And immediately below them? The mountain just … drops away. Ana smiles.
“How …” Following the direction of Ana’s gaze, apparently, Ysa says with a quavering voice, “How are we going to get down that?”
Ana snaps into take-charge mode; something about the mountain face draws it right out of her. She reaches behind her to pat the side of her pack. “We’ll be fine right here. We’ve got all we need and more,” she says.
“We’ll be using ropes, I guess,” Todd says. He’s already shrugging off his backpack, opening it up and looking for gear.
“Third pocket from the bottom left. There’s at least one compression block in there,” Ana says, distracted. There’s a faint flicker in her middle and she’s cupping both hands around it to keep it going and growing; she doesn’t know exactly what it means but she knows that it’s all her and it’s all good. And anything remotely good right now has to be grabbed hold of with both hands.
Todd finds the brown rectangular lump of compressed rope and tosses it to her, then shuffles around in the pack a little more. “There’s only one—though I guess we’ve each got one if we need more.”
“This should be plenty,” Ana says, picking at the opener tab. “It makes, what, fifty feet of rope? A hundred?”
“Ninety-five,” Ysa says.
Todd buckles his pack shut again as Ysa eyeballs the drop. “It’ll be enough,” she says with a shudder. “The length, anyway.”
The tab finally gives and Ana tugs at the bristle of rope sticking out. She pulls on it until she has enough rope to wind around her hand. Then she closes her fingers around the coil, holds it tight, and gives the compression block a good strong shake.
With a gentle pfft,, folds of rope start blooming out of the postcard-sized block, changing its shape like a sponge filling with water. In seconds a scattered coil of rope is lying at their feet.
Todd picks up the end and studies it. He nods approvingly. “It’s the good stuff,” he says. “No knockoffs for these planetary explorers.”
“You have the anchor?” Ana asks.
He nods and tosses her a flat shiny disk, which she catches in her free hand. She studies the rocks around her and finds a smooth, flat area with no cracks or crumbling bits. She runs her hand along it to check for soft spots. Finding none, she puts a hand on either side of the anchor and breaks it neatly in half.
“Have you used one of these before?” she calls over her shoulder.
“Sure,” Ysa says, but there’s a wobble in her voice.
Ana doesn’t need to wonder if she herself has used one. A series of flashes goes off inside her head: rocks and cliffs and clean, biting air; muscles straining; adrenaline pumping; hands red with rope burn; the feeling of power and mastery painting every dull edge bright.
Ana smiles. Bring it.
Slipping one half of the anchor into a pocket, she slaps the flat edge of the other half onto the rock. Even before it makes contact, she registers the strong, almost magnetic pull between the rock and the anchor. She tugs on the anchor once it’s set; it doesn’t budge. It’s as if it were growing out of the rock. Good. The bond is strong.
These movements are more than memory; they’re rich with the feelings she had when she first saw the mountain. This is knowledge. It’s hardwired inside her.
“You want me to take the first swing down?” Todd asks.
“Go ahead,” Ana says, sliding the loop of rope off her hand and pressing it around the anchor. She tucks the edges in until they disappear behind the black half-disk, then places her palm flat on the anchor and pushes down until the metal warms.
“Did it seal?” Todd asks. There’s a tremor in his voice. This descent seems to be putting him and Ysa out of their element. Ana feels like she’s just finding hers.
“Yes. It’s all set.”
He nods and moves into position on the ledge. Leaning down, he presses an indentation on the side of each of his boots, and climbing spikes spring out from the toe and the bottom. There’s a second’s pause as he circles the rope around his waist. Any hesitation Ana might have sensed disappears as Todd starts down without so much as a nod of farewell.
And why should he? It’s just a mountain descent.
Just scaling down a mountain face on the far side of the universe.
Ana squats next to the cliff edge and watches as Todd rappels down, getting smaller and smaller. A few minutes later, he lands safely on a wide ledge.
“Come on!” he calls up.
