The Lost Level (5 page)

My stomach grumbled. I was still tired and hungry, but I felt a
little better about my situation now that I was armed with something more than
a walking stick. Once I’d found food and shelter, and had a chance to rest, I
intended to start looking for a way back home. I considered retracing my steps
and turning to the jungle to find the corpse of the deer, but the thought of
trying to free the dead animal from the razor–grass seemed foolish. I’d have
better luck hunting something I didn’t have to fight another predator
for—especially if that predator was a plant that could slice me to ribbons. A
.45 is a formidable handgun, capable of stopping almost any attacker—from an
armed intruder to a bear in the wild—but it wouldn’t do much against blades of
grass. I’d be better armed with a weed whacker or a lawnmower.

After tying the plastic bag’s handles around one of my belt
loops, I stuck the .45 in my waistband. The metal felt cool against the small
of my sweaty back. I’d made sure no rounds were chambered and wasn’t too
worried that I’d accidentally shoot myself while climbing down. I clambered out
of the Jeep and out onto the rocks, scaling the cliff face like a spider. I
descended at a different point from my initial climb, and in doing so, I
noticed something I hadn’t seen before. On the other side of the peak lay a
long, shadowed crevice. A narrow, winding trail snaked along the bottom of it,
providing less treacherous footing and more importantly, an escape from the
ever present sun.

I eased around the cliff face, working my fingers into the
cracks, and lowered myself onto a jumble of boulders just above the crevice. I
glanced at the jungle and forest far below, admiring once again the strange,
crazy–quilt geography of this strange dimension. There was no sign of the smoke
I had spotted earlier. Instead, it had been replaced with a shimmering heat
haze that seemed to blur everything. The trees looked so small from this
height. I was reminded of the tiny replicas that had come with the model train
set my father had set up in the basement for my siblings and me when we were
kids. At that moment, I felt older than I was, and the distance between where I
now was and my family still were seemed like an unimaginable gulf.

I clambered down from the boulders and, with some relief, stood
on solid ground again. I was about to enter the crevice when I startled a bird
that had been nesting between the rocks. It resembled a chicken, but it was
smaller, and its feathers were light grey. It moved faster than any hen or
rooster I’d ever seen. The bird squawked with fright as it flew away. Startled,
I steadied myself against a boulder while my pulse resumed its normal pace. I
found the nest after a quick search, but there were no eggs in the tangle of
sticks and grass. My stomach rumbled again.

I pulled the binoculars out of the bag and tried to track the
bird. I scanned from the left to the right, but couldn’t find it in my field of
vision. I was just about to give up when I caught sight of something glinting
in the sun, far, far away at the base of the hills. I focused the binoculars,
zooming in on the location, and what I saw made my breath catch in my throat.

Five figures marched toward the jungle. Each of them was similar
to a man, having two arms, two legs, and a head, but that was where the
likeness stopped. Instead of being human, they were reptilian in nature. Their
greenish–grey skin was covered with scales, and they had serpent’s heads,
complete with fangs and flickering tongues. They had three fingers and a thumb
on each hand and stood an average of seven feet tall. Their weight and shape
varied, but overall they seemed to be slender and wiry. They carried a variety
of weapons—everything from crude swords and crossbows to rifles of a sort like
I’d never seen. They also wore a strange assortment of armor and gear. One was
dressed in what appeared to be police riot armor, complete with a mirrored–visor
helmet that didn’t quite fit over its snake–like head. A second wore some type
of chainmail garb. A third was dressed in what looked like the very old and
rusted armor of a Roman centurion. The other two wore leather armor with
strange patchwork. I squinted, blinking the sweat from my eyes, and tried to
focus the binoculars better. Gasping, I felt my gorge rise. The leather was
human skin. The patchwork was faces and tattoos and in one case some type of
surgery scar.

I’d felt an instant sense of loathing upon first spying the
serpent men, for as I mentioned before, I’ve always had an unnatural and deep–seated
hatred of snakes. That emotion turned to anger and revulsion upon seeing the
flayed human skin that they’d so callously draped themselves in. My first
impulse was to pull out the .45 and open fire, but I resisted. They were too
far away, and the weapon was essentially useless at that range. The old adage
came to mind—a handgun is only useful for defense until you can make it back to
the rifle you should have been carrying with you in the first place. Instead of
shooting them, I continued to watch, unable to look away no matter how much I
wanted to. They moved in tandem and seemed to be communicating with one
another, although no visible speech or hand movements were apparent.

