Amygdala

by Harper J. Cole

  Three steps forward were enough. Then Bala focused on her target and swung, her arm fully extended, feet braced lightly on the ground.

  And … bullseye!

  She had judged the distance perfectly. The ball struck home with a satisfying clang, catching Krikili on what passed for its left temple. The head vanished from view – knocked clean off, as far as she could judge, while the rest of the creature’s body had barely moved.

  Her weapon felt suddenly lighter. A downward glance revealed that the ball had come free at the moment of impact, confirming her worst fears about the quality of their weaponry.

  But perhaps it had already done its work…?

  No.

  Impossibly, Krikili’s head was back in place, eyes swirling and frozen features grinning as though nothing had happened. Issuing forth a rhythmic hooting that might have been a laugh, it advanced on Bala, a single scythe raised to strike.

  She had only a short length of chain with which to defend herself. It was less than useless. Still, she took it between her hands and stretched it taut. Against a flesh and blood opponent, this might be usable as a garotte, but against this nightmare?

  Krikili wasn’t about to let her find out. It drove the tip of its scythe down into the chain with unnatural precision, shattering it completely, loose links flying everywhere. Bala stumbled, thrown off balance by the impact, losing her footing and landing flat on her back.

  Sinuous fingers reached for her throat. She felt their cold tips upon her flesh and was struck again by the foetid odour the monster carried with it, now overwhelming in its intensity.

  A bulky figure sprang out of the darkness and onto Krikili's back. Buchu had lost his sword but was ready to fight with his bare hands. He clawed at the smooth head, fingers searching for something he could crush.

  Krikili’s eyes remain locked on Bala for a moment more. Then it seemed to invert, head and limbs twisting through one hundred and eighty degrees to face its attacker. With a surge it drove Buchu back out of view.

  Bala scrambled to her feet, grunts of exertion and bellows of pain and anger reaching her from somewhere within Krikili's shroud. Her eyes scanned the floor for a weapon, alighting upon the sword Sandra Rivers had carried, lying close to the crumpled form of the professor. She couldn’t spare the time to check up on her friend; instead, she grabbed the sword and turned to rejoin the fight.

  But now all was quiet. The black cloud was rapidly dispersing.

  When it had gone, there was no sign of either Krikili or Buchu.

  XII

  A person often meets their destiny on the road they took to avoid it.

  – Jean de la Fontaine

  “She was lucky, in one sense,” reported Iris. “Whichever part of Krikili struck her appears to have been blunt. Very unlucky in another sense, though. The point of impact was close to her existing injury – the concussion she picked up in the fight back on Mahi Mata. She’s in bad shape.”

  Annie looked down at the body of Sandra Rivers. “Will she live?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know.”

  “Well, can we move her? Can we take her with us?”

  “We’d need to improvise a stretcher, or her condition would only worsen.” Iris cocked her head. “It would slow us down if we had to carry her.”

  “Hey, you’re not saying we leave her behind?”

  “Is it so unreasonable? She herself suggested leaving Gypsy and Alice behind earlier.”

  Annie felt her face reddening. “What is this, a contest to see who’s the most heartless? Her idea was dumb, but yours is worse – we know full well what’ll happen, this time around.”

  “And if we have to fight again, while protecting her?”

  “Then we’ll be up against it, but we are anyway.” Annie looked down at the blood-soaked rags about her chest. She’d been cut pretty badly when Krikili attacked. Half an inch deeper, and it would have been the end of her. As it was she was beginning to resemble a mummy, between this and her broken arm, still tightly wrapped and throbbing worse than ever since the fight.

  “Look,” she asserted, “she’s coming with us, okay? I don’t wanna hear any more about it.”

  “I just … want to live a bit longer,” said Iris quietly.

  That softened Annie’s demeanour somewhat. “Course, that’s natural, you’re only human. Look, I’m scared of that thing too, but if it’s every woman for herself we’ve got no chance. Just stay with her while we look around for something to scavenge, okay? We’re gonna make us a stretcher.”

