He felt Kara’s body within his grasp, wet and slippery like the rest of them, her whole being pulsating with the beat of her heart. His voice emerged as the voice of someone else—or the voice of a much older Gunther. “That was brave, Kara.”
Something inside him puffed up at the sound of his words. He understood at once why complimenting someone else for his or her accomplishments was more rewarding than hoping someone would compliment you.
Her arms slithered around him, and her hair washed over his neck. “Oh, Gunther, thank you. You saved my life.”
In a frightened voice, Billy said, “We’ve got to get out of here.”
“I thought you were gonna run for that patch of green,” Hood said.
“Next time.” Billy slithered backward, prepared to wriggle back down the way they’d come.
“Wait,” Gunther said.
“Come on, man. We found out what we wanted to know. Let’s get out of here.”
Ignoring Billy, easing his way out of Kara’s grip, Gunther stared ahead, his eyes as accustomed to the dark as they would ever be. The three insects were still leaping and buzzing about, as if raging over the nerve of an outsider who would dare to invade their territory—or furious that their meal had been snatched from their claws. They looked more like shadows than living beings. In the dark, they had an advantage Gunther and his companions did not share.
“We can’t just run back to our prison,” he said. “This is our only escape route. We’ve got to figure out how we’re going to get past these bugs the next time. There has to be a next time.”
“The Tardies are working on a way to get us out,” Billy said.
“Yeah, right,” Hood mumbled.
Feeling an unusual sense of power, Gunther recognized his ability to make Billy look like a fool or to bolster Billy’s flagging self-confidence. “You’re right, Billy. That’s what they said. But do you think they’re telling us the truth?”
“Uh …” Billy mumbled. “Maybe not.”
Focusing again on the insects, Gunther watched their behavior, how they pranced about as if they were the rulers of this space—or at least the royal guardians. He watched how they honed in on his voice, but made no effort to attack. They’d already learned that they could not fit into the entrance of the corkscrew. They were not mere stupid June bugs.
Aware that he would destroy his and his friends’ night vision by what he was about to do, he flicked on his headlamp and shone it around the room. As he’d expected, the insects showed no reaction to the light. Intended as it was for the close-in views of a cave, the headlamp’s beam revealed little about the further reaches of the room than they could already see. Still, the dim light confirmed that the auditorium was bordered around its circumference by a rock wall pocked with grottoes and lined with stalagmite teeth where a person could perhaps crouch in safety. Or where other creatures might be lying in wait. On the far side of the room, the patch of green winked beyond what looked like a long staircase through the rocks.
Flicking the light off, he took a deep breath. The stream rushing to his right might cover any noise he and his companions made, but would also conceal the sound of any other creatures that might be lurking in the shadows. He could barely hear the flapping of the dragonfly’s wings or the scratching of the beetle’s feet on the ground. But if the kids were to escape in the future, he would have to test his ideas here and now.
He laid out his plan to the group. Hood at first disagreed, and Kara appeared frightened. “Just a few minutes,” he assured them. “I’ll keep to the shadows. This may be our only chance to see what lies ahead. If we don’t check it out now …” He left the rest of the thought unspoken.
Reluctantly, Hood and Kara nodded.
“I got your back,” Billy said.
Turning on his headlamp again, Gunther left the safety of the corkscrew for the near part of the auditorium, creeping to a vantage point some seven or eight meters away from where he could see the entire room. To his left, several passages offered access to deeper parts of the cave. Many dark shadows provided places for giant insects or other creatures to hide.
To his right, the auditorium formed a half-circle that was much wider than the half-circle to the left. From somewhere high in the wall, the stream tumbled down a series of rocky steps. Farther around the semicircle, a huge jumble of rocks reached toward the ceiling. In his pathetic light, he could not estimate its height or tell whether a passage might lie behind it. The uppermost rock looked massive, and appeared to teeter on a smaller rock below it.