Suddenly, the leader stopped. Behind him, the others did the
same. As one, they slowly turned in my direction, staring directly up at me. I
knew that I was too far away to be seen, hidden as I was behind the rocks, but
I still ducked down in fright. Had it just been coincidence, or had they really
known I was there, and if so, how? My scent? That seemed unlikely, given the
distance between us. Telepathy, perhaps? Some sort of sixth sense? Or maybe it
was just bad luck. Maybe they weren’t looking at me, or perhaps they had heard
the bird I’d spooked. I crouched there with my back against the stones until my
breathing and heart rate had returned to normal. Then, I carefully raised the
binoculars and peeked over the edge again. The snake men were farther away now,
moving into the jungle. Sighing with relief, I wiped the sweat from my brow and
returned my attention to the shadowed crevice.

Dirt and gravel crunched beneath my boots. I went slow, watching
for scorpions, spiders, or anything else that might be lurking among the
cracks. I came across an animal skeleton. The bones were yellowed and moldy and
scattered so badly that it was impossible for me to identify what they had
belonged to. I also spotted some rabbit tracks in the dirt. How was it that something
so familiar—something like a rabbit, or a Jeep, or the quarter I had
found—existed simultaneously with snake men, and razor–grass, and three–eyed
tigers with wooly mammoth tusks?

My thoughts returned to the serpent men. In my occult studies, I’d
read of a supposed race of ancient amphibians known as the Dark Ones, who were
said to have resided on Earth at one time, and indeed, as some speculated,
still lived in cities beneath the ocean, far from the prying eyes of mankind.
They were a highly intelligent race, able to fashion tools and weaponry and
harness beasts of burden and possessed arcane knowledge. But by all accounts,
the Dark Ones were said to look more like Gila monsters or Komodo dragons. The
Reptilians I’d witnessed earlier were decidedly snake–like. Could they have
been a distant cousin of the Dark Ones? An evolutionary offshoot, perhaps? Or
were they something entirely different? Perhaps even alien?

As I continued my exploration, the winding crevice grew narrower,
and the rock walls loomed far overhead. Moss and lichen covered the stones in a
blanket of green, brown, grey, and hues unlike any I’d seen before—orange and
red and yellow. I avoided touching any of them. It was cooler here in the
shade, and for that I was grateful. The sun had me perplexed at this point. I
was certain that it hadn’t moved in the whole time I’d been on this level, and
because of that, I had absolutely no sense of direction or time. All I knew was
that I was exhausted from my ordeal, and famished, and needed to rest soon
before I collapsed. So, when the crevice eventually ended at the mouth of a
narrow cavern, I felt a mix of gratitude and apprehension.

I approached the opening with caution. It was a narrow sliver
about eight feet high and four feet wide, and it sloped steeply down into the
hill. I couldn’t see very far into the darkness, but a cool breeze drifted out
of the cave, and the air smelled okay. Sticks, rocks, dead leaves, and other
detritus lined the floor. I stood there listening, but heard nothing inside
save the faint sound of dripping water.

Slowly, I stepped through the opening and followed the slope
downward. While the cavern mouth had been narrow, it opened up considerably
once I was inside. The walls stretched a good fifteen feet across, and the corners
and space ahead of me were shrouded in darkness. The air grew noticeably cold
after only a few feet inside. The floor was damp and muddy in some places, and
I had to choose my steps carefully to avoid slipping. The cave leveled off
after about forty feet, and I was able to stand without sliding. I waited for a
bit, letting my eyes adjust to the gloom, but even then, I couldn’t see very
far. I wished I had the means to start a fire, but I had no matches or a
lighter, no flint or steel, and had never been able to master the friction
technique even though I’d spent several camping sessions attempting it by
rubbing sticks together when I was a kid. I considered returning to the Jeep
and trying the battery again. If I could get a spark off of the terminals, I
might be able to catch the spark in something combustible, and then fashion a
torch and carry it back here. But after considering the items I had in
inventory, I didn’t think that would be possible, especially given the fact
that I doubted the battery had a spark left in it. And I wasn’t sure I’d be
able to make the climb while clutching a flaming torch in one hand.

