Cretaceous Clay And The Ninth Ring

by Dan Knight

  ~~~~~~

  Again, she tossed and turned that night. Sleep came in fits when it came at all.

  She was running, and running, and running. Bristles caught her clothes, and thistles scratched her feet. Where am I? A ruin rose out of the brush. The Pale! I must be in the Pale! I have to hide. She ran into the ruin and around a corner. Beside a pile of stones she found a cedar. She darted behind the cedar hoping she would not be followed. A shadow fell on the dirt. The specter had found her. There was nowhere to run. She was trapped.

  She awoke with a start. Sleep paralysis gripped her, and she could not move.

  Nightmare, I was just having a nightmare.

  She sat up in bed and cried. It was almost the third hour.

  Beside her was her stuffed gingerbread man. She picked him up and hugged him. “I’m alone, Ginger.” She said to the stuffie, “All alone.”

  Stop feeling sorry for yourself, said the voice. Get over your pity party.

  She ignored him. “You’re not the only one who’s alone,” she said to Ginger. “Don’t answer him.” She willed herself not to answer.

  The card on her night stand caught her eye. She picked it up and looked at it. On the back was a schedule of times and vid channels. During the third hour, the channel read, “601.” She sat the card down, and picked up her remote.

  “Vid on,” she said, and the screen brightened. A reality show was playing. Dwarves wearing funny costumes were trying to knock each other off of small boats floating in a pond. An elf explained the action and cracked a few lame jokes.

  “Six, oh, one,” she said, and the vid switched channels.

  A muscle-bound jock appeared on the vid wearing nothing more than a loin cloth. He smiled, “Hungry? Angry? Lonely? Tired? Make it right, tonight!”

  Angela, stop! The voice nagged her. Be a good girl, and turn it off.

  The jock climbed a rock wall. He flexed his biceps and twisted to show off his rippling twelve pack abs. He shook his hips. “Don’t be blue! All your dreams can come true!”

  Turn it off, Angela, said the voice. Please turn it off.

  She clutched her gingerbread man and breathed. The voice was silent.

  This isn’t for you, Angela. Please, I’ll find you a boyfriend. It may take some time, but I promise you a good life, if you’ll just turn it off.

  “Sell it to Betsy. When I buy my contract, I’ll get my chip removed, and that’ll be the end of you.”

  I’m not in your chip.

  “If you’re not in my chip, why do you sound like a guy?”

  Why not sound like a guy?

  “Are you me?”

  The voice did not answer.

  “Look, if you’re me, you should sound like a girl. But you sound like a guy because they set you up down in the control department and someone goofed and selected the male voice instead of the female.”

  The voice was silent.

  “Right, so I guess I got your number.”

  A chimpanzee ran up to the jock. The hunk of masculinity picked up the ape, gave him a hug, and put him on his back. “Come one, come all,” he cried.

  One last time, Angela, don’t do this. Save yourself.

  “I am saving myself, silly. When I’m beautiful, I can have any guy I want.”

  “Come now! Come call!” The jock bellowed. He took hold of a green vine, and swung across the canyon into a magical forest of peppermint trees and lollipops.

  If you call them, said the voice insistently, your life will be over.

  “Rubbish, gene therapy is safe. I looked it up. It’s more dangerous taking a robo-cab.”

  “Call me! Call now!” yelled the jungle jock. The jingle echoed off a candy cane canyon. “Call me! Call now!”

  She put Ginger down, picked up the card and tapped New Gem’s number into her caster.

  “Call me! Call now! Call me now, if you want to feel alive!”

  The call connected, and she heard music.

  “Call me! Call now! Call me now, if you want to change your life!”

  “Mute,” she said, and the vid silenced the jungle man.

  From her caster, a cello played a slow romantic solo by Rachmaninoff. She wondered how she knew that, but dismissed the thought. All the brains you never wanted, and no place to use it.

  “New genes, New Gem!” said a goblin maiden. “How may I help you?”

  “Hi, I’m Angela Christie and a friend of mine gave me your card.”

  “Oh, good,” the goblin grinned. Her swarthy complexion oozed youth and passion. “My name is Sally, and I just need some information.”

  Angela gave Sally her identification number, her debit card number, and answered a few questions.

  “My friend mentioned a discount?” she asked.