Aiming the light toward the farthest reaches of the wall, closest to the patch of green, he could see only a few small grottoes where insect-guards might lie in wait—or, conversely, where he and his companions could hide as they made their way around the room toward the escape route.
Although the walk to the right looked more difficult, it also looked safer. With a thumbs-up to his companions, he began inching his way along the wall.
He moved slowly, modulating his breathing so the rasping of his lungs in his ears would not mask any threatening sound from up ahead. Although his feet slid on the floor, and he had to feel his way around stalagmites and dagger-like formations, a hand on the rock wall to his right provided enough support to keep him from falling. As he’d hoped, the insects in the auditorium paid him no attention. They continued to bounce or hover about, as if aware of the presence of invaders in their territory but not able to locate them.
Crossing the stream forced him to wade to his knees in water that felt like thirty-two degrees—although he knew it had to be warmer than that. Without handholds, even with the help of his headlamp, he could not see an easy way to cross. He tried several different paths before deciding on a route that seemed to possess no deep pits but required balancing on a series of loose rocks below the surface. Close to the far side, he slipped and fell, jabbing his shoulder on a rocky outcrop and soaking his clothes. Pulling himself to his feet, he leaped the final meter to the far side. He shivered as he looked around. As he’d expected, the insects had jerked around to face him. The beetle took several steps in his direction, then stopped.
For several minutes he stood as still as he could, only an occasional shiver forcing him to move. When the insects appeared satisfied with the status-quo, he took off his jacket, shirt, and pants and wrung them out before putting them back on again. Walking slowly, with an eye toward the insects, he continued forward, unable to hold back a shiver now and then.
As he’d hoped, a passage of sorts ran behind the tower of rocks. It required climbing up and down a dozen times, slipping and sliding, but it delivered him safely to the far side. From there, he thought he could see a way clear to a corridor that led upward to the patch of green. If they could make it this far, they could make it home.
Rejoicing that he’d found a way out of the cave, he slid down the final promontory with a burst of confidence, only to have his bubble of confidence pop in his face at a patter of footprints from several feet ahead. A series of low-pitched grunts followed, and made him jerk to a stop. In the time it took him to blink, a creature leaped from a crack in the rock and stood in front of him, blocking his way. Instinctively, he pulled backward, tripping over a rock and slamming his right shoulder again on the wall. Blinded by fear, deafened by the sudden roar of his lungs, he ducked into a miniature grotto along the wall. Fumbling for the switch on his headlamp, he flicked it off and stared ahead into the darkness.
With his eyes now unaccustomed to the dark—his night vision destroyed by even the meager light of the headlamp—he could see nothing. Ahead of him, in the direction of the creature, he heard sounds of movement, sounds that reminded him of a bull in an arena, clawing the ground as it prepared to charge the matador. For at least ten minutes, he cowered in the grotto, not daring to move. When at last the clawing ceased, he stuck his head out. Seeing nothing, he flicked on his headlamp. There ahead, blocking his route as sure as a rock fall from an avalanche stoo
d a creature that looked like a giant salamander. About two meters long—over six feet—its color matched that of the rock. A padded tongue darted from its mouth and probed the air. But more important than its tongue was its eyes—they spun around in blind circles beneath their nictitating membranes.
Like the insects of this realm, the salamander was blind. Gunther thought he recognized the species. It looked just like a photo in one of his caving books, but its name would not come to mind. As if it mattered.
With a sigh of relief, he drew himself up to his full height. No longer did he feel the cold of his stream-soaked shirt as he took a step in the salamander’s direction.
The salamander drew to attention. Its snout jerked in his direction, but the creature did not move.
A blur of movement compelled his eyes to the space beyond the salamander, the space between the salamander and the escape route. It had filled with a crowd of amorphous creatures, milling about and crawling over one another, their movements slow and sluggish. Yes, sluggish. For good reason—the creatures were slugs. Fat, gooey, and disgusting, some as long as two or three meters, their tentacles turning like radar beacons at slow speed. Beyond them, the escape route looked to have receded miles and miles away.
