The Descent

Not  everyone  was  so  dedicated  to  studying  his  aberrations.  An  unruly  physician named  Clifford  insisted  that  healing  came  first.  Against  the  researchers'  wishes,  he tried  flushing  Branch's  system  with  oxygen,  and  irradiated  him  with  ultraviolet  light. At   last   Branch's  metamorphosis   eased.   His  metabolism   and  strength   tapered   to human  levels.  The  calcium  outgrowths  on  his  head  atrophied.  His  senses  reverted  to normal.  He  could  see  in  sunshine.  To  be  sure,  Branch  was  still  monstrous.  There  was little they  could do about his burn scars and nightmares. But he was better.

One  morning,  eleven  months  after  arriving,  ill  with  daylight   and  the   open  air, Branch was told to pack up. He was leaving. They  would have  discharged  him,  but  the Army  didn't like freaks  with  combat  medals  bumming  around  the  streets  of  America. Posting him back to Bosnia, they  at least knew where  to find him.

Bosnia  was  changed.  Branch's  unit  was  long  gone.  Camp  Molly  was  a  memory  on  a hilltop. Down at Eagle  Base  near  Tuzla,  they  didn't  know  what  to  do  with  a  helicopter pilot who couldn't fly anymore, so they  gave  Branch  some  foot  soldiers  and  essentially told him to go find himself. Self-discovery  in camouflage: there  were  worse  fates.  With the  carte  blanche  of  an  exile,  he  headed   back   to  Zulu  Four   with  his  platoon  of happy-go-lucky  gunners.

They  were  kids who'd given up shredding or grunge or the  'hood  or  Net  surfing.  Not one  had  seen  combat.  When  word  went  out  that  Branch  was  going  armed  into  the earth, these  eight clamored to go. Action at last.

Zulu  Four  had  returned  to  as  much  normalcy  as  a  massacre  site  could.  The  gases had  cleared.  The  mass  grave  had  been  bulldozed  flat.  A  concrete  marker  with  an Islamic  crescent  and  star  marked  the  site.  You  had  to  look  hard  to  still  find  pieces  of Branch's gunship.

The  walls and gullies around the site were  cored  with  coal  mines.  Branch  picked  one at  random  and  they  followed  him  in.  In  later  histories,  their  spontaneous  exploration would  become   known  as  the   first   probe   by   a  national   military.   It   marked   the beginning of what came to be called the Descent.

They  had come as prepared  as one did in those early  days,  with  handheld  flashlights and  a  single  coil  of  rope.  Following  a  coal  miner's  footpath,  they  walked  upright  – safeties  off  –  through  neat  tunnels  trimmed  with  wood  pillars  and  roof  supports.  In the  third  hour  they  came  to  a  rupture  in  the  walls.  From  the  rock  debris  spilled  onto the floor, it seemed  someone had carved  his way out from the rock.

Following   a   hunch,   Branch   led   them   into   this   secondary   tunnel.   Beyond   all reckoning, the network  went  deeper.  No  miner  had  mined  this.  The  passage  was  raw but ancient, a natural fissure winding down. Occasionally the way  had  been  improved: narrow  sections  had  been  clawed  wider,  unstable  ceilings  had  been  buttressed  with stacked  rock. There  was  a  Roman  quality  to  some  of  the  stonework,  crude  keystones in some of the arches. In other places the drip of  mineral  water  had  created  limestone bars from top to bottom.

An hour deeper,  the GIs  began to find bones where  body parts  had  been  dragged  in. Bits  and  pieces  of  cheap  jewelry  and  cheaper  Eastern  European  wristwatches  lay  on the   trail.  The   grave   robbers   had   been   sloppy   and   hurried.   The   ghoulish   litter reminded Branch of a kid's Halloween bag with a rip in it.

They  went  on,  flashing  their  lights  at  side  galleries,  grumbling  about  the  dangers. Branch  told  them  to  go  back,  but  they  stuck  with  him.  In  deeper  tunnels  they  found still deeper  tunnels. At the bottom of those, they  found yet  more tunnels.

They  had no  idea  how  deep  it  was  before  they  quit  descending.  It  felt  like  the  belly of the whale.