by Adam Carter
The journey down the mountainside was difficult. He knew if he followed the path back to the plains he would be able to find the route Garrel had taken, but there were so many ways to go he knew he could well be searching for days and still not find the correct path. While he had the bike in sight he was going to take as direct a route as he possibly could, and if that meant scaling treacherous declines then so be it. Climbing equipment would have been nice, but, to consider things in a positive light, it wasn’t as though he was actually climbing anywhere.
He had been descending for perhaps ten minutes before his foot slipped on the mud, the root he had balanced himself upon giving way. Allen clutched frantically at the sides of the incline but there was nothing he could do to stop himself from tumbling. His body scraped along the sides and he felt a dozen rocks slam into him as he careened down the mountainside. He ended in an explosion of pain which winded him with an audible gasp as his back struck against a particularly sharp rock. But he had stopped moving, even though his brain was still sloshing in his skull. Closing his eyes, he focused his attention and tried to recapture his breathing.
Opening his eyes once more, he tested his limbs and found them sore but not broken. Assessing his injuries, he found various scrapes and cuts, great tears in his clothes, but nothing which would not heal. Slowly he returned to his feet and looked about himself. He could see how far he had fallen and counted himself extremely fortunate not to have killed himself, so to have walked away without even a broken bone amazed him. At the rise of the mountain down which he had tumbled Allen could just see the swirling gas of Jupiter peering down at him, as though taking the credit for his miraculous escape.
On the plus side, he had descended another half hour’s journey in just a few minutes.
He could see he was closer to the bike now, but still some way from it. Taking a moment to rest, Allen looked over what he could make out of the bike, trying from his aerial viewpoint to piece together what had happened. The bike lay on its side and there was a massive blue smear across the ground to indicate where it had fallen and scraped along the floor. The handlebars were dangerously close to the edge of the cliff, which would indicate Garrel had fallen into the torrent below. If that had indeed been what happened, Allen knew her chances of survival were slim, but he would not give up hope until he had exhausted all possibilities.
Unfortunately he knew there was little chance of ever finding her body. Even if it had not been consumed by some prehistoric beast, it would be buried under tonnes of silt and mud. However, he did not stop to think about how long he was going to search for her. The instant he even considered giving up the search was the moment she was lost forever, and he was not about to accept that as a possibility.
He worked his way down to the bike as quickly as he could, but after his last slip was warier in every step he took. He knew Garrel’s best chance of surviving was if he hurried, but if he slipped and broke his neck he would not be doing her any good at all. After a painful eternity he finally set foot on the rocky path which also contained the bike, and moved across to assess the situation.
There was no blood on the bike that he could see, which meant Garrel had not been torn from the vehicle by any of the local animals. That was something at least, but he knew the storm was far more powerful than any of the animals could ever hope to be. He tested the bike and found it was still in good working order. The fuel line was not severed, and he tried the engine and found it grunted into life in a satisfactory manner. There was no sign of the helmet, which meant Garrel would have been wearing it at the time of her plummet, which was small consolation for him, but he was willing to take every small victory as it came.
Peering down into the thick, dirty water of the river, Allen could see no hope for Garrel at all.
“Sara!”
His voice echoed throughout the valley, yet as he listened to it die away he received no answering cry. Wherever Sara Garrel was, she was gone.
Climbing onto the bike, Allen decided the only thing he could do was follow the direction of the river. With any luck it might have spewed her out somewhere along the way and he would find her lying on the rocks somewhere. It was all he had to work with, and so he rode slowly, one eye always upon the river.
The river continued in more or less a straight line and Allen followed it relentlessly. While he was moving he was content, yet he knew he would not be happy until he found Garrel alive and well.
He continued driving until he lost the river from sight. It continued to rage, but passed through the very rock and likely continued underground. That the water was going somewhere meant it had to lead to a cavern of some form, so there was at least a chance for Garrel to still be alive. Short of leaping into the river after her, however, he could think of no means by which to find her.
Then he noticed a huge crack in the ground a little further along and he sped towards it with hope surging through his breast. Dismounting, he worked his way carefully to the crack and peered down. He could see very little, but the light of the river glinted back up to him and he knew he had found at least a portion of where it had come out. He called Garrel’s name once more, although again was met only with silence. If she was down there, she was unconscious; and if she was wasn’t conscious she was most likely dead.
Unable to continue his search, Allen realised his self-claimed mission of not stopping until he found her was flawed by the fact that he could do nothing about rescuing her. Heroics were a fine thing, but if he lacked the equipment to proceed it did not matter what he would risk to save her life. Only climbing equipment would help him here, and he had to be man enough to admit he could not search indefinitely without it.
He thought about the camp, about what they had stored there. Garrel had insisted on bringing all manner of equipment, and there was even more on their craft they had never even unpacked. Garrel liked to plan for every eventuality, and he could not see that she would have omitted something as simple as a rope.