Ana turns to Ysa. “You’re next,” she says. She can’t wait until Ysa gets herself over the side and down the mountain, because suddenly it’s like nothing exists but Ana and this climb, and every moment separating her from it passes with agonizing slowness.
Ysa takes considerably longer than Todd, or maybe it just seems that way, but finally it’s Ana’s turn. She checks to make sure the rope is still secure, then loops it around her waist. She pops out her own spikes and kicks her boots against the rock, hears the satisfying clink that will steady her on the way down the rock face.
This is it!
The second she launches over the side, though, she is jerked back to reality. Whatever her muscles used to be, whatever they are in her head, real life is a little different. The rope hugs her close and she has a strong grip on either side, but—oh, her shoulder is on fire. Her body pulses with pain as every bruise and injured muscle from her journey so far flares to life. Feeling fine while walking is apparently not the same as rappelling down a mountain face.
It takes all her effort to keep her breathing level and measured, to keep her hands sliding along the rope and her feet moving down the rock wall.
Still, the rush of the measured drop is glorious. It echoes the thrum of her heart, the pounding in her ears. It’s freefall, it’s the wind tossing her like a plaything, it’s stamp and push and strain and release and flow. It’s freedom. It’s ninety seconds of pure adrenaline heaven.
And then she’s on the ledge, collapsing in a heap as Todd takes the call part of the anchor from her and wraps it in the end of the rope, sending the release charge traveling up to the other end. The whole thing comes tumbling down around them.
She shuts her eyes for a moment, replaying the experience in her mind, loving just being here. “This is what I am made of,” she whispers to herself. Whatever this is, it’s inside her, whether she’s aware of it or not.
This is me.
THIRTEEN
00:05:40:36
After the mountain’s sheer drop-off from the summit, the rest of the descent seems tame by comparison. Mount Fahr rolls out its smoothest inclines and puts plenty of footholds in their path, as if they’ve passed some test and can now settle into the easy stuff. In less than two hours they are down the slope and crossing the last grassy stretch before they get to the dunes that link the mountains and the sea.
In a strange way it’s hard to move on, and Ana can’t help sneaking a look behind her, reveling in the sense of power and mastery she found on that rocky slope. Another part of herself reclaimed … in spite of the mountain’s nearly unbearable price.
She recoils from that train of thought. The only thing they can do is keep going—three now instead of four, but still moving forward.
Ahead of them lie the rolling purple-blue sand dunes. Ana’s about to pull up her map to calculate the distance, but Todd has already activated his, lining it up against the horizon.
“There can’t be more than a couple hours to go once we hit the dunes,” he says, and she sees him frown at the circlet.
The plan is to chart a course directly across the sand at its shortest possible point, then head down the coast for a half mile or so to reach the end, the goal, the big red X on the map.
With renewed energy, they set off across the last sloping stretch of land toward the dunes. The ground is scrubby with undergrowth and dotted with rough boulders. Ysa walks hunched over, like she’s carrying a physical weight. She’s hardly spoken a word in the last hour.
Every time Ana looks in her direction, Ysa starts to catch Ana’s eye, as if the other girl is wrestling with herself, trying to decide if there’s something she wants to say. But she never quite comes out with it, and Ana can’t bring herself to press her.
As they trudge on, Ana can’t stop thinking about the look on Chen’s face as he fought for his life on the ledge. Even taking into account the horror of the moment and all that came with it, there was something eerie, something significant about his struggle, which Ana can’t quite put her finger on.
Because the bottom line is that Chen didn’t have to die. He wasn’t killed by the fall, or the lava, or any kind of accident or twist of fate. At some point, paralyzed by his fear, lost in whatever twisted vision held him, he chose that fate. He was so terrified … and then he wasn’t anymore. It’s not giving up, just letting go, he’d said. But why would he do that? What is she missing?
There’s the worm to think about, too. They haven’t seen slime nor scale of it since taking refuge in the caves. Ana can’t really believe it’s gone for good, though the more time passes, the more some part of her starts, tentatively, to hope.
