Dark Muse (30 page)

Muddy hoped it would hold their weight. He
had no idea how long those houses below had been there or how much
damage the heat had inflicted on the wood. He really hoped termites
didn’t live in caves. When he gazed up at the shining eye and saw
it was still at least a hundred or so feet away, he sighed but knew
they could pull off his plan.

The good thing? The rocks appeared to become
smaller as they climbed. There were fewer boulders, more
stepping-size stones.

The bad? Another river had picked up steam.
The magma river. It was about fifty feet away now and as he
watched, he gauged it to be about thirty seconds away from them by
the way it snaked downwards, mostly around the rocks, not
over
them. He hoped the planks would hold long enough for
them to build a new step.

“Muddy!” Otis yelled. “Are you that much of a
Led Zeppelin dork?”

He smiled at his little friend. “Yes, yes, I
am.”

“I thought these were stairs, but I couldn’t
bring myself to say it.”

It truly was a stairway, but to where, Muddy
didn’t know.

“Let’s move!”

They climbed on top of the first one and it
held two planks without any problem. Each stood on them before
pulling up to the next without incident. Corey and Muddy took turns
helping to lay down the subsequent planks.

“Hey,” Muddy called to Lyra and Poe. “Can you
grab the one we just left?”

“Remove the stair?” They looked at each
other. “Why?”

He simply pointed upward. “It’s a long way to
the top.”

Otis sang the rest of the line. “Wrong song,
but it nice try.”

“And I do want to rock and roll some zombie
butt,” Poe said, reaching behind her. Without removing each one
they used, they would have needed well over a hundred planks, far
more than they could carry. They built it, stair by stair, but the
zombies climbed steadily behind them, the lava creeping down from
above.

It was working, but one misstep and they’d be
burned to a crisp—or eaten—or both.

* * * *

“Build!” Muddy felt like a slave driver,
maybe like the ones these zombies had once, but at this point, he
didn’t care. It was fight or die. He stepped up three sturdy
stairs, each lodged or balanced just enough. Corey went first to
help pull up the others. Muddy brought up the rear and helped Lyra
pick up the wood. His fingers began to heat up big time underneath
the planks as the rocks all around began to steam.

“No more!”

Who was that? Muddy looked up to see Luke
dancing on a stair, struggling to get away from the embrace of Poe
and Otis. “No more fire!”

His sister rushed to him and helped him up
the last stair. “Sh-h-h… There won’t be any more fire. I promise.
You’ll be okay.”

Muddy doubted she truly believed that, but
she had little choice. Family came first.

Poe grabbed hold of Luke and whispered in his
ear. Maybe it was piece of a song. It caused his eyes to focus
through the blisters surrounding them. He nodded to her and leaned
down to grab a board.

Man, Muddy thought, that girl had powers over
every guy. He smiled, wondering if he’d ever get a
real
kiss
from her. He picked up the last two stairs, both smoking. Suddenly,
a gray-white hand with nothing but leathery flesh on it clasped
bony fingers onto his. A strong one. He didn’t scream. He couldn’t
scare the others
.
“Hurry,” was all he managed to say in a
hoarse whisper. Another hand reached over the top and pulled at his
foot. A harsh stench invaded his nostrils. Now he felt the need to
let loose. “Corey!”

More hands yanked at him, pulling him off
balance. He looked down, fifty feet or more over the steaming rocks
to the shallow lake below. The writhing bodies flowed much deeper.
If he fell beneath their surface, their current would do much more
than drown him.

“Corey!”

More hands grabbed at him, this time from
above. He howled again.

“Gotcha, big guy,” said the sax man. “We got
ya.”

Muddy pulled loose from the mottled hands
that tried to pull him down and skittered up to the next stair,
right before a board swung before his eyes and with a sickening
thump, hit the zombie in the lead. It toppled backward, sinking
into the sea of gray.

Dominoes? Muddy hoped they would all fall
backwards, but it only knocked over a trio of them. Still, it was
enough for him and Corey to catch up to the others.

“Faster,” someone cried. The clank of the
boards hitting together nearly drowned out the howling from
below.