  “Oh yes, honey,” said Sally. “You get half off the regular price to start. But don’t mention it to the boys. That’s the only catch. It’s just for us girls. Since Steinem referred you, we’ll give you half off again. She’s a barker for us. So you’ll only pay a quarter of the regular price. Usually that’s as low as we go, but you can talk to the doctor. If he thinks you really can’t afford it, he may take off a little more.”

  “Oh, good, good, thank you.”

  “Can you come in for an appointment tomorrow morning? I’m open from eight to nine-thirty. If you can’t make that appointment, you’ll have to wait until next Thursday.”

  “Oh, eight, I think. What with the rumors of war, we’re all on alert. I don’t think I can get a whole morning off.”

  “Great, eight it is,” Sally beamed. “We’ll see you then angel.” The goblin closed the connection.

  Angela put down her caster and the card. She picked up Ginger and hugged the stuffie. The jungle jock continued his silent dance on her vid.

  Now you’ve done it, said the voice. What will the agency say? If they find out you’ve gone and gotten genetically modified, they’ll never let you go to nursing school.

  “Can it grasshopper. They’ll never know about it. There’s no reason to know.”

  They can find out by pulling your health record. All they have to do is get suspicious.

  “So I don’t let ‘em get suspicious. What are you going to do? Tell?”

  I told you. I don’t work for them. Baby, please! It’s not too late.

  “Stow it! Quiet! I’ve got to sleep. Good grief, if you’re trying to keep me stable, you’re not doing a good job.”

  I’m trying to save your life.

  “What life? Living death you mean. And I haven’t even killed anybody.”

  “Thump.”

  What was that? She clutched her stuffie, and glanced at her clock. It was half past three. I would have sworn I heard a knock on the door.

  She rolled around and looked at the door. Her room was semi-dark. Only the nightlights and her vid held the shadows at bay. She stared at the security light on her door. Did I lock the door? The security light was green. The door is open.

  “Thump.”

  It was the door.

  She froze and her eyes darted around her room. She had no weapons, not even a knife. All she had were a few plastic knives she saved from the cafeteria. She used those for snacks, and they were not very useful for that.

  Shaking, she felt waves of goose pimples run up her arms, and she shivered. What do I do? I’ve got to do something!

  Quietly, she rolled down her blanket, and threw her legs off the bed. She picked up her caster, and set it to record to her friend-site. She pointed the caster at the door, and started filming. She reached the door and pressed the button on the lock box. The security status light turned red. A wave of relief swept over her. She put her hand on the door handle to test the lock.

  “Thump.” The handle trembled.

  “Go away!” she shrieked. “Go away! I’m recording you!”

  She shivered. She counted to ten. It seemed like an eternity, but when she looked at her caster, only seconds had past. Sh
e watched the seconds tick by, and still she waited. This can’t go on. It’s just a drunk. He’s lost and he thinks this is his apartment. He will go soon.

  She waited. He’s gone. It’s been ten minutes. She checked her clock. Okay, it’s been three minutes. I can’t wait.

  Yes you can wait, said the voice. Leave it. Go to bed. Go to work early. Cancel your appointment at that chop shop, and forget it.

  She ignored the voice, and she pushed the handle down. The security light turned green, and she opened the door.

  The lights were dimmed for the evening, but the hall was still well-lit.

  Nothing stood in the hall. She stuck her caster out of the door and looked up and down the hall. She turned it quickly back and forth. She checked her neighbor’s doors, the janitor’s closet, and the lifts at the end of the hall in the viewfinder.

  No one was there.

  She twisted the caster the other way, and she stopped.

  There was a shadow. She stared at the shadow, but nothing happened. She turned to see what might cast the shadow.

  “Thump.”

  She jumped back into her apartment, and shut her eyes. She tried to scream, but nothing happened. She held her breathe and a cold breeze wafted over her. This can’t be happening!

  “Lights on,” she said, and the bedroom lights rose.

  She forced open her eyes. She looked around the room. She was alone. Nothing was there.

  Forgetting caution, she charged the door, and slammed it shut. The security lock turned red, and for the first time since she had been assigned to the room she felt glad to be locked in.

  She darted to her closet and threw open the door. It was empty.

  She jogged to her bathroom, and opened its door. It was empty. She checked her shower, and no one was there.

  She picked up Ginger, and hugged the little stuffie. Flipping open her caster, she fiddled with it and found the vid she had shot.

  She raced through the vid of the door and the hall. On fast forward, the vid skipped the twist. The vid shook up and down as she jumped backwards.

