Dark Island

by Matt James

  “Yikes,” Mack said, realizing just how big the tunnel entrance was. Nash confirmed it to be a tunnel and not just a shallow alcove by pulling out his flashlight and clicking it on.

  The beam became lost within.

  Mack turned on her own flashlight, adding its beam to Nash’s. Still nothing. Looking over her shoulder, Mack was unsure of what to do next. Nash made the decision for her by stepping into the opening, gun and light forward. He stopped, seeing that she wasn’t moving.

  “We know what’s back there.” He faced forward. “I don’t know about you, love, but the unknown feels like the better option.”

  She nodded. “Damn right, it does.”

  Slowly, they marched onward. Surprisingly, the grade stayed true and level. Mack expected it to bank left and right while dropping and rising. Their current path was too straight to be naturally made.

  “Someone cut this,” Nash said, saying what she’d been thinking.

  “Yep.”

  Nash looked at her. “And that doesn’t concern you?”

  “No, it does.” She returned his gaze. “The real question is whether the people responsible are still here.”

  Nash laughed. “I doubt it, but who knows, right? At this rate, it wouldn’t surprise me in the least.”

  “Let’s hope not.”

  Nash glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. “Why not?”

  Mack’s body was enveloped in goosebumps. “Because, I don’t want to run into anyone who can survive down here. I seriously doubt they’d be good hosts.”

  Nash nodded. “Right.” His eyebrows raised. “Point taken.”

  “I can’t even begin to comprehend how they could’ve lasted.”

  He snickered. “They didn’t, remember?”

  “You mean we hope they didn’t…”

  Nash looked at her again, his face falling for just a moment. He was as scared as she was, but, like Ian, he was good at hiding it. Mack, on the other hand, wasn’t. She wore her emotions on her sleeve—for better or worse.

  They walked for another fifteen minutes, the scope of the cave system slamming home even more. Finally, the tunnel ended.

  “Um…”

  “What?” Mack asked.

  “Take a look for yourself.”

  Their voices echoed as they spoke, telling Mack that the room in front of them was huge. She could barely make out patches of the glowing blue algae—as well as pods of the green mushrooms. Some looked close, most didn’t.

  Stopping next to Nash, Mack was startled when she kicked a pile of debris. Pointing her flashlight at the ground, she smiled, seeing large branches and dried-out moss. She removed her lighter from her pocket and lit the end of the three-foot-long limb. The wood immediately caught, displaying the encompassing area in a hellish, orange-red glow.

  “Bloody hell.”

  Mack didn’t respond. The only thing she could do was stare at the scene before them.

  Directly in front of Mack and Nash was a primitive graveyard, complete with burial mounds…a lot of them. There had to be more than a hundred, impeccably built mounds of crushed stone. They were all precisely aligned with the next one.

  Not so primitive after all.

  Nash sniffed the air, his eyebrows creasing in thought.

  “What is it?”

  He knelt, rubbing his fingers on the ground. “Not sure.” He lifted his fingers and then rubbed them together. Mack noticed he had a light coating of the blue algae on his hand.

  “Gimmie that, will ya?”

  His hand was reaching out for her torch. “Uh, sure… Why?”

  Taking it, he looked up through the aura and grinned. Then, he winked and tapped the ground. A blue flame instantly burst to life, racing across the room. As it moved, Mack felt her stomach drop. There were many more of the graves than what was just in front of them.

  Thousands more.

  But it wasn’t just the dead being revealed. An underground city bigger than anything Mack had ever heard of was exposed for the first time in who knew how long. Buildings multiple floors in height could be seen in the distance. Then, the blue flame caught a heap of stacked timber and lit. The entire domed cavern was given life that instant.

  “This is unbelievable!” Mack shouted, unable to hide her excitement. The buildings were easy to see now, though the light in the cavern was barely above that of a dusky sunset. Each of the dwellings were built into the side of a tall cliff face, one atop the other—hundreds of them, in fact.