Getting back on his bike, Allen headed back for the camp, hoping his selfish machismo had not endangered Garrel’s life.
Hitting the open fields, Allen coaxed as much speed as he could from the bike. Before coming to Ceres he had never ridden a motorbike, but Garrel had insisted he learn how to properly use all the equipment, and this included all the vehicles. At the time he could not think how he would ever get the opportunity to ride the bike anywhere, considering Professor Travers had him examining all their finds at every opportunity; but now Garrel’s life was at stake he was glad he had listened to her training.
Shooting across the plains, he was pleased to see the woodland coming into view. Thus far he had seen no sign of Monroe and had expected to catch up to him along the way, but felt perhaps he had spent more time searching for Garrel than he had realised. It was the equipment he needed anyway, not Monroe, and while his anger for the faux-archaeologist had staved off somewhat he was still more than willing to have a few cross words with the man.
Allen caught sight of movement at the edge of the woodland and feared it was another ankylosaur. But as he neared it he could see this was nothing like it at all. The long, lithe predator was eight metres long and stood twice the height of a human being. As with most large dinosaur carnivores, its body was a horizontal bullet supported by two incredibly powerful legs. Two strangely lengthy arms protruded from the fore of the creature, and indeed he could see that all four of its limbs were oddly long and thin. He was under no illusions that this made the creature less of a threat: what it might lack in raw strength he knew it would make up for in speed.
The creature seemed to be sniffing around something on the ground, a carcass perhaps, and upon seeing Allen approaching on his motorbike it raised its great razor-filled snout in the air on a thick and sinewy neck. Its tail, again quite thin for a theropod of its size, whipped lazily behind it, and Allen noted it made up for over half the creature’s length.
He knew what this creature was, but only because Garrel had m
ade him study some of the animals she knew were definitely in the vicinity of their encampment; just the carnivores – she didn’t care anything for the herbivores. The dinosaur was known as a deltadromeus, and while not as large or as powerful as some of its kin, it was certainly one of the fastest. He remembered Garrel impressing upon him that the jaws of the deltadromeus were not built for snapping through bone, yet as he drew near to the creature he knew he had no desire at all to put that knowledge to the test.
Allen drew his bike to a stop around fifty metres from the beast. The pathway skirting the woodland was not very wide, perhaps only thirty metres or so, and if he went too far out it would mean taking the bike over terrain they knew was uncertain and unstable. It would not do for him to lose the bike in a pothole or a hidden bog. But riding straight past the dinosaur was also not a very clever option. Desperately Allen tried to think of an alternative, and the only other thing he could think of doing was waiting until the carnivore had moved off. But, if that was indeed a kill it had its snout in, the beast could well stay here for hours.
Sara Garrel did not have hours.
Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Allen gunned the engine and focused his full attention upon the deltadromeus. All he had to do was get past it and not look back. He had bad memories of the triceratops overturning the buggy, but that had been a buggy: the bike was much faster. But then so was the deltadromeus.
Before he could talk himself out of it, Allen revved the engine and shot forward. He would not attack the dinosaur directly, but pass by it within ten metres or so. Hopefully it would watch him but not give chase. As he neared the creature he noticed it watching him curiously, but making no move to intercept him. He felt if he could just pass the animal he would be back at the camp within half an hour.
And then he was passing the creature, so close he could see the blood upon its snout and teeth where it was devouring its kill. He held his breath as the bike passed the animal, and he watched that maw part slightly as though to shout obscenities after him.
“Allen!” the dinosaur shouted in the voice of Sara Garrel. “Allen, you hear me?”
His heart thumped, his hand jerked in shock, and the bike tore away from under him. It shot ahead, bouncing several times before sliding to a halt, and Allen felt the ground strike him several times as he bounded along, collecting bruises and scrapes all the way. He at last stopped rolling and struggled to rise. Pain was shooting down his leg, but he knew even if it was broken he could not afford to lie there. The deltadromeus was watching him now, its attention no longer upon its kill. It had even taken two steps towards him. The distance between Allen and the dinosaur was around forty metres now, but he knew the creature could close that gap within seconds.
He heard no more of Garrel’s plaintive voice.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Tom Allen saved her life.
It was not something Garrel had ever thought she would admit, yet it was also true. As she dragged herself onto the dark shore she collapsed upon her back and regained her breath. Since coming to Ceres she had encountered all manner of creatures, although the thing in the water had been by far the most frightening. Even when she had faced that ankylosaur in the woodland she had not been so terrified; but then the water was the natural element for whatever the beast was she had just killed. And she had managed to kill it solely because of Tom Allen.