  Carefully she scrolled to the point just before she jumped. The shadow was tall. It had the head of a man. It had two eyes, which glowed. There were no other features.

  She set her caster to record. “No one’s going to believe this,” she said. “I shot this vid just a few minutes ago. This creep was in the hall scaring me. He pounded on my door. I tried to catch him on vid, but all I got was his shadow. If anything happens to me, call security at Nodlon Biots. He’s in the building, and he’s got to be somebody who can get past security. Either he’s an elf or a goblin. He’s too tall for a dwarf.” She posted the vid on her friend-site.

  She sat on her bed, and leaned back on her pillow. The door lock was red. Her lights began to dim. She did not want to sleep in the dark. Not now. “Lights on, override,” she said. The lights brightened, and she squeezed her stuffie.

  Angela, they’re after you, said the voice.

  “Stuff it grasshopper.”

  The attack has only begun. Please quit now. I don’t want to lose you.

  “It’s my life grasshopper, and I’m not going to lose it.”

  No News is Good News

  Jack turned on his vid, and switched to the news channel. A smartly dressed elven maid stood before a map of Nodlon. Flashing her delightful eyes at the camera, she smiled as if she had just discovered a fresh litter of puppies on her doorstep.

  “Our delegation to the peace conference on Elysium has walked out of negotiations for the third time. Through a statement issued yesterday, President Nogora accused Admiral MacArthur of blockading Titan. Baron Voltaire, Nodlon’s Ambassador to Mars, withdrew from the negotiations after an Elysium moderator read the statement during an open session. We asked the Baron what these developments mean for peace in our time, and he said, ‘No comment.’ The Baron and his entourage returned to Nodlon in his personal low earth orbiter. Minerva Shaw for Mercury News; reporting to you from Elysium Station; back to you Bruce.”

  “Thank you, Minerva.” The anchorman’s smile melted away. A silhouette of a dwarf maiden filled the background.

  “A shadow falls over all Nodlon tonight. All of us at Mercury News are gravely concerned about this epidemic of missing dwarves. Grim news in the Zodiac case; another dwarf maiden is missing. Angela Christie disappeared last night.

  “None of us knows if Angela ran away, or if she was a victim of foul play. Since Nodlon Yard found Anna McCarthy on Blueberry Lake, our most intrepid investigative reporter has aggressively pursued the truth. Chesterton is on the scene with an update.

  “Chesterton have you learned anything of interest that may explain this horrible crime?”

  The scene switched to a middle-aged gentleman with a spray of white hair and a goatee.

  “Bruce, I’m here at dorm forty-two in the Octagon where Angela Christie lived, and where she was last seen. Nodlon Biots runs this dorm for the Octagon, and a hundred young dwarf maidens call this dorm home.

  “Nodlon Biots assigned Angela’s contract to the Ministry of Manna where worked as a secretary in the Ministry’s micro-biot warfare lab. Her supervisor, Dr. Felix Abrams told us she was an exemplary employee. Rumor has it she once filled in for Princess Virginia’s handmaiden.

  “When Angela wasn’t working, she enjoyed reading old science-fiction and fantasy novels, and she loved seeing Cretaceous Clay at the Circus.

  “Tragically Bruce, everyone here feels a sense of foreboding. An eyewitness caught a glimpse of a horrific scene in Angela’s dorm room. The constellation of Capricorn covers the missing girl’s vid screen. Apparently it was drawn in the child’s own blood. Our eyewitness wasn’t sure what the sign of the Zodiac means, and the police are not talking.”

  “What else can you tell us about this case, Chesterton?”

  “Bruce, a spokeswoman for Nodlon Yard confirmed the constellation of Capricorn matches the modus operandi of the villain in the Zodiac case. She refused to answer any further questions, though. For now, the police are treating this as a possible runaway situation. Some speculate an underground railroad offers sanctuary to distraught dwarves seeking a better life.

  “Given the horror of recent events, I’m sure they are not ruling out foul play. It’s a sad day here. None of us know what has become of Angela. All of us fear she may be in the hands of some monster preying on young dwarfs. Our thoughts and prayers go out to Angela tonight wherever she may be.

  “If some beast prowls Nodlon seeking to ruin the lives of biots, we hope Nodlon Yard will catch the beast soon and end this nightmare. Our biots deserve better than to be preyed upon. Biots are people too.

  “This is Chesterton, at Nodlon Biots’ dorm forty-two signing off. Back to you Bruce.”

