Chromosome Quest- a Hero's Quest Against the Singularity

by Nathan Gregory

  Soon the stone gave way to soft earth and dense vegetation. We struggled with the undergrowth as it became increasingly dense. A pair of good machetes would seem highly desirable, but even if we had such tools, the result would be the same. We soon came to a halt against the impenetrable forest. A crew with strong arms wielding fierce machetes for a month could doubtless penetrate the growth with relative ease.

  We had bare hands and mere hours.

  Reluctantly admitting defeat, we retreated along our path. We needed shelter and soon. I considered again taking to the water in hopes that we might pass the evening hours on the water, that the predators might not find us there. Teena vetoed that idea! Deinonychus swim as do Velociraptors, and the big guy does not need to if the water is even slightly shallow. Well, how was I to know? I am no paleontologist! The middle of the river offers no useful refuge, we all agreed.

  It seems we have no other option than to explore the caves. We assume that nocturnal predators sleep somewhere during the day, and caves seem like good candidates. Perhaps we could appropriate a cave and defend it against the beasts. Challenging, definitely, but our only possible option.

  Retracing our footsteps to the caves we had passed, we cautiously approached the grottos as we eyed the sun in the sky. Our remaining daylight was fast disappearing. We needed a cave with a single portal small enough that we could easily block the opening with rocks, and the cavern itself small enough that we could definitively declare it unoccupied.

  Selecting a suitable candidate opening at random, we entered the cavern slowly, ears attuned for the slightest sound and weapons at the ready. We quickly noticed a strong airflow from deep within the cave, and about fifty feet inside we determined it was much too large to explore successfully, and far too likely to have vermin deeper inside.

  We did note one small chamber inside the cavern that might serve our purpose. It was just large enough that we could huddle inside, the interior space being about the size of a modest interior castle room and it had a single tiny opening through which we could barely crawl. Decidedly claustrophobic! We debated crawling inside and blocking the opening with rocks. After a moment we rejected it as problematical, since being inside the cave and thus sheltered from the sun, the obvious risk was that a beast would smell us and make camp at the entrance trapping us inside until we starved or suffocated.

  Retreating to the out-of-doors, we again assessed the sun's position and moved on to another possible cavern. This one too suffered from being too large, most likely connecting deep underground with the previous cave. We rejected the second cave even more quickly and hastily moved to another candidate without wasting time. The sun was getting very low, and we were almost out of time.

  The third cave was a bust too. It was apparent that all of the caves in this area were interconnected and ran deep underground. Finding one that met all of our requirements was looking unlikely, and we had no time to explore further. Deciding a lousy choice was better than certain death, we raced back to the underground chamber.

  We each grabbed large rocks from the rock-strewn landscape and carried them into the cave. Petch and I quickly ran back outside and collected handfuls of smaller stones and some bits of driftwood. Crawling into the chamber, we blocked the entry as securely as we could manage, chinking the large boulders with smaller rocks, stones and small pieces of driftwood. We hoped the beasts did not sense our presence, as even though the barrier was thick, it would not stand a determined assault by the vermin.

  The sun was almost down, and we were sequestered in total darkness, in a tightly enclosed space, with no ventilation and no way to know what was going on outside. We had no way to know when dawn might come, no way to mark the time. With no ventilation, we risked suffocating as well. Our situation in this underground chamber was dire, but outside would be far worse.

  Initially, I had left one small opening positioned so I could look out into the cavern. We could see reflected sunlight penetrating the outer cavern. The tiny opening would allow us some minor ventilation as well as permit visual and auditory perception of the enormous underground space. Within minutes the slight amount of reflected sunlight disappeared, and moments later we heard faint sounds of creatures stirring within the cavern. I quickly plugged the opening, daring to hope that our presence might go undetected.

  After months of acclimating to the exceedingly hot climate of the planet, the cold, damp darkness of the cavern was uncomfortably chilly at first. With the blockage of airflow, our body heat began to warm the space, and for a time, despite being in total darkness, we became reasonably comfortable. At one point I felt a soft hand on my body. Still tortured over the events of the previous night, guiltily resolving not to let such things happen again, I reached down and took the hand and very quietly whispered a soft “no,” intending that only she might hear. We held hands in the dark, but I permitted no further encroachment. I could feel that my semaphore had risen to half-mast or better, but I steeled myself against any possibility. Marauding predators or no, this cannot be allowed. How I wished otherwise. How can a man endure such torture?

  I do not think we slept. Perhaps we did, but if so, it was fitful and uneasy, and I awoke frequently. Several hours into our enforced entombment I began to be aware that my breathing had deepened. Carbon dioxide was building up in our confined space; suffocation was softly approaching.

  Quietly as possible, I removed a chink from our barrier. A little fresh air intruded, but without cross-ventilation, it was an imperceptible relief. Hearing no sounds and seeing nothing through the hole, I removed another chink from the opposite side. Much better. Still not as effective as real cross ventilation, but some air was flowing. It helped.