When I decided my vision wasn’t going to adjust any more than it
already had, I explored the cave. Arms outstretched, I slowly walked into the
shadows on one side and felt my way around. There was a sheer drop off near the
back, nearly hidden in the darkness, which made my asshole pucker and my
testicles tighten and shrink as I stood at the edge. Had I not waited until my
eyes adjusted before I’d gone exploring, I would have certainly fallen in it. I
had no way of telling how wide or deep the chasm was, but it
felt
immense. Draughts of cold, dank air drifted up from it, and the sound of
dripping water was more prominent. I knelt, selected a stone, and dropped it
into the darkness. Although I crouched there listening for a very long time, I
did not hear it strike anything. I tossed another stone beyond the hole, trying
to determine how far across it stretched. Again, I heard nothing.

Taking a deep breath, I backed away from the edge of the pit and
continued my explorations. I’d almost reached the far side of the cavern when
my foot struck something on the floor. Whatever it was, it made a dry, rattling
sound, followed by a metallic clank. Panicked, I stumbled over something that
felt like a stick and heard more objects scattering under my feet. I knelt
again and felt around. It wasn’t until I found the skull that I realized what
it was I’d tripped over—a skeleton. It was human, judging by the feel, and must
have been there for quite some time given how easily it fell apart when my foot
struck it. There were a few scraps of musty fabric attached to some of the
bones and some moldering splinters of moss–covered wood lying amidst the bones.
I wasn’t sure what the wood had originally been part of, but it was useless for
my purposes now. My fingers sank into it and came away damp and musty.
Remembering the metallic sound, I felt around some more until my fingers fell
across a cold length of steel. I ran them down the shaft until I found a hilt.
I couldn’t believe my luck! It was a sword. I wondered about its owner. Who had
they been? Were they even human? I considered carrying the bones back into the
light and examining them, but decided I was too exhausted.

Regaining my bearings, I carried the sword back to the entrance
of the cave, where the light was better. I examined it with appreciation.
Sunlight glinted off the blade. It was a beautifully crafted weapon, of a style
and design I was unfamiliar with. Despite the fact that I’d found it lying in a
damp cave, there wasn’t a spot of rust on it. The blade was still razor sharp,
and free of dings or notches. I tested it out, checking its weight and balance,
and was amazed. Never had I held such a weapon. It was absolutely perfect.
Whoever had made it, they’d been a true craftsman. My spirits soared once more.
I forgot all about being trapped in another dimension. Possessing such a weapon
as this would make my stay here much easier, no matter how long the duration.

Satisfied with my find, I set about making camp. The cavern
entrance was narrow enough that I could easily defend it should the snake men
return. Obviously, the rear of the cave was dangerous only if I sleepwalked,
which, to the best of my knowledge, I had never done before and had no plans of
doing now. I laid out my gear, keeping the handgun and the sword within easy
reach, and wished for food and water. Tomorrow, I’d have to start the day with
a concerted effort to find both, and that meant returning to the lowlands. My
head ached, and my jaw felt tight. Both were signs of dehydration and hunger.
They would only get worse if I didn’t do something soon. I sorted through my
loose change and stuck a nickel in my mouth. I had read somewhere that if you sucked
on a coin, it worked up saliva in your mouth and eased a thirst. In reality,
all it did was make my mouth taste metallic and greasy. I spat the coin into my
palm, grimacing. My stomach grumbled again.

To take my mind off my hunger, I crouched down at the cave mouth
for a while and watched the sun. I don’t know how long I stayed there. An hour,
perhaps. Maybe more. I do know that it was long enough for my feet to cramp and
my legs to go numb, but I stayed as I was, just watching. In all that time, the
sun never moved. It remained as motionless as I was. I was certain that it
occupied the exact same position in the sky that it had when I’d first arrived
here. Something else I noticed was that unlike the sun on Earth, I could stare
directly into this sun, and it didn’t hurt my eyes. Oh, the glare was still
intense, and if I stared too long, I saw funny shapes and blobs in my vision,
but it wasn’t blinding like the sun back home.