by Greig Beck
Monica was standing on the bank looking downstream. She turned to Silex, not caring that she was staring into his face and blinding him with the bright beam of her helmet light. “Well, we need to follow that river and we don’t have diving equipment or a raft with us, so you’re right, we do build a boat—but not from rocks, Dr. Silex, from people. There is a caving style for travelling down streams to ensure everyone stays together in the dark. It’s called the Disney method—everyone sits one behind the other holding on to the person in front by their feet. We rope everyone’s waists together and create a set of human train carriages. We’ll also need an anchor—someone who is tied to the group but set about twenty feet back to act as an emergency brake. Usually they’re the biggest member of the team.” Monica turned to wink at Tank.
Tank smiled and said, “Shucks, I didn’t even have to volunteer.”
“We also need a driver; that’ll be me.”
Alex quickly overruled the caver. “Good idea, Ms. Jennings, but I’ll sit out in front this time. The team is going to be too heavy for you to steer and I’m better able to sustain impacts. However, I’d like you to be right behind me, guiding me and telling me what to expect.”
They all turned to look at the river. None of the team particularly looked forward to getting into the black water and floating into the impenetrable darkness that loomed ahead. However, everyone realised that going back would be even worse.
Takeda took a reading downriver with a portable echo distance display unit and spoke back to the group. “Straight run for about two miles then it either bends, dips or stops. No narrowing I can detect.”
“OK, people. We travel the straight distance and stop for rest when we get to the bend. Let’s keep moving.”
Monica wound the soft rope around Alex’s waist and then left a vacant loop for herself to climb into. She looped in Matt, Mike and then Aimee. Takeda went next, then Silex and twenty feet back, Tank as the anchor man. Tank had already removed a small collapsible grappling hook from his pack and tucked it and its rope tether into his front suit pouch. They were ready.
If it wasn’t for Alex leading the way, they may have all hesitated a few minutes while working up their courage. As it was, before they had time to think he was wading into the water, and all being tied together, they had to follow.
Rocks moved; then more. A low groan emanated from under the rubble. A large flat piece of stone flipped over like a door opening and a black-clad figure sat up.
Borshov slowly pulled the knife from the orbital socket of his eye and felt something warm and jellied fall to his cheek.
In the darkness he felt the ragged hole and cursed in old Russian. He resheathed the sticky blade and pulled a small light from a pocket as he rose to his feet.
Seventeen
It was slower going than many of them expected. Though the stream travelled at about three knots their weight and bulk meant they travelled closer to two knots. At this rate Monica estimated they would be in the cold water for an hour; not great, but there was no choice. The thermal lining in their suits would provide some protection, but eventually the cold would seep through and start to slow down muscle reaction time. Any longer than that and hypothermia would set in.
The only sounds were the slight tinkling of the stream and a few whispers from among the team members. Matt kept both hands around Monica’s waist and Monica in turn dropped her hands to cover his. For the most part, except for the odd bump it was a fairly smooth ride.
Several times the team passed little black sandy beaches and heard scuttling sounds off in the darkness. But when they turned their torches in the direction of the noise, there was nothing there. From time to time they also witnessed small flashes of light on the walls of the cave. Monica leaned forward to Alex. “Bioluminescence, or cold light; probably small cave organisms or fungi. If we get enough, maybe we can do without the torches.”
Alex had requested they keep moving their arms and legs as much as possible in their restricted positions to ensure they kept their blood flowing right down to their extremities. It was easy to become numbed, and it was this numbness that allowed Mike not to notice that the water had diluted the gel over his wounds and they were once again beginning to bleed.
In the stream his faint blood trail moved ahead of them, at three knots to their two. In the dark and with such a small amount of blood it could not possibly be noticed; not by human senses anyway. After about fifty minutes in the water, Mike noticed his wounds were becoming almost unbearably itchy. It was not for a HAWC to complain about hunger, pain or discomfort. He had slept in snow, hidden in a steel drum in hundred degree heat and been camouflaged under mud for eighteen hours; he would wait until they reached a rest point as instructed by their team leader.