  Iris gave the smallest of nods. Guess that’ll have to do, thought Annie. She motioned for Bala to check one way while she went the other. The Nigerian was stony-faced but flicked a thumbs-up and did as she was asked.

  Annie decided to stick to the main passages, as they were the ones where the Gatarans seemed to have made most of their additions to Vitana’s handiwork. Perhaps there would be some element of these embellishments that could be used to build a stretcher.

  There had better be, or they weren’t going anywhere.

  * * *

  “I’m getting tired. Two-minute rest break, then we go on.”

  “Okay Mum,” wheezed Gypsy. “Shouldn’t we keep walking, though, at least?”

  “Good idea – how close are we?”

  “Perhaps, ah, twenty minutes?”

  “Fine. You’re doing great.” Alice didn’t say anything more – she didn’t want to distract her daughter to the point of losing track of where they were going. Gypsy was handling the mental side of things well. It was the physical challenge of running for a prolonged period that was causing her more difficulty right now; all those years spent cooped up in her room had inevitably left her profoundly unfit. Alice had been forced to restrict their speed to a steady jog to ensure there’d be no collapse.

  She herself was coping rather better. Regular usage of the treadmill back on the Bona Dea had left her in decent shape; she could even carry her heavy club over one shoulder, military parade style, without serious difficulty.

  Gypsy’s head kept swinging back and forth as she went, probably checking that the layout matched her expectations. In the last few minutes they’d been moving steadily downwards through small, short passages that criss-crossed frequently.

  If this was the correct route, and Alice had no doubt that her daughter knew what she was doing, then it would have been hard to find by chance. It was natural to think of upwards as the correct way to go: back to the surface. She was reminded of one of her favourite childhood books, Alice Through the Looking-glass, where the only way to get somewhere had been by heading dead away from it.

  She smiled in reminiscence. They’d called her “Alice in Cumberland” at school, on account of all the time she’d spent pouring over the works of Lewis Carroll. Finding a story where the heroine bore her name had made all the difference in the world to a young reader, lacking in confidence. She’d imagined herself heading down the rabbit-hole. In a sense, those fantasies had become reality.

  Scrape, scrape, scrape.

  Alice’s heart lurched. She’d tried to brace herself for this, but it was still a sickening blow, because they were still too far from safety to be hearing that sound.

  Couldn’t you have just given us twenty more minutes? she thought. But no. You were never going to let us go that easily.

  Gypsy was looking back at her, wrinkled brow showing sadness more than fear now.

  Scratch-scrape, scrape-scratch.

  “Run,” said Alice simply, and Gypsy obeyed at once, sucking in a single breath before turning and launching herself forwards.

  Alice eased into place a couple of paces back. At least the sounds of pursuit were distant yet, and seemed to be coming from behind them. They still had a clear run to the finish line. It was a race, plain and simple.

  Tightening her grip on her club, Alice focused her attention on the path ahead, her mind cleared of all thoughts save one.

  You’re not taking my daughter.

>   * * *

  “How does that look?”

  “Serviceable.”

  Annie looked at her handiwork with a touch of pride, despite the circumstances. They’d had a serious stroke of luck, Bala finding a wooden rack filled with spears. Using both the weapons and the wooden boards that had supported them, Annie had been able to design a crude stretcher. They’d moved their few remaining provisions into a single backpack, tearing loose the straps from the other packs to help hold the stretcher together.

  With the utmost care, they moved the limp form of Sandra Rivers onto the stretcher. Annie winced every time she saw the ugly swelling behind the professor’s right temple. She was in bad shape.

  The rest of them weren’t much better. Bruised, battered, filthy, dressed in little more than rags, limbs bare beneath the knees and elbows, the trio resembled overgrown street urchins.

  But we’re still kickin’.

  “We’ll take it in turns with the stretcher,” she declared, but Bala shook her head.

