Return to the lost level, p.7
Return to the Lost Level, page 7
Ambrose recited some poetry and quotations from The Devil’s Dictionary for those who were still awake. I imagine that most of the meaning must have gone over my friends’ heads, but they still listened with interest, their unabashed curiosity with the old man not yet slaked. He stood near the fire, one hand behind his back, the other resting lightly on Fern’s head, and spoke in a quiet but clear voice.
The last thing I heard him say before I drifted off was, “Immortality is a toy which people cry for, and on their knees apply for, dispute, contend, and lie for, and if allowed would be right proud to eternally die for ...”
Kasheena was there with me, in my dreams. I promised that I’d find her soon, and that I would die for her, die for her eternally, but she just laughed at me and danced away.
Chapter 6
The Venus Fly Tree
I woke to Kasheena nuzzling my ear. Her breath was warm but made me shiver with delight. It felt wonderful—that simple touch, that human contact. I stirred, and as she continued, another part of me stirred, as well. Eyes still closed, I chuckled and sighed. My skin prickled with goosebumps.
“Mmmm,” I murmured. “I missed you.”
She responded by licking me. As I began to awaken more, I realized that her tongue felt … sticky. I caught a whiff of something then—something that smelled like a cross between a dog’s breath and rotting vegetation. A second later, I remembered that Kasheena was among the captives—and even if she hadn’t been, she’d always smelled much nicer than this. Her breath had never been this warm. And her saliva had never been sticky.
I opened my eyes and groaned, recoiling in disgust as Fern licked my forehead with her long, gray tongue. Glistening with ropy white strands of foamy saliva, it looked like a piece of raw liver and had the sandpaper consistency of a cat’s tongue. Cringing, I waved the baby dinosaur away and sat up. When I wiped my face, my hands came away slimy. Fern snorted, pawing at the ground.
I glanced around the camp, expecting to hear laughter or taunts from my companions, but everyone else was still asleep, with the exception of Karenk, Tolia, Flik, and Marta, who were on guard duty and staring out into the forest. The fire had died down to nothing more than embers and ash. A thin wisp of smoke curled from it, dissipating before it got even a few feet off the ground.
Fern tried to nuzzle me again. I pushed her away, gently but firmly. She grunted in protest.
“Get,” I whispered. “Scat!”
She tilted her head, staring at me with those huge, soft black eyes, and then farted. Her nub of a tail wiggled like a pig’s. Chuckling, I reached out and patted her head.
“You’re a cute little thing, but you stink. Now go wake up Ambrose, okay?”
Fern waddled off, almost as if she’d understood me, and turned her affections to the old man, who was sleeping on the ground nearby, his legs curled up to the point that his knees almost touched his chest. At some point, he’d taken off his coat and wadded it up to use as a pillow. I felt sorry for him. Yesterday, he’d been asleep in a hotel bed. Now, he was sleeping in the rough and the nearest hotel was a dimension away. At his age, the ground had to be painful. I was sore and aching. I could only imagine how he would feel when he awoke.
I stretched, working out the kinks in my back and neck, and then whistled to catch the attention of the four guards. They wandered over to me, while a few of our other tribe members began to slowly stir.
“Did you get any sleep at all?” I asked Tolia.
She shrugged. “Some. You were right with what you said. I’ll be of no use to anyone if I am tired and weak. But my anger … my anger does not make for a good pillow, Aaron. When I close my eyes, I see Heresh, legless and bleeding, crawling after our son. When my eyes are open, I hear Apotic calling me, like a phantom. But I am rested and ready to march.”
“I understand that this is hard,” I said. “The waiting, I mean. If you’re up to it, why don’t you and Kert get a head start on us. Get back on the trail. Mark it for us like you did yesterday. We’ll catch up as soon as everybody is awake.”
Tolia nodded. “Thank you, Aaron.”
“Kert, is that okay with you?”
“Yes, Aaron. I am anxious to start again, as well.” He turned to Tolia. “I will fetch our gear.”