“I wonder if there’s more than one of those worms,” Todd says, as if reading her mind.
“I don’t think so,” Ana says. “And honestly, something about it just doesn’t make sense. There’s no animal life on this planet. What does it eat? How does it survive?”
Todd shakes his head. “Maybe plants? Something in the soil?”
Behind them, Ysa scoffs. “Those rows of teeth weren’t made for eating plants,” she says.
Ana nods. “Exactly. Todd, you said there was evidence that kind of creature existed in prehistoric times. And yet now here it is, back from extinction or something.”
“Or something,” Todd mutters.
“Well, what’s it doing here now?” Ana says. “Plus it wasn’t visible on the planet scans. Those letters we found before we left the rocket. They asked us to keep our eyes peeled for things that are out of the ordinary. The worm is a pretty good candidate, don’t you think?”
“I’ll say,” Ysa hisses, and Ana is shocked at the bitterness in her voice. “This whole trek pretty much fits the bill for ‘out of the ordinary,’ wouldn’t you say, Todd? Does that make it a success?”
“We just need to ride this out, Ysa,” Todd says levelly. “Don’t forget the countdown—there’s not much time left.”
Ana shivers. Not quite four hours … but that should be plenty, right? The suns are both high in the tangerine sky by now, so much closer together than the last time she looked. And the sand dunes are just ahead—one more gentle slope to go, and then they’re practically there.
“Yeah, because everything else on this trip has gone so smoothly.” Ysa snorts.
Ignoring her, Todd says, “The worm is out of the ordinary in more ways than one.” He circles wide to go around a boulder, then falls back in line next to Ana. “That time in front of the cave, after I fell … I don’t know. I looked up at that monster and suddenly it was like I didn’t even care that I was in danger. I should have been running for my life, but I couldn’t even move. Didn’t want to.”
“It’s like that every time the worm appears, isn’t it?” Ana says. “When it gets close enough or we look directly at it.” Ana thinks back to that moment when she knocked Todd aside—she, too, had been frozen in front of the worm, mesmerized by its blank, bottomless eyes and oddly sweet breath. She must have looked just like the others did when the worm first appeared at the base of the mountain—glazed eyes, mouth hanging open. Empty. Disconnected.
Something drops into place in Ana’s mind.
That trance-like stare, zoning out and being incapable of motion—that’s not just something that happens when the worm is around. That also describes exactly the way Todd nearly got trapped in the Dead Forest, and the way Chen lost his life in the lava pit. The only difference is that their mind screens weren’t blank or empty—they were experiencing some kind of hallucinations, horrible memories or nightmares or something.
“I don’t know,” Ana mutters. “There’s some connection with the worm, but I just can’t figure out what it is.” After all, the worm hadn’t been anywhere nearby in the Dead Forest, or on the summit of Mount Fahr. Still. There’s no way that could be a coincidence. It’s like peace, Chen said. That describes the worm’s lure exactly. What does it all mean?
“And here we are,” Ysa suddenly says. “Meet the purple sand dunes. Can you think of any worse terrain to cross?”
The landscape before them is, more than anything else, flat. It stretches out in every direction, sometimes rising gradually into low dunes, and looking for all the world like a dark sandy ocean. The sunslight paints the dunes a deep purple, like liquid twilight, a sharp contrast to the bright sky.
“A few things before we head out,” Todd says, grabbing Ana’s arm. “It’s not exactly quicksand, but …”
“Not exactly?” Ana freezes in place, gazing down at the oddly molten-looking surface. “What does that mean?”
“The sands here are unstable,” Todd says. “But it’s not dangerous. The basin’s no farther down than a foot or two, at its deepest. But it’s the devil to get loose if you start sinking. So you’ve just got to keep your steps light. Like this.”
Todd takes a slow-motion step onto the surface, his foot settling onto the sand in a smooth arc. “Feet down flat, see?” he says. “First one, then the other, one clean movement. No pointed toes, no heels, and make sure your weight is centered. As smooth and even as you can. Keep it like this, and you might as well be walking on solid ground.”
