by Geonn Cannon
Rute considered that before she nodded. “Okay. That’s fortunate.”
She had found two knives and a revolver on Ketcham’s body. She unfastened his ammunition belt and slung it over her shoulder. She rose into a crouch and craned her neck in an attempt to see Travis and his cronies through the trees. She crept closer to Cora and motioned for her to get down as well.
“There was an explosion not long before I woke you up,” Rute said. “It came from underground. I felt it in my boots. Not long after that, I heard gunfire, also underground. Does that journal say anything helpful?”
Cora flipped back a few pages. “I’m making the assumption sub’tnan means subterranean, which means he found it after descending through the cave.” She skimmed his scratched words. They knew about the cliff he would have had to climb because they’d sent Dorothy and Trafalgar down the same wall. Hopefully he would have been tired enough to stop and write an entry before he continued on.
“Here,” she whispered, holding the book so Rute could see the page.
“I can’t read English.”
“Oh. My apologies. You, um, speak it very well.” Rute ignored the awkward compliment. “He says the cliff leads to a wide area, and from there a corridor leads ‘deeper into the earth.’ He wrote that he could hear the sound of the river echoing off the walls.” The handwriting was shaky here, either from excitement at being near his goal or his hands were weak from climbing down the wall.”
Rute said, “One way in, one way out. It was an ambush for one or the other of them. I’m not confident about Trafalgar and Boone’s chances. They went down with pistols, the Burnt Empire had rifles. Longer range."
“But the Burnt Empire would have to descend with their backs to the cave,” Cora said. Almost immediately, she realized their plan. “The grenade would have sent Dorothy and Trafalgar running. If it didn’t kill them right away. We can only hope they were deeper in the cave when it went off.” She looked at the weapons Rute had gathered. “I can handle a gun if that’s what you’re wondering. I have no problem shooting these bastards in the back if we need to.”
Rute shook her head. “We’re not shooting anyone if we don’t have to. Come on.” She turned and headed back the way they’d come the day before.
“Excuse me?” Cora said, remaining where she was.
“Going to the cave is a suicide mission, Miss Hyde. Your friends are dead. Captain Neville is dead. I’m not going to throw my corpse on top of theirs. We’re going to use these weapons to get back to camp, recover whatever we can, and then I’m taking you back to Belém. I imagine this place will always be part of your nightmares, unfortunately, but physically... we’re leaving it. Right now.”
Cora’s face burned. “No. Not again. Not this time, not with Dorothy and Trafalgar.”
Rute furrowed her brow. “What are you talking about?”
Cora struggled to keep her voice low, but it had become a growl. “I will not run away. I will not spend the rest of my life wondering what happened, going over it in my mind, wondering if I could have saved them. No. I refuse. I refuse to leave their story unfinished.” She stalked forward and held out her hand. “If you insist on leaving, then go. I’ll take out every last fucking one of these bastards by myself if I have to.”
“You will find only corpses!”
“Then I will bring their bodies home for a proper burial.”
Rute said, “You’re willing to die for this principle?”
“I couldn’t bear living knowing I walked away again.”
Rute squared her shoulders and held out one of the guns butt-first. “Congratulations, Cora Hyde. I think it’s completely insane what you’re doing, and I still think the only wise choice is to cut our losses, but if pushed, I’d say this is the moral choice. You’re the first person in this entire damned expedition I actually respect.”
Cora took the gun. “Then let’s go. Time’s wasting.”
#
Gunfire. Dorothy’s consciousness rushed back to her like a wave, like a sudden explosion of light in a dark room. She was sitting against something stone, her legs out in front of her. She couldn’t feel either arm below the shoulders. She looked down and saw both hands resting on her lap like swollen bags of water. She could see where the snakes had bitten her, the twin hills radiating dark red trails up her forearms. Not good.
