The Lost Level (8 page)

“Bloop!” He grunted as if in confirmation.

“And you, Aaron?” Kasheena asked. “What of you? Will you help me
to get home? With the promise that when we arrive, Shameal will assist you?”

I would have helped her anyway, regardless of whether or not her
tribe’s wise man could assist me in getting back home again. Her beauty was
reason enough for me to help her. Indeed, it was powerful enough that I would
have followed her anywhere, just for the privilege of being in her presence.
But I didn’t say any of these things. Instead, I bowed, made a sweeping gesture
with my arm, and pointed at the path.

“Lead the way,” I said.

Her smile was answer enough.

BEFORE
DEPARTING ON OUR JOURNEY
, I returned to the tree stump where I’d stashed
my gear and retrieved my plastic bag. It took me a few minutes to find it, but
my companions were patient.

When I returned, we salvaged the weapons and equipment from the
rest of our fallen foes and stripped them of their armor. Then Bloop and I
piled their corpses together in a heap. The police riot armor fit me, although
it was somewhat loose around my shoulders. The armor reeked of serpent, but I
couldn’t afford to be squeamish. I donned both it and the matching helmet, and
found a dagger that one of the Anunnaki had sheathed in his boot. Testing the
blade proved it to be very sharp and finely honed. I wondered if the
craftsmanship was that of the snake men, or if the weapon had simply been
stolen from one of their captives. There was no detailing or design work on the
hilt that might indicate a manufacturer, which I found curious given its expert
quality. Shrugging, I added the small blade to my armament of sword and
handgun. I considered taking some of the other guns, as well, but they had less
ammunition than mine, and I didn’t want to overburden myself with extra
weapons. Juggling multiple firearms would make them more difficult to carry,
and harder to use quickly, if needed. I experimented for a long time with the
strange heat rifle but was unable to figure out how to operate it. Neither of
my companions was familiar with it, either. Regretfully, I cast it aside.

Kasheena selected one of the pistols and a short sword. When I
asked her if she knew how to shoot, she merely smiled at me. None of the armor
would fit her or Bloop, but in addition to the sword he’d previously taken, our
furry blue companion chose a second blade of equal size and length. He made
quite an imposing figure, standing there with one sword hilt in each massive
fist—a fuzzy sort of corsair. Judging by what I’d seen of his dexterity so far,
I had no doubt he could wield both weapons with accuracy. I wondered idly if he
could simultaneously brandish a third sword with his tail, but I had no way of
asking, and my attempt to communicate the question via sign language was
futile. He merely frowned at me and repeated his name.

I searched through the canvas backpack the last snake man had
been wearing. It was in good shape and contained a number of small items—coins,
rocks, a small serpent pendant with jade green eyes. The latter made me uneasy
to look at, and I tossed it aside. I also got rid of the rocks after a quick
examination. Perhaps they’d meant something to their owner, but I saw no
discernable value in them. The coins were rough–hewn and crude, with no
markings or engravings. The backpack also contained Kasheena and Kasham’s
clothing, which consisted of fur loincloths. Kasheena put hers on. I tried not
to watch, busying myself instead with transferring all of my gear into the
backpack.

“Is that all your people wear?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I had more, as did my uncle, but I do not
see them in the pack. But no, I do not travel about with only a loincloth. That
would be foolish. It does not offer much protection.”

It occurred to me that for Kasheena, clothing was a matter of
practicality, rather than modesty.

“Will you be okay in just that?”

“I will have to be,” she replied, shrugging again. “Perhaps we
will find more as we go along.”

Finally, we buried Kasheena’s uncle. I used one of the leftover
swords to dig up the dirt. The soil was soft and rich, and the task was easy
enough. There were few roots or rocks to impede my progress. As I dug, I
stirred up several insects, worms, and grubs. Some of them were very much like
the ones found on Earth. Others were entirely alien to me. Bloop greedily ate
handfuls of the grubs, smacking his lips together and grunting with an obvious,
if somewhat discomforting, pleasure. When he offered me some, I declined with a
polite hand gesture. The ones I’d eaten earlier in the day had been enough for
me. Bloop gobbled another handful. He smiled at me, grub pulp dangling from his
whiskers. When he’d finished, he and I lowered Kasham into the hole. Then we
stood by solemnly while Kasheena hovered over the grave.