  “We shall not. Your spirit is willing, but your arm is weak. Sandra may not survive being dropped.” Without waiting for argument, she crouched to take the front of the stretcher, while Iris moved to the rear.

  “Fine,” Annie conceded. “I’ll get the backpack, at least.” She slung it over her shoulder with a wince.

  “Any search plans?” asked Bala.

  “Just to keep looking in places we’ve not been before, unless either of you have any better ideas?” Their silence indicated that they did not. “Right, let’s do it. Last big effort, gang!”

  They set forth once more into the labyrinth.

  * * *

  Scrape, scrape, scrape …

  Gypsy’s lungs burned. Her chest and muscles ached and her vision was beginning to blur.

  But she dared not stop.

  Every time she felt as though she was physically incapable of running another step, Krikili would make its presence known behind them, prompting her to force another breath into her lungs and go on.

  Concentration was becoming difficult, but she still clung to that image: the Mandelbrot maze, the heart at its centre, a pair of dots showing their current location. They were close now.

  But not close enough.

  Scrape-scratch, scratch-scrrrrrrrrrrrape …

  Krikili sounded as though it was trying to gouge holes in the stonework with its claws. It was hot on their heels now, and Gypsy was struggling to judge which direction it was coming from. It hardly mattered. The creature plainly knew where they were. Hiding was not an option. They could only run and hope.

  They rounded a bend and abruptly found themselves in near darkness. Gypsy stumbled against a wall, then righted herself. They were in a broad stretch of passageway lit only by infrequent shafts from above. Fortunately, Gypsy knew where to go without looking, so the poor visibility shouldn’t matter. They just needed to bear right until they came to a side passage.

  Reaching back to take her mother’s arm, Gypsy began to trot through the darkness. Almost immediately, a shriek of metal on stone echoed throughout the passage, seeming to come from all directions at once.

  It’s in here with us, she thought, eyes frantically scanning the gloom for tell-tale flashes of light. Or up above, waiting to grab us as we go by.

  They had to go on, Gypsy realised, focusing once again on their escape route. But she was slowing down unconsciously with each step, and with each unearthly screech that echoed about them. It felt like running headlong into a hurricane and waiting to be swept up in the winds.

  To her surprise, Gypsy felt a tug on her arm, bring her to a stop by one of the shafts of light.

  “Mum …?” she croaked, trying to speak, breathe and keep quiet all at the same time.

  “Just need a rest. I’m not cut out for this running lark.”

  Gypsy was surprised, as her mother hadn’t been panting and wheezing like she had for the past half an hour, but she obeyed. Her lungs were grateful for the rest, even as her heart urged her to keep going.

  Another chilling screech echoed about them. Gypsy felt as though the reverberations were ripping through her ears and scratching their signature across the surface of her brain.

  “Shouldn’t we hide if we’re resting? Or move away from the light at least? It’ll see us!”

  “Reckon it knows where we are already, honey.”

  “We can’t be sure of that. What are you doing?” Gypsy felt her mother gently guide the two of them under the illumination. It looked just like daylight. A cruel joke – there must be miles of earth and stone between them and the true sun.

  “I just want to look at you.” Alice positioned the two of them directly beneath the shaft.

  Gypsy looked upon the face she’d seen every day of her life, without ever once truly observing it. Strong jaw, strong cheekbones, kindly grey eyes, brown hair with locks of grey about the temples.

  “Grey hair? When did that happen?” she murmured.

  Alice sighed. “I’m old now.”

  Another shriek brought reality crashing in around them. It was definitely coming from above, Gypsy decided. Her gaze ran over the ceiling, soon resting on a darker patch past her mother’s right shoulder; one of the artificial additions to Vitana’s labyrinth, part of a network of tunnels Krikili used to move around quicker than its prey.

  “Mum. Behind you…”

  Alice seemed not to hear her. She brushed back Gypsy’s hair and kissed her lightly on the forehead.

  “They told me you’d never be able to talk. They said you’d never be able to function properly by yourself. Just look at you now – maths genius, space heroine. You showed ‘em, right ‘n’ proper.”