  I placed myself against the barrier, ears on high alert for any sign of our monstrous innkeepers. In the quiet, as I concentrated on every tiny sound, I could hear my companions breathing, I could hear the blood pumping in my veins. I could even hear the blood pumping through Teena's veins. Humans rarely experience silence such as this. Nor darkness. My eyes became exquisitely tuned for the faintest ray of sunlight outside. I do not know how long we stayed in this position, myself huddled against our rock barrier, lovingly holding Teena's hand in the darkness, with Petch a few feet away near the far wall. None of us seemed to be sleeping, judging from the breathing sounds, we were all on high alert.

  Hours passed. How many I do not know. Once I heard faintly in the distance the bellow of a Tyrannosaurus. I heard other more violent noises, closer at hand. Apparently, our hosts had found prey. Hopefully, they would all have a successful hunt and come to bed with bellies full, horrible appetites sated for a while, prepared to sleep the day away oblivious to our intrusion into their home.

  Finally, I perceived rather than saw a faint lightening of the space beyond our rocks. From the outside, I heard the tell-tale sounds of movement. As quickly and quietly as I could, I replaced those chinks. It was positively hot in the chamber now, but hot confinement in underground stone was preferable to the same in a beast's belly. I'll take stone any day.

  I continued to listen at our rocky portal trying to sense when the beasts had settled for the day. Finally, I risked a peek outside. Carefully removing a chink, I could see hints of bright sunlight intruding into the entrance of the cave. I listened intently for several minutes.

  Deciding that the beasts had settled, I slowly, quietly began dismantling our barrier. Placing one boulder so that Teena and Petch could quickly drive it back into the opening if need be, I cautioned them to do so if necessary, even if it meant stranding me on the other side. Precautions taken, I grabbed my weapon and crawled out into the cavern.

  Moving slowly, ears on swivels and letting my eyes adjust carefully, I crawled into the cavern and stood, The Lady Seven nocked up. Daylight streamed in through the entrance, and there was no sign of our carnivorous hosts. Evidently, they make their home much deeper inside the caverns. After carefully surveying our surroundings I whispered to Petchy and Teena to come on out. Moments
later we stood on the rocky bluff in the bright morning sunshine, the only known humans to have ever survived a night outside a castle on this reptile cursed planet. Not something I was eager to attempt anew, nor an experience I would recommend to others.

  Taking a few deep breaths while shuddering in relief at surviving the night, I signaled my companions. What next? Traveling overland seems ill-advised given the thickness of the forest. We decided that our best approach was to return to the pirogue, and if it too had survived the night, we would best be served by taking once again to the water and making our best progress upstream against the current and hope to discover where we had missed our landing. It would take some time, but we had a whole day to correct our error.

  Our pirogue was indeed intact, though not precisely where we had left it. The beasts, or possibly a storm had moved it nearly two hundred feet from where we had abandoned it. Our cargo was intact, but we had no food. Today would be a hungry day.

  I was already hungry. I felt a tizzy of light-headedness as we took to the water and felt my stomach writhing in protest at the motion. I still had my weapon. We could, I suppose, take the time to kill a deer, or even one of those beautifully colorful squirrels, make a fire and eat. However, that would take time, time which we did not have.

  Hunting was just not on our schedule. We dared not attempt to survive another night as we had. We had been incredibly lucky to endure such a misstep once. We must find our castle first, then eat. If we don't reach our destination, eating will be irrelevant.

  The fierce flow of the day before had abated significantly, the river was back to near normal and by sticking close to the shore and avoiding the strong current in the center paddling upstream was sluggish, but not too difficult.

  Even so, a distance that had taken us less than an hour downstream in yesterdays strong current took us over four hours to traverse in the reverse direction. We suspected we must be close to our target, but could not spot any sign of the trail, nor any marker. It is astounding how much one spot of unmanicured forest looks like any other in the absence of distinctive landmarks.

  We were debating landing our craft and exploring on foot in hopes of discovering a trail. If we did not find our target soon, we again faced the same quandary we had faced yesterday, only now weak with hunger. Retreating to the caves for another night was an unthinkable option, but unless we soon found our target, we might have to start thinking it.

  Just as we were debating the dire choice, suddenly Teena let out a yell and started waving at the shore. There to welcome us was a gathering of our newest furry friends, the most welcome sight we could have imagined.

  We quickly paddled ashore and were enthusiastically swamped by friendly fur folk. It was good to be back on land, and among friends.

  Our hosts had some worries that we might overshoot the destination landing and had gathered the first afternoon to watch for us, lest we glide by without spotting the landing. They had feared the worst when we did not appear that day but had correctly guessed that we possibly might have spent the night in the Dark Castle. They had gathered again yesterday, but somehow we had missed them. We later concluded that we had passed by the landing spot just minutes before they had gathered to greet us, thanks to the powerful current carrying us along faster than anyone had anticipated.

  Fearful of the worst, yet hopeful we would yet appear, they had gathered again today, just in time to aid our landing. They had just walked to the shore and were almost instantly overjoyed to see our pirogue on the water. Five minutes earlier and we may well have missed the landing again.