“Do your people believe in a Heaven?” I asked when she’d finished
her mourning.

“What is Heaven?”

I laughed. “Well, back where I come from, many people ask the
same question. Heaven is an afterlife—it’s a place we go after we die. At least
in spirit.”

“Perhaps my people go to Heaven,” she said. “I do not know.”

“Your people must have some sort of belief about what happens
when you die?”

She shrugged. “All I know is that we leave this place. That is
what I have always been told, and I believe it to be so. I have seen many
people die, and I have never seen them again after that, so they must have
indeed left the Lost Level.”

“And I’m assuming you bury all of your people after they die?
Like we just did for your uncle?”

“Well, of course we do. If we didn’t, the animals would eat,
pick, and scatter their corpses. Do your people not do the same for your dead?”

“We do,” I admitted, “for the most part. But it holds more
significance than that. It’s a ritual of sorts. A way of saying goodbye to
those we care about.”

“Bloop,” our fur–covered compatriot exclaimed.

“Exactly,” I said.

Our conversation faltered as we began our trek through the
jungle. When we did talk it was in hushed tones, short snatches of
communication regarding the direction we should go. Occasionally, my companions
would warn me about certain plants or would halt suddenly, alerted by various
jungle sounds. In one case, there was a distinct, light chirp, the kind much
like those of the songbirds back home, but the delightfully cheery sound obviously
filled Kasheena and Bloop with dread. They crouched in a bed of ferns, both
visibly frightened. Both of them motioned at me to get down, so I did. We
remained hidden in silence, and neither of them moved again until long after
the sound had faded.

“What was it?” I asked.

“A tikka–bird,” Kasheena whispered. “Very small, but very
dangerous. It is no bigger than your thumb, and most of it is teeth. Their bite
is poisonous, and can paralyze their prey within a few heartbeats. When they
attack, others like them are drawn by the scent of blood. Such a flock can
devour you within minutes, stripping the flesh from your bones.”

“So, they’re sort of like flying piranha?”

“I do not know these flying piranha, but if they attack and eat
anything that moves, then yes. That is like the tikka–bird. Of all the dangers
here, I think they are among the worst.”

I had a vision in my head of a flying school of piranha with
feathers and wings. It seemed ludicrous to me, but Kasheena’s dread was
apparent. She was clearly shaken, judging by her expression and behavior. I
glanced at Bloop. His nostrils were flared, and he scanned the treetops and
branches warily.

“Well,” I said, “then I hope I never meet one up close.”

“If you do, you will probably not live to tell about it, and should
you be fortunate enough to escape, it will be without your ears or nose or
perhaps your fingers.”

We proceeded in silence again for a while. A pall seemed to hang
over the jungle. It wasn’t until the vegetation began to grow thinner and more
sunlight shined through the openings that we talked again. When we did, I asked
Kasheena something else that had been on my mind.

“How is it that you speak my language?”

She laughed. “Perhaps it is my language that you speak, Aaron
Pace.”

I nodded, agreeing that the semantics were correct. “Do all of
your people speak English?”

“Is that what you call your language? English?”

“Yes.”

“That is what we speak, though we do not call it that. It is a
funny word.”

“Do you know how your language originated?”

She shrugged. “I only know that we have always spoken it. I
assume it was the language of our ancestors.”

“So, maybe your tribe came from the same place I did.”

“Perhaps. I do not know. I know that my father’s father was not
our first chieftain. There were several before him. It is said that the first
people came here from the sky.”

“From the sky? You mean, like in an airplane?”

“I do not know what that is.”

“It’s a…we have them back on my world. They’re a means of
transport. Like a chariot.”

“I do not know what that is, either.”

“A chariot is a cart that people ride in. It’s usually pulled by
some sort of animal. An airplane is similar to that, I guess, except that it is
powered by mechanical means. People sit inside of them and fly through the sky.”

She squinted at me, as if trying to determine if I was teasing
her. Then she shook her head.