A stair was lowered and they climbed two more
steps. Corey brought up the rear, ready to swing again. He pulled
up two more planks and passed them on. Muddy held one in his hand
as it crumbled. Underneath, it was totally black. Burned. Another
body blocked his view. It held a solid slab of wood. Reddened hands
swung at the horde.

Luke?

Muddy wished Poe could sing another song for
him. One that would heal
her
so she’d never hurt again. If
she could sing just a few notes for the twin, to rescue him from
the experience of whatever he’d encountered, maybe she could help
herself. If not, he’d still be there for her.

The lava stream had turned their way and sped
up. There were only about ten more steps and they’d reach the eye.
A ledge jutted out from the opening and sloped down. Underneath,
magma flowed from a trio of holes.

How could they pass over those without
getting burned?

“Muddy!” Poe called to him. The lava stream
had cut them off from the next stair by a good three feet. Steam
rose up and blinded him.

Could they jump it? Would the steam burn
them too much?

He counted the boards the group had in their
possession. Most were still in decent shape.

“Muddy!” Corey yelled from two stairs below.
Multiple hands had him in their grasp.

Lyra and Poe jumped down each with a board in
their hands and began swinging away. One by one, the zombie things
fell away. It took a few hits before they relinquished their hold.
Muddy noticed that some looked past the group and into the eye.
Could they be desperate to escape, too? Or did they just want the
lot of them to join their legion?

The girls swung until Corey was free enough
to join the batting practice. As hard as they swung, the more they
knocked off the tower of bodies, the more the zombies came, as
steady as the lava. Fear skittered along Muddy’s arms and down his
back. Had it come to this, to escape drowning—twice—only to die
this way? He couldn’t bear the thought that his friends could die
and yet it seemed they might all perish from fire or gnashing
teeth.

From above, Otis called. “Boss, you
ready?”

What? Boss?
“Otis?” Confusion washed
over him. “What are you talking about? We’re dying here.”

“Not yet, bud!” The slam of wood against rock
with the hiss of steam called out to his ears. “Now get your bums
up here and fast! Hurry!”

Corey, Lyra, and Muddy turned tail and moved
fast, climbing the remaining stairs to where Otis stood,
smiling.

He had laid each plank across the gap, two
layers deep. They just barely covered the flow of liquid rock.
Solid, but the fire riding the magma was already touching them.

“Move. This wood will be ash in about a
minute.”

Thank you
, Muddy mouthed. His friend
just nodded.

Lyra went first to help Luke across, followed
by Poe and Otis. Muddy and Corey brought up the rear as fingers
nipped at their heels.

One zombie had Corey’s shoe and was opening
its mouth to clamp its jaw on his ankle when the board snapped in
half. The thing tumbled into the stream and melted in seconds.

“My shoe!” Corey just sat there, looking at
his sock. “It ate my shoe!”

Shock? He punched his friend in the arm then
pulled at him. “I’ll buy you a fresh new pair when we get home,
maybe even one that matches this time. Now, move!” The big guy
slipped what remained of the shoe back on his foot and continued
upwards.

They caught up to the others and saw that the
eye stood only a body’s length above them. The lava waterfall aimed
at them was an illusion. It burst from the three holes, all right,
but once it had cleared the gap, a path showed itself to be safe
for those who dared to come this far.

We made it!
, Muddy screamed inside.
But the zombies pushed onwards. They knocked each other into the
gap and stood on top of their own fellow zombies to get across.

“Lift!” Corey didn’t need a second direction.
All of them jumped to reach the upper edge of the ledge and began
pulling themselves up onto it. The girls went first, again, but Poe
flashed a stake of wood, ready to protect and stab anything that
might be up there waiting. Lyra pulled Luke and Otis onto the
ledge.

Finally, Muddy and Corey jumped, and even
though fire burned in the guitarist’s biceps, he managed to pull
himself up. He’d made it. Both of them did. They rolled onto the
ledge proper and away from the probing hands. Oddly, many of the
creatures had begun backing down. Maybe they simply realized they
couldn’t reach their prey or escape.

