The Lost Level (24 page)

If the Nazis had developed the Bell
(and given that I’d just been confronted with proof that—at the very least—they’d
invented a flying saucer), then it stood to reason that the reports of Xerum
525 were also true. It was therefore likely that they had used red mercury to
power this vehicle, just as they had the Bell. That would explain the radiation
symbol, the broken flask, and the remarkable similarity between the red dust I’d
seen and the descriptions of red mercury.

Which meant that there was a chance I
had just exposed myself, and Kasheena, to radiation poisoning.

“I’m sorry,” I panted as we neared
the spring. “I am so sorry, Kasheena.”

“Aaron, I do not understand what is
happening.”

“Hang on. Just let me get clean. You
stay here. Keep back. I don’t want to contaminate you.”

The spring was about knee–high on me,
and the bottom was covered with soft, thick mud. I jumped in with my clothes on
and frantically splashed myself. Then, I stripped off my boots, socks, and my
tattered jeans and let them soak, while splashing water all over me some more.
I spotted some moss growing on the bank and used it to scrub my skin
thoroughly. The mud sucked at my bare feet, making sloshing sounds as I moved.
I bent down, grabbed handfuls of it, and used that to scrub myself, as well.
Then I rinsed it off, hoping the mud would carry any remaining dust away with
it.

Looking back on that moment now, as I
sit here in this abandoned school bus, writing this memoir in a child’s spiral–bound
notebook, it’s difficult to fully remember the terror I’d felt at the time. I’d
been certain of my exposure, and for a long time after had expected to begin
suffering from the effects of radiation sickness or cancer. Of course, neither
of those things ever happened, and here I am, years later, still alive and
kicking. I’ve suffered during my time in the Lost Level. I’ve had my share of
heartaches and losses, and of injuries and illnesses. But my exposure that day
to the red mercury inside the Nazi craft left no permanent scars.

Other things on that journey did,
however, and I hesitate to write about them.

I guess I’ll see when I come to them.
That will be soon. But it depends on how much room is left in this notebook. I’ve
filled more than half the pages already, and I don’t know that I’ll have room
to recount them all. Also, I don’t know if my heart can take retelling them all
at once.

When I was satisfied I’d
decontaminated myself as much as possible, I had Kasheena do the same, out of
an abundance of caution. She stripped out of her loincloth and bathed
thoroughly. Only then did we return to Bloop, carrying our wet clothes in hand.
While Kasheena tended to him, I made sure the saucer was sealed tight. My
thoughts returned to the cowboy we’d met and his tale of the zombie virus. I’d
taken steps to make sure the infection wouldn’t spread to the Lost Level, but I
was at a loss as to how to achieve the same in the case of the radiation. The
only thing I could think of was to bury the saucer beneath the ground, but I
lacked the tools and manpower to do that, and Bloop was still my primary
concern. Still, it bothered me that someone—or something—else could wander
along and possibly expose themselves, and our environment, to such a hazard.

I don’t know how long we waited, but
eventually, Bloop regained consciousness. It was clear that he was weak and
confused, but he seemed in good spirits nevertheless. We gave him sips of water
from the gourd and checked the dressing on his wound. I considered cutting off
some more of my pants to fashion more bandages, but hesitated due to their
possible radioactive exposure. Eventually, I relented, deciding that while I
wasn’t certain about the radiation, I was positive I didn’t want infection
cutting our friend down, not after all he’d done for us and everything he’d
suffered through. When I was done, my jeans had been turned into a pair of cut–off
shorts.

Unfortunately, it appeared that
infection was already wearing Bloop down. His skin was hot to the touch, and his
fur was matted with sweat and oil. The skin around the leg was swollen and
taught like a sausage casing, and he howled with pain anytime we touched it.

“We must reach Shameal,” Kasheena
said. “Only he can help Bloop now.”

Nodding in agreement, I helped Bloop
to his feet. “Come on, buddy. Let’s see if you can walk.”

He seemed to understand my
intentions. Wincing, he rose to his full height and stood teetering while I
helped support him. When he took an experimental step forward on his injured
leg, he yelped in anguish and nearly fell over.

“We’ll have to help him,” I said.