“That is back on your world. We do not have airplane chariots.
But our ancestors did not come from elsewhere. They came from the sky. The sky
is here, not elsewhere.”

“But the sky they came from could have been my sky.”

“I do not know. Perhaps. I saw what I thought was a metal bird
fly overhead when I was a girl. Maybe instead of a bird, it was one of these
airplanes. But I do not know where it came from.”

I decided to try another question. “Your uncle’s skin was a
different color than yours. Is that common in your tribe?”

She nodded, making an expression that seemed to indicate she
thought this observation very odd. “We have many different colors. Why? Is that
unusual on your world?”

“Not at all,” I said. “I’m just trying to determine some things
here so that I can better understand. Like where your ancestors originally came
from, for example.”

“We have never worried much about these things, Aaron Pace. My
people are more concerned with important matters, like finding food and
defending our village and making offspring.”

“Do you….” I faltered, feeling my ears turn hot. “Do you have any…children?”

Hands on her hips, Kasheena tossed her head back and laughed.

“No.” She shook her head. “Not yet, for I have not chosen my
mate. But I will soon. Already, my people urge me to do so.”

“Why have you waited?”

“There are certain things I must do first. There are tasks and
feats required of all men and women in our tribe before we can select a mate or
before those we choose can offer their consent.”

“Like what?”

She shrugged. “I must walk across the fire. Hunt and kill enough
to feed the entire village for one night. Nothing too difficult. I have
completed many of them already. And until I finish the other tasks, I am
content to wait for one who I deem worthy.”

“Do you have many…suitors?”

She frowned, clearly not understanding the word.

“Many potential mates,” I said. “Do you have many who are
interested? Or who you are interested in?”

“A few,” Kasheena replied. Her smile grew playful. “But I am in
no hurry to make up my mind, no matter how insistent the others in my tribe
are.”

“Good to know,” I said.

Now it was Kasheena’s ears which turned red. I noticed her smile
grow wider.

It matched my own.

As we continued on our way, Bloop took the lead. Kasheena
followed him, and I brought up the rear. More of the jungle gave way to forest,
and the breeze became more noticeable. Pausing, I removed my helmet and closed
my eyes, relishing the feel of the wind on my face and forehead, cooling my
sweat. Then, the breeze brought something less enjoyable—an overpowering and
unmistakable stench of feces. Scowling, I put my helmet back on, but it did
little to block the smell. Bloop and Kasheena noticed it, as well. Both of
their noses wrinkled in disgust, and Bloop coughed. I wondered how sensitive
his sense of smell was and what impact this foul odor might be having on him.

As we pressed onward, the stench grew stronger. Soon enough, we
discovered the source. A tremendous pile of animal dung lay directly in our
path. It was as wide as a full–sized car and taller than I was. A horde of
insects buzzed and flitted around the stinking pile. My companions paused in
front of it, inspecting the mound. Bloop prodded at the feces with the tip of
his sword, dislodging several skeletal remains.

“What the hell made this?” I gasped.

“A dragon,” Kasheena answered. “But the pile is not fresh. See?
There is no steam coming off it, and the smell is not as strong as it would be
had these been recent droppings. The insects have already begun to burrow
inside of it. I would say this dragon passed through here several hours ago. We
should be safe.”

“A dragon?” I repeated, gagging.

“That is what my people call them. Perhaps your people have another
name.”

“I doubt it. Dragons are a pretty universal concept. But there’s
no such thing as dragons.”

“Of course there are,” Kasheena said. “Here is the dung of one.
Be thankful we crossed paths only with its dung and not with the dragon itself.
Otherwise, we would be part of its next droppings.”

I started to respond, when a gleam amidst the feces caught my
eye. My attention focused on it. Noticing my curiosity, Bloop dug around with
his sword and freed the object. It was a bent and misshapen wheel from a
wheelchair—not the common type found in hospitals, but from one of the more
expensive kind used by people who are paralyzed or otherwise convalescent and
spend their entire lives in such things. A few more wheelchair parts and bits
of metal oozed from the feces. I wondered who it had belonged to and how it had
gotten here, and more importantly, how it had ended up inside the belly and
intestinal tract of a supposed dragon.