Gunther settled back in his alcove. He could not go any farther. At least, he’d learned what he needed to know.
Withdrawing a step at a time, headlight on, he backed away down the passage along which he’d come. When he could no longer see the salamander, he turned around and walked faster. Again he got soaked crossing the stream, and again he stopped to wring out his clothes.
His friends were filled with questions as they welcomed him back into their midst.
Hood’s final statement said it all—“Man, you do have a death wish. And we all like to have died just waiting on you.”
“I’ve found our escape route,” Gunther said. “But we’ll need weapons. There’s at least one giant salamander and an army of slugs.”
“Can do easy, man,” Hood returned. “Need a butcher’s knife? How about a 44-magnum rifle? Just ask your man Houdini here—I keep all my weapons under my bedroll. And young Billy here—his fists are rated lethal weapons on some faraway planet. Ain’t that right, Billy?”
Caught up in the spirit of having achieved their goal, Billy smiled—the first time Gunther had seen him smile since his and June’s arrival. “You got it, Gunth.” He postured as if ready to take on the world. “Turn them bugs loose on me, bro. Two at a time! Four! Ten! They’ll never know what hit them!”
Kara laughed with delight as she fingered her long, wet hair. “You guys never knew it, but when I roll my hair up into a cord like this, it becomes a lethal weapon. In my last life I worked for James Bond. Whipping and strangling are my specialties!”
CHAPTER 14
The group had scarcely returned to camp and Gunther hung his shirt and pants to dry when the tardigrade Gunther recognized as Thomas summoned him and Hood to follow him. So far as Gunther knew, tardigrades did not smile or frown, but something about Thomas gave Gunther an intense feeling of dislike. Unlike Teddy’s, his voice was cold. The flagella from around his mouth and between his body segments moved stiffly, as if encased in concrete. Even the plumbing inside his body seemed to move with reluctance. In Gunther’s mind, he was a constipated, nasty, angry son of a water bear.
Gunther’s feeling of aversion was not helped by the thought of where Thomas might be taking them.
To the baleful glances of the other kids, the two boys followed Thomas across The Swamp, up the trail at the base of the giant stalagmite, to the cathedral-like room where they ate their meals. Here Thomas tapped on the dinner rock, as if transmitting a signal, before continuing into the deeper realms of the cave that the kids had christened “The Catacombs.” Despite his anxiety over what he and Hood might have to face there, Gunther felt a rush of excitement. As far as he could tell, they were entering the think-tank of the cave.
As they stepped into the chamber beyond the cathedral, the light brightened. Here the mucus strands woven by the Arachnocampa luminosa drew closer together, and hundreds of insects flapped in the goo. With their lives easier than those of their cousins in the cathedral area, the glowworms had grown fat and lazy, and they took their time sliding down the strands to eat their prey.
Thomas led them beyond the chamber into the second hallway from the left. At once the light dimmed, with scarcely a half-dozen strands here to light the way. Here Teddy met them, his flagella waving a bit more stiffly than usual, his voice a bit colder than that of the TV Frosty. “Thank you, Thomas. Please follow me, young gentlemen.”
He led the boys some thirty or forty meters into the passageway, and then into an alcove that became a dead-end passage where several beakers bubbled over stoves resembling flat rocks. The stoves dripped filth of blue and yellow and green down the rock. In a far corner Gunther saw an apparatus akin to a giant microscope—a series of lenses, progressively smaller and closer together, that focused on a stage the size of a bar of soap. Beside it sat several metal frames from which hung strings of organic matter. Two of the strings were attached to orbs that looked like human eyes. Gunther thought he could even distinguish a blue iris. The passage reeked of chemicals and some sort of foul matter and, in sharp distinction to the rest of the cave, was hot and dry.
Teddy motioned toward a broad flat rock upon which several students could have sat in comfort while their professor demonstrated some new biomedical procedure. A voice in Gunther’s head told him he was looking at a Tardy on-the-job learning site—or conference room.