Kasheena and I got on either side of
Bloop and put our arms around his waist. Then, he put his arms around our
shoulders. With our free hands, we each carried a sword. Bloop clutched his
with his prehensile tail, letting the weapon trail along behind us through the
grass. Then, very slowly, we stumbled forward. I was still limping slightly due
to my injury from the fight with the robot. Worse, I was distracted—still
worrying about my possible exposure to red mercury. Kasheena appeared
exhausted. Her eyelids drooped, and her expression was dour. Bloop half–hopped
between us, each step eliciting a pained breath. It was a grueling, wearying
effort, but we had no choice. If we didn’t get help, Bloop would almost
certainly die. My fear, however, given the excruciating pace of our progress,
was that we wouldn’t reach help in time.

All the while, the sun beat down upon
us, showing no mercy.

Soon, the Nazi saucer vanished from sight, its secrets and
dangers safely sealed away from anyone else who might discover it.

I hoped.

WHEN WE FIRST
SPOTTED THE
Temple of the Slug, the grasslands had given way to a large
open plain that offered little protection or concealment. Gone were the rolling
hills and the tall grass, replaced instead by a flat rocky expanse about the
length of five football fields populated with short, scrubby weeds and a few
groves of thin, stunted trees. We crouched along the edge of the field, hidden
among the last bit of high foliage. Bloop rested between us, panting. His
injuries and the exertion were taking a severe toll on him. Rather than
abating, his fever had grown worse, and he kept drifting in and out of
consciousness. Many times since leaving the flying saucer crash site, Kasheena
and I had ended up carrying him.

“He’s in bad shape,” I whispered. “He needs water. If those
fucking Anunnaki hadn’t stolen my travel mug….”

“We could not carry both Bloop and our weapons and the gourd,
Aaron. There will be water aplenty when we reach my people. And medicine.”

“How much further?”

“Do you see the forest on the other side?” She pointed. “My
village is there, not too far from the forest’s edge. We farm the far side of
this plain, for there is rich soil beneath the rocks. If you look closely, you
should be able to see our crops.”

I squinted, barely able to make out the trees on the horizon, let
alone any signs of agriculture. The distance and the heat haze made the tree
line seem like a mirage, there one minute and gone the next. My gaze returned
to the temple, which was much more prominent. The immense structure lay about
halfway across the plain, standing three stories high and shaded by several
tall, broad trees that were unlike the other trees in the field. The temple’s
architecture suggested Greek origins. It had an air of antiquity, although the
massive stones used in its construction couldn’t have been moved or put in
place by hand alone. Heavy equipment of some kind must have been used. I saw no
obvious signs of damage from my vantage point. The walls, pillars surrounding
the entrance, and the domed roof all seemed intact.

“So, this is it, then? All we have to do is make it across the
plain?”

Kasheena nodded. “After we have passed the Temple of the Slug and
are nearing the village’s crops, I am certain that some of my people will see
us approaching. Then we will have help carrying Bloop.”

“There’s not much cover out there,” I murmured. “I’d suggest
waiting for nightfall, but of course, that’s never going to happen.”

“What is this nightfall?”

“Well, it’s what people on my world call the time of day when the
sun goes down. The land gets dark. But I guess you’ve never experienced that.
Like I said, the Lost Level has no nightfall.”

“No,” Kasheena agreed. “It does not. But it does have darkness,
and we don’t want our friend to succumb to that darkness. So, let us go.”

She grabbed her sword and stood up. Sighing, I did the same.
Then, we roused Bloop and helped him to his feet. He slumped between us with a
pitiful mewl.

“It’s okay, Bloop,” I soothed. “We’re almost there.”

“Yes,” Kasheena chimed in, trying to sound positive. “Soon we
will be among my people, and you can rest on a soft bed, and Shameal will cure
you.”

When our companion responded, his voice was weak and pained. “Bloop….”

We limped along the terrain, struggling to keep Bloop upright,
and were about halfway to the temple when a shadow rose up out of the
grasslands and swooped over us, momentarily blocking out the sun. As we glanced
upward, a terrible screech echoed across the plain. Kasheena and I stopped,
gaping at the monstrous pterodactyl soaring overhead. It circled us hungrily
and cried out again. Its roar seemed to thunder across the plains like a
sweeping gale force wind.