“Are we done?” Poe finally broke down. “This
is worse than being at home,” she cried. “It never ends.”

Muddy took her in his own shaking arms, and
held her. “No, it’s not that bad. We’re all here. We’ve made it.
Look.”

They peered into the eye and saw a sheer
glass plate with a pictograph of the gauntlet they’d just passed
etched into it in a massive circle. Had they gone in a circle? No
way, it depicted ups-and-downs and definitely the crazed
subterranean floors where they began.

“Look,” Corey said. He moved his hand over
the map of places they’d passed, with the songs from Aerosmith,
Rolling Stones, Black Sabbath, Springsteen, Rush, and now Zeppelin.
The ocean of the sirens with the Deep Purple song was also shown.
All of these songs they knew, ones they played, both live and on
Guitar Hero.

So this was where they were born? Was this
were the bands found the inspiration?

What in the world? Was this planned? How? Did
the slaves know this would be the way in? Out? How did these songs
happen to be picked; were they the most dangerous ones the workers
could find?

“Wow,” Otis mused. “Rock radio will never
sound the same to me again.”

Poe backed away. “Guys, I don’t think I can
sing any of these after today.”

“Now, what?” Lyra looked into the picture and
although she’d likely met the writers of the tunes inscribed on the
wall, she still didn’t know what was coming next.

Suddenly, Muddy realized something. Someone
or something had engineered this nightmare, knowing they’d keep
going in order to save his brother. His mind went cold as he backed
up.

“What are you doing?” He didn’t even process
who had said it. He barely heard the words.

He knew. They knew. They always knew. But,
why? With a deep breath, he steeled himself and launched forward at
full throttle.

He dove straight through the map, hands and
head first, sounding the final note of the blues scale of the
deadly path they chose. The sheer surface exploded in near silence
as he broke it into a myriad of pieces. That note reverberated
throughout him, sending a shockwave through his bones that allowed
a flow of energy back into him. He tumbled down a slight slope, or
embankment, and rolled to a halt, feeling like he could take down
anything in this world.

He heard his name called and someone else
telling the others to come on, that it was safe—in
his
voice.

But his mouth already hung open. In
silence.

Who spoke in his voice? He turned to warn the
others, but knew they’d already heard his call. He barely heard the
others sliding down to meet him. It didn’t matter much now. Nothing
really did. Only finishing this job did; right here, right now, and
not stopping until he led everyone out alive.

“We’ve been waiting,” they said.

“It was a little tiring, watching you fight
through all those trials, but you made it.”

“Now you can play your last song for us.”

He tried to say something, but fear smothered
his voice.

“Death is by far the prettiest song we’ve
ever heard,” came one discordant voice.

“Always was,” sounded another in
dissonance.

“Always will be,” finished the third.

“Welcome to the tower of the Dark Muse.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

“Zack?”

“Hello, brother.” But it wasn’t his voice.
Not quite.

“Muddy,” Poe said, “what’s going on?” She and
the others gathered next to him after emerging from the slide.

As his knees buckled, he found a steadier
voice. “I’m not sure, but I think we have one more song to play. A
good one, I hope.”

The three voices sounded as one. “As your
last should be.”

So that’s what they look like. No wonder
they’re called the Tritons.

Muddy nearly wet himself. Each of them stood
about eight feet tall. Three arms sprung from their middle
section—their abdomens? They stood on three legs, three long legs
which had several joints, just like a spider. But that wasn’t what
frightened him the most. It was their heads.

A triangular shaped skull topped each one,
dwarfing their bodies, definitely not in proper proportion. They
appeared almost hammerhead-like. Eyes, they had a few. How many,
Muddy couldn’t tell as they were segmented, almost like that of a
fly or spider. Yet those creatures didn’t have the human focus that
these things did. Each bore multiple stares into Muddy and the
others. An evilness he had never felt before burned into his mind,
emanating from the orbs on those massive heads.

The band’s saving grace was the lack of
crushing jaws or razor teeth they had faced earlier in their
mission. Each open mouth sported a toothless opening, resembling
the beak of a hawk rather than a shark.