Also not good, the strobing light of continued gunfire which had brought her back to consciousness. She could see she’d been moved back into the main chamber, D’janira’s inner sanctum. She realized she was in the center of the pool, which meant she was leaning against the broken well. Trafalgar was lying facedown on the ground next to her. Her tunic was horribly ripped, the skin underneath torn and bloody. Dorothy saw chips of stone and pieces of metal shrapnel in the wounds and felt her rage building. Unfortunately her legs were as immovable as her arms.
D’janira stood guard at the edge of the water with her back to them, watching as the four unfamiliar men - presumably the Burnt Empire - used rifles to shoot at the snakes swarming around their feet. There were so many of them that it was impossible to see the stone beneath them. One man had two snakes hanging from either leg, hanging by the fangs embedded in his muscle. He tried kicking them away, but they only slapped against his calves like ribbons.
“Trafalgar... are you conscious?” Speaking was difficult and hurt her throat. If Trafalgar responded, Dorothy couldn’t hear it. “I don’t know how we’re going to get out of this. You’ve always said I’m good at flying by the seat of my pants, but right now I think I’d prefer one of your carefully thought-out plans. Not that anyone could possibly have imagined us ending up in this predicament right now. So if you have anything, now would be the time to implement it. I’ll follow along with whatever it is. Just take the lead and I’ll... I’ll follow...”
D’janira didn’t turn around, but calmly said, “You’ve lived a taxing life, Dorothy Boone. You should accept your fate and enjoy the brief moments of peace you’ve been given. You’ve earned rest.”
Every instinct told Dorothy to fight, but peace did sound so... appealing. And it wasn’t as if she had many options. She couldn’t lift her arms or stand. She thought she might be able to flop around like a beached fish, but that would be the extent of it. She would hardly be a force to be reckoned with. Maybe this really should be the end. It would be so easy to just surrender.
Two of the Burnt Empire men had fallen. One of them aimed his gun at D’janira, obviously hoping he could at least take her down with him, but the snakes took that chance to attack him en masse. He cried out in pain and terror and the shot went wide. D’janira didn’t even flinch.
“You knew he would miss before he even pulled the trigger,” Dorothy said. It was amazing how much effort it took to raise her voice to a casual speaking volume.
“Of course,” D’janira said. “This has always been happening here.”
Dorothy rested her head against the well. Fighting seemed even more pointless now. Another Empire tribesman fell, and now there was only one. He pulled off his belt, reached into a pouch, and with a battle cry which echoed off every wall and flat surface, flung it as hard as he could into the chamber. Dorothy watched it because her head was aimed in that direction, and it allowed her to see something unexpected.
D’janira flinched.
The belt flew across the room, farther and faster than it had any right to. It rose in a graceful arc and then began a slow descent toward the well. D’janira was following its progress as well, brow furrowed and lips parted. Dorothy felt a surge of hope at the realization the woman who could see everything - past, present, future - was surprised.
The belt hit the edge of the well and landed at the ground next to Trafalgar’s outstretched right hand. The top flap had fallen open and Dorothy saw what was inside.
“Good lord. Trafalgar! Grenades!”
Trafalgar’s hand moved slower than Dorothy would have hoped. She pushed herself up and, with what looked like hercule
an effort, grabbed the strap. Her face was twisted in a mask of agony as she lifted the bag and dropped it over the lip of the well.
“No! What are you... what have you done?” D’janira said.
The explosion threw Dorothy and Trafalgar away from the well. Its stone bulged outward, and she could hear something crackle deep beneath the surface. Dorothy felt fresh blood trickling down her forehead and wondered just how scarred she would be by this mission.
Not at all, she realized. Scars need time to form...
She rolled onto her back and looked at the well. White light shone from within, a beam of radiance unlike anything she had ever seen. It was magnificent until she realized the significance of what she was seeing.
“Oh, crumbs. We just created the anomaly.”
D’janira was sobbing. “Why didn’t I see this? I could have... stopped it. I could have saved us all.” She fell to her knees and stared at the light.