When she had taken his hunting knife from him in the woodland she had tucked it into her own belt and given it no further thought. But as the great blubbery mass of scale and flesh descended upon her she had instinctively lashed out with whatever came to hand, and that just happened to be the young man’s knife. The creature had likely been used to preying on fish which did not bite back, so its attack upon Garrel had been somewhat lazy. As she sunk her knife into its head, however, the creature had thrashed in unknown pain, allowing Garrel the opportunity to stab it in what likely passed for its gut. The creature had ceased trying to kill her at that point and Garrel had kicked away, clambering onto the shore where she now lay.
Her breathing quickly returned to something approaching normal, although while she was trapped in this underground cavern she would not consider anything normal. She forced herself to think, though, for she knew that there was no problem which could not be solved without setting enough mental energy to the task. She knew she was trapped here for the moment, but she knew also that was not necessarily a death sentence. There were fish in the lake and other things preying upon them. She had seen more than one of the things on the shore, even though she could see nothing of them now through the darkness, and so much life had to endure somehow.
Having survived the water, Garrel’s priority now was assessing her surroundings. From there she could try to find a way back to the surface, but not before she had taken into account everything of potential use. What she needed was light, but if she had brought a torch along with her it was long gone. Now she had the time, she tried to work out why she could see at all. She could see nothing of the ceiling so there could not have been any cracks in it, yet she could see the black shimmering surface of the lake, and also her hand if she held it before her face. She had heard of bioluminescent moss or lichen, but never outside of fiction. There was so much about Ceres no one understood, and perhaps such things did exist down here. Whatever the cause, she could see, and that was all she should have cared about. If she began analysing everything she happened upon she would turn into Professor Travers.
Moving away from the shore, Garrel held her hands out before her in case she bumped into a wall, and after only half a minute of walking did she come across something. By the feel of it, it was certainly rock, although there were grooves upon it which denoted that it had been hewn by something other than water. Crouching, Garrel stared at it as much as she could, slowly running her hands across its surface. It seemed to be formed of three separate rocks, all cut evenly and piled atop one another to stand a metre from the ground. It was likely a marker of some form, although what it could be marking she had no idea.
Moving around the stone, she felt her foot come into contact with something strange, and holding onto the marker for balance she used her foot to test the area ahead. It was formed of stone, and raised every ten centimetres or so. There was no doubt it was a narrow staircase, and as her foot found the fourth stair she decided she would lose nothing by ascending. Removing her hand from the marker, she therefore started upward, moving slowly lest her foot pass through suddenly. After fifteen steps she began to see something take shape ahead of her. A wall perhaps, and an intense blackness which might have been a doorway. The stairs ended at the blackness and she carefully walked forward, her steps slow and small, her hands outstretched. The floor was formed of flat stone, and she could smell a mustiness to the air which indicated no one had been this way for a long time. The farther she walked the more the mustiness increased, and she could only wonder at what she had stumbled upon.
Her fingers brushed against another wall; and something else. Frowning, Garrel felt around the edges of the thing she had found. It was cold, and as she flicked it, a flat, empty sound was given off. It was certainly not stone, and felt remarkably like plastic. In the centre there was a smooth, flat surface lying at an angle.
Garrel paused several moments in thought, then flicked the switch.
The entire place exploded into light and Garrel winced, closing her eyes to avoid irreparable damage. No sounds came to her, so she knew she had not disturbed any animals which might have chosen to nest in this place. Carefully she opened her eyes, staring first solely at the floor. It was indeed of stone, and formed of large, even slabs. As she raised her eyes, it was for them to widen at what was arrayed before her.
The chamber was large, with doors leading from it to places which were likely of equal interest. There were chairs in the room, and tables overflowing with various forms of equipment. She recognised some, but could not say any of it was especially modern, and none of it appeared to be turned o
n. She recognised a heating unit and a cooling unit side by side, which indicated the temperature fluctuated down here. As soaked through as she was, Garrel could only at the moment feel the cold, but she suspected that would change when there wasn’t floodwater overfilling the lake outside.
She could see other things also: a device to play music, a scanner and various forms of information-collecting equipment. There was a generator also, which when turned on would provide enough power to light the entire structure. Overhead she could see a row of bulbs, some blown, which had come on when she had flicked the switch. There were likely other generators scattered around the structure, and perhaps somewhere there was a light left on. It would explain the diffuse light outside, and was a far better explanation than bio-luminescent moss.
However, the doorway was without a barrier and there was no indication that any of the animals outside had ever wandered inside. Why that could be she had no idea, for even if there was any deterring equipment in here it would have been shut off.
Garrel looked over the equipment without touching any of it. It all looked old, and some of the models had not been used for at least fifty years, even second-hand. She could not even believe it would still work were she to try to activate it all. There was no indication as to how long it had actually been here, but the chamber seemed to have been abandoned a long time.
Knowing there was likely more to gain from the rest of the structure, and wondering just how great it was, Garrel opened a door at random and found a storage cupboard lined with boxes of wiring and spare electrical equipment. There were also boxes of rivets and tools, so clearly this place was meant to be self-contained.