“Please, young gentlemen, have a seat,” Teddy said. His voice remained cool and perfectly modulated, and the flagella between his body segments continued to wave as if they’d been stiffened with hair spray. His eyes, rather than focus on the boys, shifted back and forth between the microscope and the alcove entrance. His “head” bobbed up and down as he spoke. Were he human, Gunther would have labeled his emotions as repressed anger and anxiety.
Gunther shared a quick glance with Hood. Hood did not appear concerned with Teddy’s emotions, but the worry in his eyes made Gunther aware of where his own concerns should lie.
Teddy stopped fidgeting at last and the movement of his flagella slowed almost to a stop. From somewhere deep inside him, his voice emerged with exaggerated politeness. For the first time Gunther realized that the outer circle of Teddy’s mouth did not move when he spoke. He had no lips. Inside his mouth, some kind of fleshy material vibrated back and forth with the passage of air.
“I hope you young gentlemen realize that your actions have caused great harm—both to your own cause of trying to get back to your home, as well as to our cause of trying to get you there. We have been negotiating with the Insects for several weeks now, and were close to a breakthrough. The Insect Leaders were on the verge of letting all you humans go. Now you have brought our negotiations back to what you might call Square One.”
As if in afterthought, he added, “And you may be certain the insect-gastropod-amphibian guard near the gate will be doubled.”
Gunther and Hood looked at each other. Was Teddy telling them the truth? Had he and Hood really hurt their own cause? And was there really a gate, an actual structure that might forbid passage?
Or was this a ruse to convince them to give up thoughts of escape and become docile prisoners? Despite Teddy’s heartfelt words, Gunther still believed the Tardies, and not the Insects, called the shots.
Ignoring the look of alarm in Hood’s eyes, he decided not to knuckle under, but to press ahead. “Who are the Insect Leaders?” he asked.
Teddy’s face—if it could be called a face—assumed a look of disbelief at this effrontery. “The Insect Leaders are the masters of this realm. We tardigrades work to carry out their commands. They rely on us to guard our borders and maintain safety within our underground home. In return, they allow us to carry on our experiments unquestioned and live our lives without interferen
ce. And now you have caused us to lose face with our leaders. You have caused our leaders to re-evaluate our ability to carry out our duties. The most important discoveries in centuries may now be compromised.”
Gunther sensed an advantage, and pressed it. “What discoveries have you made?”
The flagella between Teddy’s top and second segments flapped once or twice. “That is not for me to discuss at this moment.”
“What species do your ‘Insect Leaders’ belong to?”
“What species …?” Teddy spluttered. His mastery over his voice nearly faltered. His voice emerged more machine-like than Gunther had ever heard it. “Do you think your human species categories mean anything to us? We have a species name for you, but you would not like it. It is not what you might call complimentary.”
Gunther’s peripheral vision caught the movement of Hood’s body, jerking in warning. But he could not stop now. “Teddy, we mean no harm here. Can we meet with your Insect Leaders and talk to them? Can we negotiate with them ourselves about releasing us?”
Teddy’s flagella started moving faster again, and his body began rolling to and fro. “Young gentleman, you do not understand all that is involved here. Over many centuries the Insects and Tardigrades have evolved together here beneath the surface of what you call Earth. You humans are aware of your own evolution, and you have studied the evolution of the surface-dwelling creatures around you. Yet you never imagine that similar evolutionary changes may be occurring beneath the surface of the earth’s crust. In your smugness, you persist in believing that you know all there is to know about the earth and its creatures.
“You and your friends have invaded a civilization that has been advancing for many human centuries now, since before you and your parents and your grandparents were born. Since before the people you know as Greeks and Hans and Hittites were born. Since before you set up what you call civilizations in the Yellow River Basin or in your Sumerian ‘Cradle of Civilization.’ Since before your early humans left their homes in Africa to spread across the surface of your Earth.”
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