His movements are something between a robot and a tightrope walker, achingly slow and symmetrical. Ana remembers the thrill of ownership she felt when tackling the mountain; this is obviously Todd’s element, as that was hers.
“Just watch out for sudden movements,” Ysa says from up ahead. For all her earlier distaste, she is navigating the terrain like a pro. “I hate sand on principle, but I’ve never had any trouble with this one.”
Ana struggles to keep her face neutral, hoping not to show how creeped out she is by this. Then again, her whole world seems to be made of quicksand today, wide and vast and unrecognizable, filled with lurking dangers just waiting to tug her under.
No. Not under; not here, anyway.
Truthfully, it doesn’t look too hard, and Ana would rather look idiotic than end up stuck in some kind of sand trap, shallow or not. Flinging her arms out wide, she puts her weight first on one leg, then the other. The sand under her feet is firm but supple, like walking on a giant water balloon. It takes some concentration at first, but it isn’t long before she gets the hang of it, striding along in robot tightrope walker–fashion next to Todd, with Ysa leading the way between the dunes.
“The weird purple color comes from the volcanic rock, or maybe powdered lava,” Ysa says, slowing her pace to walk alongside Ana and Todd. “No one knows for sure. Some people think there are deposits of precious stones at the bottom that are ground up by the constant movement of the sand. They think that’s where it gets its bluish tinge.”
“How long have you been here?” Ana says softly.
“Way too long,” Ysa snaps.
After a while the sameness of the landscape starts to wear on Ana, and it’s increasingly hard to keep from getting disoriented. Pulling up the map, she finds a point in the distance, a hilly outcropping, and fixes her eyes on that spot. She should probably leave the map up, but the texture of the sand alone is making her a little nauseated. A jostling electronic display would push her all the way over the edge.
She sneaks a glance at Todd, but all his attention is on the sand as he moves into the lead with smooth, easy strides. He’s obviously not worried, or at least he isn’t showing it.
Ana picks up her pace, speeding up even as Ysa seems to be slowing down.
“Good technique,” Todd says, half-glancing over his shoulder to flash Ana a grin. “You’re as smooth as butt
er.”
For some reason this makes her heartbeat quicken, and she feels her cheeks heat up. Focus, Ana. She keeps her eyes on the midnight-colored sand. Swish, lean, step. Swish, lean, step.
“This isn’t so bad,” she says.
Glancing down, something catches her eye. Her boots’ soles have softened and expanded, even curling up around her feet a little, like tiny surfboards. She had expected the climbing spikes, but this adaptation catches her by surprise.
“Sandshoes,” she says. She wonders if the boots can adapt themselves to any surface, or if the shoe designers anticipated these obstacles in particular. For some reason, a cold shiver runs down her spine.
Todd is way ahead by now. Glancing back, Ana sees that Ysa is a full twenty feet behind and standing completely still. She can’t quite tell from this distance, but it looks as if the other girl is crying.
“Hey!” Ana calls to her. “Are you all right?”
Ysa nods and moves forward in increasingly jerky steps. “Go on, I’m fine.”
“I can wait,” Ana says, shifting to balance her body weight as she faces backward.
“Hey, what’s up?” Todd calls out.
Ysa’s face is a mask. She looks like a person hanging at the edge of a precipice, fighting with everything she has just to hold on for another second. Then something in her eyes changes.
She goes over the edge.
Ana sees it happen, watches Ysa’s eyes glaze all the way over, and with a horrible certainty Ana knows what’s going to happen next. Ysa’s breath starts coming in quick gasps and a light beading of sweat starts on her face. She stumbles, takes a jerky step, and the toe of her boot plunges down into the sand. Almost instantly, Ysa starts to sink.
Moving smoothly and steadily, Ana heads back for the other girl, practicing at speed the motions she was inching through only moments ago. “Hold on!” She pants. “Don’t move!”
Paradox Page 9
