd  noted  through the  binoculars,  they  hadn't  started  inscribing  her  yet,  nothing  that  he  could  see.  She had  been  among  them  for  over  three  weeks  now.  By  this  time  they  had  usually knocked out the women captives' front teeth  and begun other initiations. The  fact  that Ali bore no ownership marks  gave  him hope. Maybe  a bargain was still possible.

'But I kept  hearing Walker's soldiers. Are  they  dead?'

'Don't mind them. What about you?'

'They've  been  good  to  me,  considering.  Until  you  showed  up,  I  was  thinking  there might be a place for me here.'

'Don't say  that,' Ike  snapped.

Their seduction of her had begun. No great  mystery  there.  It  was  the  seduction  of  a storybook  land,  the  seduction  of  becoming  an  expatriate.  You  fell  for  a  place  like darkest  Africa  or  Paris  or  Kathmandu,  and  soon  you  had  no  nation  of  your  own,  and you  were  simply  a  citizen  of  time.  He'd  learned  that  down  here.  Among  the  human captives  there  were  always  slaves,  the  walking  dead.  And  then  there  were  the  rare few like him – or Isaac – who had lost their souls to this place.

'But I'm so near to the word. The  first word. I can feel it. It's  here, Ike.'

Their  lives  were  on  the  line.  Shoat's  storm  was  about  to  rage,  and  she  was  talking about  primal  language?   The   word   was   her   seduction.  She  was   his.   'Out   of   the question,' he said.

'Hi, Ali,' Shoat said through the computer. 'You've  been a naughty girl.'

'Shoat?' said Ali, staring at the screen.

'Stay  calm,' Ike  said.

'What are you doing?'

'Don't blame him,' Shoat's image said. 'He's just the pizza delivery  boy.'

'Ike,  please,'  she  whispered.  'What  is  he  up  to?  Whatever  you're  doing,  I've  been given assurances. Let  me talk to them. You and I –'

'Assurances? You're  still treating them like noble savages.'

'I can help save  them from this.'

'Save  them?  Look around.'

'I  have  a  gift.'  Ali  gestured  at  the  scrolls  and  glyphs  and  codices.  'The  treasure  is here, the secrets  of their past, their racial memory,  it's all here.'

'They're  illiterate. They're  inbred. Starving.'