  Nash didn’t share her enthusiasm, however. “Don’t get too excited. There isn’t anybody home.” He looked at her. “It’s a ghost town.” His eyes found the city again. “Whoever lived here, is long dead.”

  Mack’s previously enthusiastic tone soured, glancing back down to the nearest grave. “What do you think killed them?”

  Nash shrugged. “Besides the assholes out there?” He thumbed to the tunnel behind them.

  Mack knew the answer, though. The only creatures on Earth that had the power to delete an entire civilization off the map was mankind. She didn’t have proof of it, but the people here most likely died because of one another.

  The architecture told her that the builders of this great city were smart, much too smart for their timeframe. History had shown them that cavemen, if that’s what they were, were beings of pure instinct, having only a small capacity for creativity and intelligence.

  The precision and complexity of the homes and their staircases, as well as the rope bridges that connected them, displayed a modern-day ingenuity. It was pretty evident that the residents that built this place, while possibly related to humanity, still might not be human. If they weren’t…

  What are you then?

  25

  The bigger dino was an incredible sight, even if it was dead and nothing but bones. Ian was both in awe and afraid—so much so that he didn’t breathe. He didn’t want to be responsible for making the creature collapse after all these years. Its remains were held aloft by the dead in a grotesque, yet artistic kind of way.

  Finally working up the nerve to function, Ian stepped away. “Come on. Let’s see where this place leads.”

  On the other side of the battlefield was more of the same cave. It contained identical dwellings. Each one held the same grizzly remains as the others. Ian still couldn’t figure out why there were bodies inside every single home. Had none of them tried to run? He knew what surprising an enemy could do to that person or people. He’d been personally responsible for some of those “oh shit” looks.

  The enemy, in his case mostly terrorists, would freeze in shock just long enough for Ian to put a bullet in his head…or drag a blade across his throat. The people here were stunned into non-movement. Once the ceiling caved-in, allowing the horde access, they were done for, and by the time someone had reacted, it had been too late.

  As they headed out, Ian noticed that the corridor rose. The incline wasn’t severe, but his body was pretty beat up—Babo too. Both men groaned when they were forced to lean into the slight rise, none too pleased. They passed another grouping of homes as they did. Ian could barely process the notion of a “human” presence beneath the island country, let alone an advanced one of this magnitude.

  They passed twenty-six additional structures before the grade leveled off. There was a strange flicker of light somewhere up ahead, causing the two injured men to suck it up and hurry forward. The only thing that could produce that type of light was a fire. Until now, the only light they’d found beside their flashlights was from various fungi and a handful of crystals embedded in the walls. The latter was definitely the rarer of the two. This section of the cave system was the first to have them present.

  “The others?” Babo asked, sweating profusely.

  “Hopefully,” Ian replied, knowing it was a longshot.

  “Look like fire,” Babo said, sounding unsure.

  Ian agreed but was confused. What could cause a fire down here that wasn’t manmade?

  Lava flow? But th
ere was another possible explanation. Mack and Nash!

  He pulled away from Babo and practically ran to the end of the tunnel. Stepping out onto a shallow, stone platform, Ian got a look at the most amazing thing he’d ever seen. It was more shocking than their previous discoveries combined—even the monstrous skeleton in the pit.

  There, taking up the entirety of the next, even deeper cavern, was a city of layered structures. He immediately deduced that each section of housing was built atop the next by someone else. While they all fit together perfectly, none were exactly the same, showing the individuality of each designer. Some were bigger than the others, while some were small but several floors tall. Regardless, they all stacked on the other like a chaotic jigsaw puzzle of precisely measured architecture.

  “These weren’t just barbaric warriors,” he said when Babo joined him. “They were smart,” he looked up at his taller friend, “really smart.”

  “But how?” Babo asked, his good eye scrunching.