Trafalgar was lying on her side, also staring at the light. One eye was swollen shut, and blood soaked the entire front of her tunic. Tears burned Dorothy’s eyes. The expedition was worse than pointless, they had caused the very thing they intended to stop. She heard running footsteps coming up from behind her and twisted to see Felix Neville jumping from one plinth to the next, with Cora Hyde following closely. Cora froze when she saw the state Dorothy and Trafalgar were in, looking between them with no idea which one she should run to.
Felix, however, pushed D’janira out of the way to stare at the light. Unlike everyone else in the room, he seemed in awe of what he was seeing.
“At last.” He held his arms out to either side, and Dorothy saw that he was holding his journal in one hand. “I’ve spent so long waiting for this moment. And now I’m here. I’m finally here. Everything I’ve worked for. But there’s no sense in wasting time if I don’t have to...” He smiled, laughed, and opened the journal to a blank page. He patted his pockets for a pen.
As Dorothy watched, she put several facts together in rapid succession.
Fact the first: They knew the anomaly could send things into the past.
Fact the second: Neville only found the cavern because he received a mysterious message on a trip to Brazil which gave him the coordinates.
Fact the third: They were only in this place because of Felix Neville’s pursuit of the Pratear.
Fact the fourth: She had literally nothing to lose at this point.
She rolled onto her knees and threw herself at Neville like a sack of potatoes. She slammed into his lower body and knocked him to the ground. He cried out more from surprise than pain and twisted to look down at her.
“Lady Boone? Have you lost your mind? Get off of me this instant!”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Captain Neville.”
His expression changed. He gripped his pen tightly and lifted his arm above his head, then pistoned it down into her shoulder. The venom had numbed her enough that the wound didn’t hurt nearly as much as it could have and, in fact, it provided enough adrenaline that she could bring her hands up to close them around his throat. She moved her body like an inchworm in the hopes her weight could pin him down, but she would lose any fight he would put up. Her death was an absolute given.
Or at least it was, until Trafalgar added her weight to the pile. She put her hands on top of Dorothy’s and, though they were slick with blood, they were infinitely stronger than Dorothy’s own grip. Neville choked and closed as she squeezed.
“What are we doing?” Trafalgar asked.
“Note. Neville sent... himself... coordinates. If we... he can’t... we’ll...”
D’janira said, “What are you trying to say?”
Dorothy looked back at her. “We have to close the loop. We’ve seen... alternate timelines. We know they can be created. We can create one by... preventing this man from sending himself a message. He’ll never find this cave and this moment will never happen. None of us will ever come here.” There was blood in her mouth, thick and metallic. “None of it will happen. The anomaly, the crash, the Burnt Empire. This will erase all of it. But this timeline has to be severed completely.”
“Myself included,” D’janira said.
“I’m sorry.” She looked at Cora. “You should go. Leave. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but this cavern exists in an unusual pocket of time. Dying here may be permanent no matter what the timelines do.”
Cora was crying. “I can’t...”
“You can. You must. And help Trafalgar. She can still walk a little...”
Trafalgar said, “I won’t leave you to die alone.”
Dorothy met Trafalgar’s gaze.
“Besides,” Cora said, intruding on their moment, “time is of the essence, and there’s no chance we could scale that cliff back to the surface anyway. We’re doomed no matter what. We might as well make a united stand.”
“Fine. I suppose it’s too much to ask that my dying wish be honored.” She looked at D’janira again. “Is there a way to ensure the complete destruction of this place?”
D’janira nodded. “Of course. If what you claim is true, it will continue in another timeline. I will live. But this version of me... will not. That is a difficult truth to accept.”
“Trust me, I understand.” Feeling was returning to Dorothy’s torso and, judging from the pain that came with renewed sensation, she feared her death was imminent no matter what happened in the next few seconds. “But I believe it’s the only way to end this once and for all.”
“And I believe you are right.”