“Shit,” I yelled. “Come on. We’ve got to make for the temple!”

Kasheena let go of Bloop, and all of his weight fell against me.
He slumped over, and I had to drop my sword and use both arms to hold him
upright.

“You go,” she shouted, bracing herself and clutching her sword. “I
will stand and fight.”

“Goddamn it, Kasheena! You can’t take that thing on armed only
with a sword. Our only choice is to hide.”

“I will not set foot in the temple, Aaron. I will not risk the
curse or ignore the warnings. I would rather take my chances here.”

With another screech, the pterodactyl dove toward us, clawed–feet
outstretched. Its massive wings made a whooshing noise as they cleaved through
the air.

“You’re coming with me,” I said. “No arguments.”

I let go of Bloop with one hand and grabbed for Kasheena, but she
slapped me aside, hard enough that I lost my balance and toppled over. Bloop
fell on top of me, knocking the air from my lungs. Gasping for breath, I pushed
him out of the way in time to see the beast looming over Kasheena. She stood
with her shoulders high and feet planted firmly apart, braced for battle. The
sun glinted off her sword blade for a second, and then the sunlight vanished,
blocked by the pterodactyl’s massive shadow. She’d been right just moments
before. There was darkness here.

And she was standing in it.

“Kasheena!” I screamed.

The creature uttered a ferocious croak and zoomed toward her. The
wind created by its passage whipped my face and ruffled Bloop’s fur. At the
last moment, Kasheena sidestepped its strike and swung her blade, hacking off
one of its great black talons at the tip of the toe. The monster shrieked in
surprise. Wheeling, it turned away, blood jetting from its wound like rain. Its
flight became erratic as it thrashed in agony.

I stumbled to my feet and glanced around for my fallen sword.
Above us, the enraged dinosaur circled around for another attack, still raining
blood.

“I will not go to the temple,” Kasheena said, keeping her eyes
firmly fixed on our attacker. “Not for a foe like this. I can beat it, if you
will not.”

“Maybe you can defeat it,” I protested, “but what about Bloop?”

Before I could say more, we heard a new sound—the diminutive cry
of a tikka–bird, almost lost beneath the furious squawking of the injured
pterodactyl. It was answered by several more similar cries. Then dozens. Within
seconds, the air was filled with the calls of tikka–birds. Then, we spotted a
small black cloud buzzing toward us across the plain.

Kasheena’s entire demeanor changed in an instant. The color
drained from her face, and her arms and legs trembled. Gone were her courage
and insistence, replaced by a deep and abiding horror—a terror of something
that overrode even her fears and concerns regarding the foreboding temple. When
she turned to me, her eyes were wide, and I saw that she was on the edge of
full–blown panic.

“We shall go to the temple, Aaron. We must hurry.”

The injured pterodactyl had noticed the piranha–birds, as well.
It spun away from us and headed for the forest, apparently trying to seek
shelter. Blood fell to the ground in large droplets as it tried to escape. The
ravenous black cloud changed course and zipped toward the fleeing beast, trying
to cut it off.

I hollered at Kasheena to take my sword, and then lifted Bloop
off the ground. I ignored the pain in my arms and back and forgot all about the
acid burn on my leg. Instead, I focused only on running as fast as I could
toward the dubious safety of the nearby structure.

As we neared it, I noticed moss and vines clinging to the temple’s
outer walls and pillars. Up close, the condition of the building was even more
remarkable. It looked old, certainly, but seemed to be in sound and sturdy
shape. We dashed up a short flight of broad stone stairs and passed through the
stone columns, where we encountered an open door. The doorway had apparently
been built by or designed for human beings, as it was of what I considered to
be normal size and height. Indeed, there was no way the pterodactyl would fit
through the opening. Without stopping, I charged through the entrance and into
a large chamber.

The interior was shrouded in darkness. I noticed dust and debris
scattered around the floor and what appeared to be several large passageways
and a massive stone stairwell near the rear, wide enough that six people could
have ascended it side–by–side. I also spied a few skeletons, none of which were
completely whole. Before I could examine them further, Kasheena called my name.
Her voice trembled.