  Ian shrugged. “If there’s one thing I know about history, it’s that she’ll never give up all her secrets.”

  The fire at the bottom of the U-shaped cavern was what caught his attention next. It was a classic, though king-sized, bonfire. Someone had recently lit it, and since the only things alive within the last millennia or so with the capability of lighting such a fire was his own team, Ian knew that at least one, Mack or Nash, had survived and found this place first.

  His money was on Mack. Nash was the fighter, but Mack had shown Ian something that he valued more. She had the will of a warrior—someone that never gave up. Nash knew when to give up and run, Mack didn’t. Nash would undoubtedly be looking for the first route back to the surface. Mack might have the same agenda, but she’d also be focusing her attention on the wonders around them while attempting to find her teammates.

  Just like Ian.

  Taking his eyes off the levels below him, Ian found a precisely-cut staircase carved right into the left-hand wall. No handrail… Great. Carefully following it down, he saw that it eventually connected with a wooden landing that then attached to one of the structures. With the central positioning of the uppermost building, Ian could tell it was probably a guard tower.

  He glanced back into the dark tunnel, visualizing the other homes.

  They were segregated.

  “Hmmm.”

  “Yes?” Babo asked.

  “Let me ask you something, Bob… Why have two separate villages?”

  Ian looked at him, seeing if Babo could process the revelation as fast as he did. Babo did a few seconds later.

  “Army and citizens.”

  Ian nodded. “There were classes within this…” he waved his hand, searching for the right word, “society.” He shook his head. “The warriors were taken out first.” He pointed back up the stairs. “Then, the horde made its way through the city itself and slaughtered everyone.”

  Even with the gloom of the society’s deaths looming in the air, Ian excitedly took off down the stone steps. He needed to see the rest of the settlement, but he also knew what would happen if he got careless and tripped. It made him slow some. There was nothing to grab onto if he went down. No safety features of any kind. He would plummet into, and probably through, the roof of the lookout tower depending on the stage of the rot. Then again, the structure showed very little sign of decomposition. The wood that was used seemed to hold up extremely well against Father Time.

  So instead of bashing through the roof, Ian would splatter against it.

  Either way, ouch…

  Regardless, Ian knew he’d be picking splinters out of his ass for weeks. Or…he’d be dead. Based on the fifty-foot-plus fall, he guessed he had a better chance of becoming a corpse than a human-porcupine hybrid.

  Slowing as he neared the bottom of the steps, Ian looked back to see that Babo was taking his time. He was happy that the more injured man wasn’t rushing to keep up with him. While Ian was sore, bleeding, and fighting off a headache, he was more or less fine. Plus, his interest in this place was deeper and more profound than Babo’s. Abigail would finally be able to reveal her discovery, even if it was postmortem.

  Ian unconsciously reached up and adjusted Abigail’s hat. It still sat firmly on his head, and until now, he’d forgotten that he even had it on.

  He felt confused—his feelings jumbled.

  For some reason, thinking of his deceased wife made him want to see Mack again. It was the first time he’d been okay with “moving on” from Abigail. It was like finding her body here had finally healed the last of the deep, scarring wounds he carried. And, if he was honest with himself, Ian missed the touch of a woman—the companionship it brought with it. He hated feeling alone.

  No more. He touched the hat again. Thank you, Abby…

  Breathing in, he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He smiled at knowing what it was leaving him. It had soured his soul for long enough.

  It was guilt, and Ian no longer felt responsible for his wife’s death. He always told himself that there was more that he could’ve done. It was the same message that haunted him in his dreams. He recalled the one he’d just experienced before waking to face the drongo.

  He growled at the sight of Abigail’s skinless face in the shower.

  Enough!

  He made himself a promise… While exploring the lost city of the cave-dwellers, Ian would search high and low for Mack—Nash too. The team would be stronger together, even if that meant having the mercenary around. It was a classic “strength in numbers” situation. Babo being injured as bad as he was made Nash’s presence that much more important. Ian really needed another person trained like he was.