At last they reached a suitable rest point just a few hundred feet before the stream veered around a huge fallen boulder. A small beach of black sand curved in a crescent at the base of the rock wall. They all stood up in the waist-deep water, stepped out of the rope loops and struggled up the bank on cold stiff legs. Though they were shivering the team was in good spirits and looking forward to some rest, and perhaps some more chocolate. Takeda immediately took to lighting a miniature propane heating unit. Each of the HAWCs carried them; they could be used for emergency lighting, as an incendiary device, or in Takeda’s case, a way to heat his precious green tea. Alex allowed the small break in the rules as Takeda was the most serene and efficient warrior he had ever come across; if the tea helped, then he could have it.
Aimee was the first to notice the changes in Mike. He was bent over and his robust frame was smaller and seemed somehow shrunken. Where the rope had previously been looped tight around his lean muscular body, his waist had not yet snapped back into place. He looked deformed, soft.
“Mike? Mike, are you OK?” Aimee grabbed his arm and turned him around.
On hearing Aimee raise her voice, Alex rushed over to where Mike stood unsteadily on his feet. In the harsh light of Aimee’s torch his face was slack and looked like wax. Alex stared into Mike’s eyes and asked, “Second Lieutenant Mike Lennox, what is your immediate operational status?”—a command any of the HAWCs would have instantly responded to.
Mike coughed and fell forward. Alex caught him and lowered him to the ground, turning him over onto his back. Mike’s body was different—he felt lighter and less substantial. Mike coughed again, then again harder. This time some redness appeared on his lips. The team gathered around and bathed Mike’s prone body in the combined light of multiple helmet beams.
“He’s bleeding internally.” Alex rolled him onto his side to assist his breathing and this time Mike began coughing continuously. Blood spots appeared on the black sand, and then with the next racking cough a rush of a red gelatinous fluid gushed from his mouth to pile on the sand next to him.
“Oh shit, there’s something living in him.” Silex jumped back; there was no scientific curiosity, just a base human reaction to a severe parasitic infection. The disgust was clear on his face as he unconsciously began wiping his hands on his sides. Silex was right, among the piles of jelly beside Mike’s face there was a mass of worms, each about six inches long, writhing on the sand. The black and red mess had undoubtedly come from the flesh and blood the worms had been consuming from inside Mike.
Tank pushed Silex out of the way and cradled Mike’s head while Alex reached down and undid the straps on his caving suit. The sight that met their eyes made even the battle-hardened HAWCs wince, and Tank moaned at the vision. Where there were once wounds, there were now ragged holes that were alive with worms. Mike’s stomach and chest cavity must have been full of them as the skin moved across his bones in an unnatural rippling manner. His jaw worked as though he was trying to say something, but it wasn’t clear whether it was actually Mike or the worms sliding beneath the muscles in his neck and face.
“Dr. Weir, what are those things, leeches?” Alex himself wasn’t keen to touch Mike until he knew what they were dealing with.
&nbs
p; Aimee had the back of her hand across her mouth; disgust and fear distorting the features of her face.
“Dr. Weir? Aimee?” Alex reached out and touched her arm.
“I, I don’t think so, more likely down here they’re some form of nematode.”
Aimee crouched down and tried to concentrate on Mike’s condition, hoping scientific curiosity would override her revulsion.
“Can we get them out of him?” Monica asked the question, although it was plain to everyone that even with the best medical care he probably stood little chance, and down here he was as good as dead. In the few extra minutes they stood around him he seemed to further deflate and shrivel as his flesh was being consumed from the inside out.
“I thought nematodes were microscopic things that lived in the soil,” Matt said.
“There are tens of thousands of types of nematodes and more than half are parasitic. Most are microscopic, but some are bigger, much bigger. There’s one species that can get to about thirty feet—it parasitises the sperm whale. These things have been around since the Cambrian and like our giant cephalopod, have probably been trapped down here for millions of years.”
