The Descent

'Climb  in,'  whispered   Ike,   and-   Al  gratefully   lowered   herself   onto   the   rubber flooring.  Ike  had  kept  them  moving  almost  constantly  since  their  escape.  There  had been no time to hunt or forage, and she was weak  with hunger.

Ike  pushed  the  raft  out  from  shore,  but  did  not  begin  paddling.  'Do  you  recognize any of this?' he asked her.

She shook her head.

'The trails go in every  direction.  I've  lost  my  thread,  Ali.  I  don't  know  which  way  to go.'

'Maybe  this will help,' said Ali. She opened a thin  leather  sack  tied  around  her  waist, and drew  out Shoat's homing device.

'It was you,' Ike  said. 'You stole it.'

'Walker's  men  kept  beating  Shoat.  I  thought  they  might  kill  him.  This  seemed  like something we might need someday.'

'But the code...'

'He kept  repeating a sequence  of  numbers  in  his  delirium.  I  don't  know  if  it  was  the code or not, but I memorized it.'

Ike  squatted  on his heels beside her. 'See what happens.'

Ali  hesitated.  What  if  it  didn't  work?  She  carefully  touched  the  numbers  on  the keypad  and waited. 'Nothing's happening.'

'Try  again.'

This  time  a  red  light  flashed  for  ten  seconds.  The  tiny  display  read  ARMED.  There was  a  single  high-pitched  beep,  and  the  display  read  DEPLOYED.  After  that  the  red light died out.

'Now what?' Ali despaired.

'It's not the end of the world,' Ike  said, and threw  the box in the water.  He fished out a square  coin  he'd  found  on  the  trail.  It  was  very  old,  with  a  dragon  on  one  side  and Chinese calligraphy on the other. 'Heads, we go left. Tails, right.' He gave  it a flip.

They  climbed away  from the luminescent waters  of the sea and its  rivers  and  streams into  a  dead  zone  separating  their  worlds.  They  had  bypassed  the  region  on  their descent  via  the  Galápagos  elevator  system,  but  Ike  had  dipped  into  this  barrier  zone on other  travels.  It  was  too  deep  for  photosynthesis  to  support  a  surficial  food  chain, and  yet  too  contaminated  by  the  surface  for  the  subplanetary  biosphere  to  survive. Few  animals  passed  up  or  down  between  those  worlds,  none  by  accident.  Only  the desperate  crossed through this lifeless, tubular desert.

Ike  backed  them  away  from  the  dead  zone,  found  a  cavity  that  Ali  could  capably defend, then went hunting. At the end of a week  he returned  with long strings  of  dried meat,  and  she  did  not  ask  its  source.  With  these  provisions,  they  reentered  the  dead zone.

Their progress was hampered by  boulder chokes, hadal fetishes, and booby  traps.  It was  also  made  difficult  by  their  gain  in  altitude.  The  air  pressure  was  decreasing  as they  approached sea level. Physiologically  they  were  climbing  a  mountain,  and  simple walking  became  an  exertion.  Where  the  path  turned  vertical  and  they  had  to  scale cracks or inside tubes, Ali's lungs sometimes felt near to bursting.

She sat up gasping for air one night. After  that, Ike  employed  an  old  Himalayan  rule of  thumb:  climb  high,  sleep  low.  They  would  ascend  through  the  tunnels  to  a  high point,  then  descend  a  thousand  feet  or  so  for  the  night.  In  that  way,  neither  of  them developed  pulmonary  or  cerebral  edema.  Nevertheless,  Ali  suffered  headaches  and was visited by  occasional hallucinations.

They  had  no  way  to  track  time  or  chart  their  elevation.  She  found  their  ignorance liberating.  With  no  calendar  or  hour  to  mark,  she  was  forced  into  the  moment.  With every  turn,  they  might  see  sunlight.  But  after  a  thousand  turns  without  an  end  in sight, she relinquished that preoccupation, too.

Next  Thomas  heard  silence.  The  plainsong  and  chants  and  drumming,  the  sound  of children, the talk of women: it had stopped. All  was  still.  Everywhere  the  People  were asleep,  to  all  appearances  exhausted  by  their  vigil  and  rapture.  Their  silence  was  a relief to the ears  of a trained monk.

Quiet, he wanted to command the crucified lunatic. You'll wake  them.

Only  then  did  he  hear  the  hiss  of  aerosol,  the  fine  mist  leaking  from  Shoat's  laptop computer. Thomas worked the air into his  scarred  lungs,  then  worked  to  thrust  it  out as a shout or a whistle. His people were  never  waking, though.

He stared  in horror at  Shoat.  Taking  a  bite  of  the  meat  hanging  by  his  cheek,  Shoat stared  right back at him.

Ike's  beard  grew.  Ali's  golden  hair  fell  almost  to  her  waist.  They  were  not  really  lost, because  they  had  started  their  escape  with  little  idea  where  they  were  anyway.  Ali

found comfort in her prayers  each morning, but also in her growing closeness with  this man. She dreamed of him, even  lying in his arms.