  He needed Nash.

  Ian was about to step onto the ancient platform between the lookout tower and a connecting bridge. The landing was shaped like a “T,” the tower was to the right and the bridge was to the left.

  Instead, he first poked and prodded the wood with the end of his spear. Nothing. Satisfied, he slowly placed one foot onto it to see if it would, indeed, hold his weight, keeping his other foot on the stone stairs, just in case it collapsed. Still nothing. Impressed, Ian stomped on the landing and swiftly hopped back onto the stairs. Smiling, he was happy to see that the wood barely creaked from the impact. Carefully, he added his full weight, keeping an ear out for anything that sounded like snapping boards. At the first sign of splintering, he’d be leaping back the way he’d come.

  Damn this is thing solid, he thought, feeling absolutely nothing move under his feet.

  But as soon as the thought entered and left his brain, the ground itself shook from a tremor. Riding it out, Ian expected the entire city to go down. He rolled his eyes at his stupidity. The structures had survived this long, surely it had gone through its share of quakes before, right?

  Duh.

  He felt the supports beneath him slightly sway with the movement. The trunks of the massive trees were flexible as well as unbelievably dense.

  Ian waited until the shaking stopped and then continued with his inspection of the guard shack finding it mostly unimpressive. Then again, he wasn’t really sure what he expected to see. Using his flashlight, he swiftly searched each of the four corners of the ten-by-ten room, stopping at the final corner just inside the doorway to his right. The others contained, cut tree logs, looking like they were used as stools for the Babo-sized people.

  Huh?

  And tucked behind the stool to his right, and still gripped in the large hand of someone’s severed, decomposed arm, was something he recognized from the world above. Ian set his spear aside and leaned in with his flashlight. Careful not to damage the relic, he pried the object out of the previous owner’s boney embrace. It looked like it was in use when the person manning the tower was killed.

  The raptors.

  Ian admired the object’s simplistic, streamlined design, knowing it would still be worth a fortune regardless of its lack of exotic construction. He’d seen decorative ones in museums before, a
dorned with precious jewels and metals, but this one was nothing like that. This was one that was used and abused.

  “A war horn?”

  Celtic war horns were common throughout history, generally made from the horn of an animal, such as a cow. Instead, the one Ian held was created using the tooth of a large predator. The knife-shape was that of a fang, or canine. The only creatures he knew of so far that fit the bill would be the raptor’s ancestor, the Roc.

  Even the drongo didn’t have teeth this big!

  A kill of that kind would’ve been a prestigious one in this culture for sure. Ian couldn’t imagine taking one down without the use of a modern weapon. He couldn’t imagine killing anything that big without a gun let alone a primitive, bladed weapon like his borrowed spear.

  Raptors seemed easy to dispatch from what he could tell, just as long as you didn’t run into a pack of them. Given time to study the species, Ian was pretty sure he could eventually figure out how to take down a giant fossa too. He’d already killed a few of the smaller Dorydevils, but seriously doubted he could slay one of the large females.

  Then there was the drongo and, of course, the bigger Roc-hybrid. One definitely existed, and seemingly had a problem with Ian on a personal level. The croc probably wasn’t used to its prey escaping, causing it to become enraged. The other monster, the Roc, was still shrouded in mystery. He really hoped the flying “dragon” was extinct—dead and gone.

  If not…

  “What you find, Ghost?”

  Ian turned and held up the hand-carved warhorn. He stepped out into the cave, having more light to see by. Blowing a heavy layer of dust from the relic, Ian noticed that it had been inscribed with the glyphs of a language he’d never seen before.

  The cave dweller’s language!

  “What do we call them?” he asked.

  Babo thought for a moment. “They razambe…ancestors.” He put a hand on his chest. “My ancestors.”

  “So, the Ancestors…” Ian scratched his chin, but nodded. “Sounds about right.”