  The camera cut to the anchorman.

  “Chesterton,” Bruce’s brow furrowed, “let everyone there know all of Nodlon shares their grief.” The anchorman shook his head solemnly. “Nodlon Yard has their best homicide detective on the case. Inspector Lestrayed has never failed, and he’s called in Jack Clay. All of Nodlon looks to them tonight. Watching. Waiting. Hoping they will end the nightmare soon. This is Bruce Ably saying biots are people too.”

  Pouring it on thick, hey Bruce?

  The Black Dwarf has killed again. I can feel the pressure, and I know it in my heart. Is it my fault? Is it Gumshoe’s? Was there something we didn’t do? Have we missed a clue?

  Jack turned off the vid and stepped out on to his patio. The stars twinkled over Babel Tower, and Nodlon’s blue lights blazed in the valley below.

  I’ll be lucky to get any sleep tonight.

  A Victim in the Sewer

  Darn you Eddie! You just went up to Fisherman’s wharf for lunch! Bet you tied one on and you called in sick!

  It was dank, and the air felt cold.

  I shouldn’t be here alone! But he was alone tonight. He was the engineer on watch for any calls in the wee hours of the morning
. Eddie was supposed to be his backup tonight. But Eddie had finked out on him. Niles parked his cart in a substation’s service bay. The service bay opened onto the oldest sewer main in Nodlon. The main was originally part of the mines, and the mines were older than Nodlon itself. The mines followed the coal seams, and so the main meandered more like an underground cavern than a pipe network.

  Eddie should be here to watch my back! The only other tech on duty was Roxie. Even if she wasn’t handling dispatch, I couldn’t send her alone. Not in the old sewer! Not down here! Not at this hour! He swallowed. Yeah, but I’d rather take her with me than come down here by myself.

  He slung his backpack over his shoulder, shook his torch to charge it, and took a deep breath. Though he had worked for Nodlon’s Ministry of Sanitation for years, he had never quite accepted the idea of being alone in the sewers. Yet here I am alone!

  He left his cart and walked to the end of the service bay. When he reached the main, he stepped over a trough, and glanced up at the flood gates. If the water rose, the flood gate would drop to protect the maintenance level. An avalanche on the Balmhorn could do it. An avalanche would set off a tidal wave, and millions of gallons of water would pour into the ventilation shafts. The flood gates would drop and shunt the water to the sewer.

  Everyone in the sewer would drown! He imagined a wall of water coming down the sewer, and then tried to reassure himself. These sewers have been here for three hundred years. Nothing like that has ever happened. He put it out of his mind and tried to focus on the task at hand.

  The tunnel’s faint lights broke the gloom, but they were little more than night lights. He waved his torch up and down the tunnel hoping he would not see anything unusual. The light of his torch faded into the gloom as the tunnel rounded a bend.

  The main was a good ten yards across, and a small creek meandered along the floor. Puddles pockmarked the sand in the bed, and the creek trickled from puddle to puddle.

  Are there Noddie holes here? He visualized the Mystery Map in the employee lounge. Push pins covered the map. Each color stood for something significant, but they called it the Mystery Map because the significance was only known to the insiders; red for smugglers, green for alligators, white for ghosts, black for strange shadows, and blue for Noddie holes. And I think I saw a blue one up this way! I hope Noddie isn’t hungry tonight.

  Oh, come on, no one’s disappeared out this way in years. Was it years? He tried to recall, but he could not remember anyone disappearing out this way.

  He checked his location on his caster. This main runs up to the plant on Blueberry Lake.

  Thumbing his caster, he zoomed in and out, refreshing his memory of the tributaries and locks in the area. It wouldn’t do for a senior engineer to get lost. I’d never hear the end of it!

  Less than an hour ago, a hatch reported a signal malfunction deep in the ancient part of the system.

  Now, I’m standing barely a hundred yards from the hatch. Normally, dispatch sent teams of two to check out any signals. Usually they found leaking manholes, drains blocked by rubbish, or sluice gates jammed with tree limbs. The inspection team noted anything interfering with the operation of the sewer, and they put in a work order. Please let it be routine, perfunctory, ordinary, and normal.

  Yeah, but these aren’t normal times what with evacuations, rumors of war, and missing dwarves. He was the only engineer left on duty so he had to go in alone.

  After several more paces he glanced down at his caster. The map showed he was over halfway there. He glanced back, but the main had turned around a bend, and he could not see the bay or his cart. Now I’m really alone!