  Realisation struck Gypsy, stealing her breath just as thoroughly as the mad dash through the labyrinth had done. She shook her head frantically.

  “No. We can still make it. Don’t.”

  “You’re going to have to be brave now, love. I bet there’s others still alive, and they’re going to need you to beat the maze. You know the way.”

  Even in the dim light, Gypsy could see billows of a deeper darkness descending from above. Krikili seemed to flow out of the opening, taking shape behind Alice.

  “Mum…”

  Gypsy felt a smooth, cool object being pressed into her palm.

  “I love you. And I know you’re going to be fine.” Alice’s voice was quickening now. Time was too short for the long goodbye they deserved. “Just keep going, Gypsy.”

  Krikili had completely formed behind Alice. It spread its arms wide.

  Alice looked Gypsy right in the eyes and spoke a single word.

  “Run.”

  Then she spun about and stepped out into the darkness, weapon swinging in defiance.

  Gypsy heard a single heavy crash followed by a brief clattering. Something wet splashed across her face. There was a rush of air from somewhere in front of her. After that, silence.

  Silence and solitude.

  Gypsy wanted to curl into a ball and never move again. She wanted to close her eyes until this stopped being real.

  But her mother had told her to run.

  Turning mechanically back towards the exit, Gypsy Cumberland stumbled on alone.

  * * *

  Annie was almost relieved when she heard Krikili coming for them again. She was tired of the crushing disappointment that struck them again and again as each corner they turned revealed no hint of an exit, only more lifeless stone passages.

  Still, she couldn’t bring herself to just give up.

  “Let’s give hiding a try.”

  As Krikili’s scratching grew closer, they found a little tunnel slightly raised from the floor. Iris clambered inside, then helped Bala manoeuvre Rivers up and in, moving as gently as they could given their need for haste.

  Bala followed, then Annie jumped in last. The tunnel narrowed rapidly, so they couldn’t back up very far – Annie found herself crouched barely a foot from the lip. Once they were packed in, there was little to do
but wait.

  It was hot and cramped in their little hidey-hole, every sound they made magnified in the confined space. The rough and ragged breathing of Sandra Rivers soon came to dominate Annie’s attention; as pained as it sounded, she supposed that any breathing was a good thing under the circumstances.

  Scrape, scratch.

  Krikili was in the passage outside, perhaps twenty feet away.

  It likes to take us one at a time. Now it’s my turn.

  Fine.

  Annie had a plan. She wouldn’t resist when the monster pulled her out of her hiding place. Instead, she’d conserve her energy, waiting for the right moment to strike. After Bala had caught Krikili with her flail earlier, Annie felt sure that she’d seen a little hole at the point of impact. Now, what might happen if she jabbed her sword through that hole? It couldn’t be good for whatever was inside.

  Worth a try, anyway.

  Tendrils of black smoke began to drift past Annie, soon thickening and becoming a cloud. A single click sounded just beyond her field of vision.

  It’s playing with me, she decided. Thinks it’s gonna surprise me when it yanks me outta here. Well, I’ve got a surprise for you too, buddy.

  Annie gripped her sword tightly with both hands; her injured arm protested the motion, but it would be plan ruined if she dropped her only weapon.

  Then she waited.

  For ten seconds.

  Twenty.

  Thir-

  BOOM.

  The reverberation was so loud that Annie, starting violently in the confined space, pricked herself in the cheek with the point of her sword. Just as well that it was blunt, and only cost her a few more droplets of blood.

  She didn’t care about that. What had the noise been? Some new trick of Krikili’s? No … she heard the demon flee with a clatter. Hardly able to believe what was happening, Annie clambered tentatively out into the open. Bala joined her.

  Something odd was happening with the lighting. A pale patch in the ceiling to Annie’s right flashed bright for a fraction of a second, then one to her left did the same, then another further left, and so onwards, down the passage. A few seconds later, the pattern was repeated.