D’janira faced the ruined well. She brought both hands up and the entire world seemed to shake around them. Dorothy tried to imagine what had happened in the other timelines. She and Trafalgar most likely died. Felix would have gone into the past to send himself the message. D’janira may have spent the next fifty years trying to rein in the anomaly only to fail in the end. The plane would be sent into the past, crash. And around it would go...
But not this time.
A massive diamond-shaped object rose from the water on the far side of the well. It seemed too large to fit in the cave with them, but it continued to rise. It tilted down and Dorothy saw the serpent’s face. Each eye was the size of an airship’s tire. It stared down at them with an intensity that showed Dorothy precisely why cultures might have worshipped something like this. Its tongue flicked out and Dorothy flinched. Trafalgar even brought up her hand as if to ward it off. Cora retreated to the edge of the stone platform, clearly regretting her decision to remain.
Only D’janira was unaffected by its arrival. “The time has come.”
The serpent seemed to look directly at her.
“Yes.” D’janira’s eyes were wet with tears. “It’s the only way.”
The ground shook again. The cave began to crumble, the roof collapsing in small pebbles that soon became large stones. Cora covered her head and dropped into a crouch.
Dorothy looked at Trafalgar, who smiled at her.
It was the last thing Dorothy saw before a stone hit her in the temple with enough force to crack her skull.
Chapter Twenty
Dorothy woke in a wave of agony that faded completely before she could cry out. Her skull was broken. She reached up to touch her temple, only then realizing she could move her arms. The poison was... no. There was no poison. And her skull hadn’t been broken by a falling stone. She was in a bed. An unfamiliar bed, but it was definitely better than a stone platform in an underground cave. She took a moment to explore the places where she expected to find damage only to touch smooth, unbroken skin.
She sat up slowly, distrustful of the comfort she found herself in. Light streamed through cream-colored curtains, turning the entire room golden. A book was lying on the bed next to her and she checked the title. It was a novel she’d actually been meaning to read for weeks, but she hadn’t found the time. She opened it to the marked page and realized she did remember the storyline. She remembered reading it the night before when she go
t into bed. But no... she’d spent the night before with Trafalgar...
That memory prompted her to drop the book and throw back the blankets. She pulled open the door to a hotel corridor, posh and late-morning silent. Trafalgar was at the other end of the hall in loose pants and a sleepshirt looking as confused as Dorothy felt. She looked up and their eyes met, and Dorothy saw a look of such relief and joy that it made her laugh.
“You’re alive.” Trafalgar moved slowly as if afraid to break the mirage.
“And you’re in one piece,” Dorothy said. “I don’t think you know just how much blood you were losing.”
Trafalgar lightly touched Dorothy’s face. “So it was real? The cave, the serpent... I saw you die.”
“You weren’t far from death yourself.” Dorothy put her hands on Trafalgar’s shoulders, grateful to feel how solid she was. “Cora?”
“I haven’t seen her.” Trafalgar looked over her shoulder, but the hallway was still empty. “Maybe she’s... no. No, she’s not here. She didn’t come with us.”
Dorothy could very clearly see Cora sitting across from her on the deck of the ship which brought them to Brazil. But she could also see the same tableau without her. She and Cora both applauded Trafalgar’s baldness, but she was also alone in her praise. They’d been a trio walking off the ship but also two women walking side by side.
“Who knows how much has changed,” she said. “For instance... last night...”
“Yes. Yes, last night. I remember it very well.”
Dorothy smiled. “Good. I would hate to think I’d only imagined it. But was it...”
“It was there,” Trafalgar said. “It didn’t happen here. We didn’t have the same experiences or near-losses to inspire the moment.”
“A shame.” She looked past Trafalgar and her confusion returned. “Where are we?”
“One of the nicer hotels Belém has to offer,” Trafalgar said. “You said since the RGS was footing the bill for this expedition, there was no reason we shouldn’t treat ourselves.”