“Yuck, those things were in the water with us.” Monica was stripping off her suit and checking her body. Everyone quickly did the same.
“I think we’ll be OK. Mike was the only one who was hurt and bleeding. These things are little more than mouths on the end of a fleshy pipe. They must have sensed Mike’s blood in the water and homed in on him,” Aimee said.
Mike’s eyes were like glass. They bulged up from his face and then began to sink into his sockets just as there was an almost inaudible phutt sound, and a small dark hole appeared in his forehead, not made by the parasites, but from Tank who fired a pulse projectile into Mike’s brain in an act of mercy for his brother. No one recoiled or even winced; it was the right thing to do.
“Permission to dispose of the body?”
Alex didn’t have to think before responding. “Permission granted, soldier.”
Tank lifted what was left of Mike. From once being a man who looked like he weighed in at 200 pounds, Mike now looked a quarter of that. The worms dropped freely from his sleeves and ankles where the suit wasn’t fully closed. Tank walked with the body to the corner of the beach and knelt beside him. He looked to be talking to his brother one last time. He stood, crossed himself and removed his own propane cylinder from his backpack and proceeded to spray Mike all over. Tank depressed the ignition stud and Mike’s body flared yellow as the highly flammable propellant burst into life. As the suit burnt and peeled away there was an insane thrashing all over his body as the parasitic worms reacted to the destruction of their home and last meal.
Tank rejoined the group but his head, like his spirits, was down. Alex walked over to him and grabbed his shoulders. “Tank, he made us all proud. He was one of the best we ever had, I’m going to miss him; we all will.”
Tank gripped Alex’s forearms in both his hands. His lips were clamped together and his eyes shut tightly. Tank and Mike had been inseparable their whole lives. They had looked out for each other and shared everything, from pushbikes to being in the same football team and on to military training. They had regularly topped their classes in strategy and combat and they were both delighted to be selected for second-level training to become Green Berets. Then, after distinguishing themselves on complex missions they were further assigned to fifth-level training to become US Navy SEALs. In just another two years they had been invited to join the HAWCs and had attended tenth-level training under Major Jack Hammerson. Tank wrenched his arms away from Alex and brought his hands up to the side of his head as through he was about to scream only to bring them down hard on Alex.
Alex caught and held the bigger man’s wrists easily. Though Tank outweighed Alex by fifty pounds, Alex was far stronger. Alex knew the big man was not wrestling with him, but with the pain of his loss. Tank’s face was contorted in a suffering that only a person who has just lost someone very close to them could understand. When Alex felt the pressure let up he released Tank’s arms and allowed him to walk off down the beach to gather his thoughts. Alex would let him mourn for a little while, but would not let him withdraw into himself. Everyone was needed now, especially his remaining HAWCs.
Alex saw Aimee approaching him along the beach. When she reached him she stood silently for minutes, just watching Tank’s massive form moving off into the dark. At last she spoke. “It’s all going bad, isn’t it?”
He thought for a while and then turned to her. “I can’t say this is exactly how I saw things unfolding, Aimee, but we’ve got to keep moving forward. If we do that we have a chance.”
“Even though I said that the nematodes were only attracted to Mike because of his bleeding, I can’t know that for sure. They’re a species that has been isolated down here for millions of years and I don’t know exactly how they are going to behave. Though none of us are as severely wounded as Mike was, there are other entrances to the human body.” She paused for a moment, looking over her shoulder at the group. “Alex, no one wants to go back in that water. We already know those worms are not top of the food chain and I certainly am not keen to meet any more links in that chain.”
Alex expelled a breath of air between his lips. “Aimee, we’re still a long way from home and things might get even rougher before they get better. I don’t want to go in the water again, but we can’t go back and we’re not dying on this beach, either. I’ll need your help to keep everyone’s spirits up. Despair—that’s our main danger now.”
Aimee gave a weak smile, nodded and went to rejoin the small group. Alex called Takeda in close and also Tank, who still looked morose and withdrawn.