  Steeling himself, he hurried forward. The sooner I’m done, the sooner I can get out of here!

  Slowly, he approached the hatch, but when he neared it, he found what should not have been. A shadow leaned against the wall.

  He froze. He trembled.

  Good old Niles, why did you have to be here tonight? Before he completed the thought, the answer popped into his head. Because you can read the ancient’s runes and nobody else can! No one left in Nodlon anyway. All the rest have gone on to Iron Mountain. Fat lot of good that does! The runes in these parts are illegible. All the markings have worn off.

  Afraid to go in and investigate, and afraid to leave, he mustered his courage. He stared at the shadow but it did not move.

  Thinking his torch was playing tricks on him, he shook it to recharge the batteries. The light brightened, but the shadow still made no sense.

  He forced his feet to edge slowly towards the hatch. Every nerve was on edge, and he heard flapping over his head. He turned quickly to catch whatever it was in his torchlight, but the light only darted up and down the sewer main. Bats! Just bats fluttering their wings in the dark.

  He turned his torch upstream. He was so close now, the torch finally caught the shadow, and his mind solved the puzzle.

  It was the hatch. The hatch that should have been closed stood wide open. Next to it, the sensor box was ripped from the wall. Well, that explains the signal malfunction. How will I write this up? Found sensor box ripped from the wall? Cause unknown?

  Who could have opened the hatch? No one should be down here. No one was allowed down here unless they were with the department or on a tour. Don’t ask who! The question is what? No man ripped that box off the wall. Something pulled the box off the wall and opened that hatch!

  The air was still and cold. The hatch stood unmoving in the light of his torch.

  Remember Goldilocks? He glanced over his shoulder. Nothing was behind him. What if the thing is still here?!

  What of the unexplained stories of a creature waiting in the dark? Never reported, never seen. Noddie!

  “Thump,” he froze. Was it behind him? Was it in the creek?

  Sometimes the tunnels spoke. Some said it was because the tunnels breathed. They creaked with the rise and fall of air pressure. “Thump,” he trembled. Was it coming or going?

  Others claimed the sound was the phases of the moon. The tides twisted the mountain, and the rocks cried out. Still others spoke of cave men who for reasons rational or perverse, sought to separate themselves from the rest of human society.

  Or it’s a sea monster!

  “Splash,” he flinched. That was close! It’s in the tunnel!

  Is it Noddie? He held his breath. Should I turn off my torch? Should I run?

  A small wave rolled down the creek. It fell over each puddle in turn and passed him by. Ripples reflected his torchlight.

  The tunnel grew dark, and a shadow fell over the creek. Something blocked the lights upstream. Fear paralyzed him. He wanted to run, but he could not.

  “Splash,” the sound was just yards ahead. He switched off his torch and shut his eyes. It’s going to rip me to pieces! He thought of his wife and his baby. Goodbye! I love you!

  “Splash, splash, splash,” the sound retreated. “Splash, splash, splash,” the sound faded away.

  The sound faded, and soon it disappeared altogether.

  He opened his eyes. He was freezing and sweating all at the same time. He summoned his courage and switched his torch back on. He turned his torch up the bend, but the light simply faded into the gloom.

  The main was as dark as ever. It’s gone.

  He cautiously advanced on the hatch, and peeked around it. He flashed his torch into the hatch and up the stairs. Nothing was there.

  The hatch led up to the maintenance level on the Great River. He could have gone that way rather than walking up from the service bay, but it would have meant going a mile out of the way down corridors just as empty and just as old as the one he was in.

  He lowered his torch and shined the light on the creek. What am I looking for? Footprints? Any sign of Noddie?

  In his light, he saw a shape in the creek bed. It was a lump lying on a puddle. It looked vaguely like a tree stump.

  Cautiously, slowly, he crept upstream towards the stump. He stepped down o
nto the creek bed and carefully closed in on the shape.

  As he moved closer, he made out details and form. It was lumpy and it rose and fell and a branch stuck out. Hoping it was only a tree, he tried to cheer himself.

  In his heart, though, he knew it was not a tree. Just yards from the stump, his light caught the branch and he stopped.

  He studied the branch covered in mud and filth for several moments. He tried to make sense of it, but there was no mistaking it for anything else.

  It was a dwarf. A desire to help overcame fear. He reached out, laid a hand on the dwarf, and rolled her over.

  The maiden’s open eyes met his, and he screamed. He dropped his torch and jumped.