  They greeted our tale of spending the night deep in the belly of the beast's cave with stark incredulity. I suspect they did not believe us, preferring to think we had survived via some unknown, mystical method known only to smoothies, rather than accept our improbable tale at face value. They virtually refused even to discuss it.

  We explained to them what had happened to the inhabitants of the Dark Castle and they were appropriately horrified. There was a lot of chatter about the necessity of being safely inside before the lizards came out. They were speculating as to whether the inhabitants had, in fact, opened the door after sundown, or whether possibly a lizard had ventured out to hunt at an unusually early time, catching them off guard before sunset.

  They talked about this for hours and the next day we overheard them talking about routinely closing the doors earlier than usual as a precaution. We surmised that they were going to be a lot more vigilant in the future, lest the same fate come their way. Vigilance is good. Of course, there was no way to know what, in fact, happened, whether a lizard had appeared and invaded the castle before sunset, or the inhabitants had foolishly opened the door after sundown.

  They were glad to hear that the castle was intact and now safe, and could be occupied again, and were soon making plans to contact other families and organize a group to clean and repair the fortress. I thought that was a good idea since if we succeed in our mission and the population rebounds, they will need the living space. Many such abandoned castles had fallen into ruin and were now uninhabitable, so rescuing and preserving one safe harbor from that fate seemed like a clear win. We only hope they do need it someday.

  I wondered again about the origins of the castles. From all I could see, the structures dated into antiquity. One must wonder, which came first, the castle or the T-Rex. Without the safe refuge of a castle, early humans would not have been able to escape the ravages of the big lizards, and without a threat of that nature, humans would have had little incentive to create such structures. Further, the castles would take years and years to build, and the labor of hundreds, if not thousands. Carrying on such a project with active dinosaurs in the area and no other safe refuge seemed questionable. I wondered if the castles had been built originally for different reasons and T-Rex was a relatively late arrival.

  I asked Petch and Teena about this. They agreed that there was a serious possibility that the big lizards had arrived via a portal sometime after humanity had begun building castles. The fact that there were so few lizard species argued they had potentially developed elsewhere. Despite the reasonableness of the theory, no one knew. Perhaps after we succeed in our mission, genuine scientists will find the subject worth studying.

  After being thoroughly greeted by the group, we all headed for the castle where we partied, dined and entertained similarly to that at all the other fortresses we had visited. The ladies especially loved the bawdy rendition of Barnacle Bill, shouting and pounding the table. Macbeth, Clementine and Barnacle Bill and they were demanding more, another encore. Complying, I gave them a few especially bawdy limericks as a final encore.

  There was a young lady named Lou

  who said as the parson withdrew--

  "Now the Vicar is quicker,

  And thicker, and slicker,

  And two inches longer than you.

  That was a cute little rhyme

  Sing us another one, do—oo--

  Here's to old king Montazuma

  For fun he buggered a puma

  The puma one day

  Bit both balls away

  An example of animal humor.

  That was a cute little rhyme

  Sing us another one, do—oo--

  There was a young gal name of Sally

  Who loved an occasional dally.

  She sat on the lap

  Of a well-endowed chap

  Crying, "Gee, your ****k

  is right up my alley!"

  On and on it went until, out of ideas, bereft of rhymes, the girls let me bow for the very last time. Retire for the evening you think, I know, straight to bed, both yes and no, you conceive. Abed I did go, but rest was so, elusive.

  While I was busily fulfilling my chromosomal commitment to the nubile daughters of the clan, I found myself wondering what Teena was doing, how she was spending the evening.

  Great Run

  The next several segments went smoothly. After our serial near-death experi
ences in the Dark Castle and the dinosaur caves, we encountered a string of easy runs, several of no more than ten or twelve miles. We were owed a break! Of course we paid for our food and shelter in the usual manner but even so, the short runs gave us time for plenty of needed rest, and even with my chromosome commitment I found myself getting plenty of sleep. Two different nights, after I had discharged my duties, Teena came silently to my bed, exacerbating my internal conflict. I tried to ask her about possible objections on the part of Petch. For all I knew, they might be married. I was forced to confront the reality that I knew nothing whatever of this strange couple. I knew little enough about Petch, even less about her. She dismissed my concern without comment and declined to reveal anything that would salve my tortured conscience.

  Mostly we just cuddled, but not only. Still, I tried to reserve my seed for where it was needed. I could tell that what she needed fell into a different category. In these moments, she seemed to bear the weight of the world.

  Maybe she did. Or rather, more like the weight of the Universe.

  In any case, Teena had admitted she was not fertile, so I focused on giving her comfort and release, and did not particularly care about my own. I wasn't exactly lacking. We had visited a great many castles and families therein, scattering my boon freely all the way. Hopefully, there would soon be lots of new, fertile babies on our Planet Oz. Even if that is true, Petchy had darkly claimed that in the long run, it would make no difference. My gametes would provide but a brief respite in their spiral toward oblivion.

  Finally, we approached the end of our journey. We faced one more gargantuan run, our longest yet, nearly sixty-five miles which would bring us to the castle closest to the portal. None too soon, as it seems. We had three days before the gateway opened.