“Lieutenant! Tank, there’ll be plenty of time for giving Mike a proper send-off when we’re on the surface. Right now we need to get these people back into the daylight.” Tank nodded, still not yet trusting himself to speak. “Takeda, give me a forward recon down that beach and report in on what you see. Take Ms. Jennings with you. Tank, you go back to the upstream end of the beach and give me a secure rear perimeter. I don’t want anything else sneaking up on us—report back in T-minus twenty minutes.”
The two remaining HAWCs synchronised their watches with Alex’s then turned and trotted off to their allotted tasks. Alex looked back at the group. Matt, Monica and Aimee were talking and finishing off their chocolate. He knew Aimee would do her bit and keep everyone rallied. A little farther down the beach he noticed Silex staring at him and mumbling to himself. The man was shaking, but Alex didn’t think it was from the cold; more likely stress—that was worse. Alex had seen men in battlefield situations have a full autonomic nervous system collapse and go into seizures; he had also seen them blow their own heads off, as well as those of the people around them. He hoped the man could hold it together. Though he had retrieved many of the medical supplies, he didn’t relish sedating the scientist and having to carry him to the surface. Alex shook his head. Oh boy, could this get any better?
Takeda and Tank came back to report in to Alex at exactly the same time. Takeda had Monica in tow—he nodded to her to proceed with the update.
“OK, about a mile down the beach the tunnel ends at another boulder choke. However, the current is still fairly strong so my guess is the choke is either not solid or long, and then the river continues on straight thereafter.”
“What are you suggesting—a cave dive? We aren’t rigged for that.” Alex knew it would be hard enough getting the team back in the water at all, let alone diving beneath it.
Monica shook her head emphatically. “Not a chance. In normal caving, if you get lost, you sit down, have a chocolate bar and wait to be found. However, in cave diving if you get lost, you run out of air, lose your orientation and drown—I hate cave diving. Normally in a cave when I have clients with me, I demand that no one damages the cave or its surroundings. However, this time I think I’m more than happy to suggest we might be able to get over the top of the chok
e if we dig and dislodge some of the medium-sized rocks.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.” Alex called them all together. “Everyone, Ms. Jennings may have found a way forward. We may have to do some digging and I’d like to think we’ll all lend a hand. Gather your things, we’re moving on.”
“Captain Hunter?” It was Silex, licking his lips and looking more nervous than usual. “Will we have to go back in the water?”
“Maybe, and if not now, then probably later—it’s the fastest way for us to travel and conserves a lot of our energy. Dr. Silex, time is our greatest enemy now and we need to get through these caves as quickly as possible.” Alex was about to turn away, then had a thought and turned back to the group.
“Is anyone bleeding?” Everyone shook their head. “Good, but I’d also suggest that if someone needs to go to the toilet, please do so on dry ground. Though our suits are designed to absorb waste, I notice a few abrasions appearing in the material; so . . .” Alex didn’t need to say anymore. Just the thought of the worms invading where and when a person was most vulnerable made everyone decide to try and squeeze out any last drops of urine before they potentially had to re-enter the stream. They only separated as far as was needed for modesty and Aimee, being the last one in the line, thought she heard something break the water’s surface away in the dark, something that had to be much larger than any invertebrate worm they had encountered.
Within five minutes they were ready to go. The small group walked in silence to the choke, with the only sounds the scrunching squeak of the black sand beneath their feet. Alex and Monica took the lead. As Alex walked along the narrow beach beside her he looked down at his legs which were covered in a black shiny mineral. “What is this stuff?” he asked her. “It’s sticking like glue.”
Monica wiped her finger down her leg and brought it up to roll some between her thumb and forefinger. “Probably magnetite; it’s a mineral that’s crystallised from basaltic magma. Usually where you see it like this it has weathered out of the basalt and has accumulated as sand on beaches. It also indicates prehistoric volcanic activity; never expected it down here though—that and a lot of things. By the way, it’s not sticky, but slightly magnetic—keep it away from your electronics and weapons otherwise it will cause them to lock up.”