The two of them hurried off while the rest of the encampment woke. Some wandered off to relieve themselves while others stoked the fire and prepared a quick breakfast. Ambrose rose slowly, grunting and huffing. He supported himself by leaning against Fern and wobbling to his feet. It was obvious that he was in pain, but it was also obvious he was trying not to let on about it.
“I’m sorry about the accommodations,” I apologized. “The ground doesn’t make for a good bed. When we get back to the village, we’ll fix you up with some much better sleeping arrangements.”
He nodded. “I’m surprised I slept at all, what with that damnable sun shining the entire time. How anyone here can make it through the night is beyond me.”
“They—the ones who were born here—have no concept of night, really.”
“And what of government or religion? Do they have concepts of those?”
“Not like you and I know them.”
Ambrose grinned. “Well, then. Perhaps I will like it here after all.”
I was distracted for a moment by laughter. I glanced toward the campfire and saw Martek, Flik, and Sleeth giggling together over some shared joke. When I turned back to Ambrose, he was flexing his fingers and wincing.
“Is the pain bad?” I asked.
He waved his hand dismissively. “The pain is what it is. When you get to be my age, there is always some level of pain, even while you are sleeping. You learn to live with it. Indeed, quite often I forget about it entirely. It is far easier to ignore pain than it is an empty stomach. What I could do with is some breakfast.”
I nodded toward the campfire. “They’ll take care of you. I’ve got to see to preparations.”
“You are anxious to depart.”
“I am. We’re going to have to speed up our pace today.”
“Then I had best get ready.”
He began stretching and turning, easing out his aches. Fern stood by his side, watching. Then, growing bored with his calisthenics, she wandered across the clearing and began to eat. After a few moments, Ambrose joined the others around the fire and did the same. Our meal consisted of Slukick and some edible leaves—two things the old man was unaccustomed to. He eyed both suspiciously at first, but then devoured them with gusto.
When everyone was finished, we started off again, following the trail. Once more, Tolia and Kert had left marks on the trees, so it was easy enough to track them. We kept a steady pace, and I was worried for a bit that it might be too punishing for Ambrose, but he kept up with the rest of us and didn’t complain. Indeed, he didn’t seem to notice it at all. His attention was focused instead on our surroundings. He studied everything—the flora and fauna, the rocks and minerals and soil, the sky and the sun, cloud movements, and even my fellow tribe members. He didn’t ask any questions because he’d said that talking for an extended period of time while simultaneously exerting himself made his asthma worse, but I suspected he was noting everything he observed for later analytical study.
“You say the sun never moves?” he asked at one point.
I confirmed that it didn’t.
“So that would indicate this planet doesn’t rotate. There are weather patterns—wind and cloud movement—and gravity, and yet the planet does not rotate. What if it is not a planet at all?”
“I don’t believe it is,” I replied. “The Lost Level occupies a dimensional space, but there’s no reason that the particular space it occupies needs to be a planet.”
“And yet, it has its own solar body and its own atmosphere.”
“Correct.”
“Have you ever wondered what is up there, beyond the sun? If space, as we know it, exists beyond a planet’s boundaries, then what exists beyond the edges of a dimension such as this?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but no answer was forthcoming. Ambrose laughed.
“It’s a rhetorical question, Aaron. No need to bother yourself. But I should imagine it is but the first of many questions that I will ponder on however many sunlit nights I remain in this place.”
The forest thinned more, and the ground began to slope downward. We soon caught up with Tolia and Kert at the edge of a dry creek bed. They stood on its bank, hovering over a ten-foot drop. Kert had one hand wrapped around a low-hanging tree branch about the thickness of his arm. Oddly, Tolia’s dagger seemed to be embedded in the same limb. As we approached, he and Tolia turned in our direction. I could see from their expressions that something was wrong.
“What is it?” I asked. “What’s the matter?”
Tolia’s tone was alarmed. “We were about to cross this ravine. Kert grabbed onto that branch to steady himself, and now he cannot let go.”
“Why not?”
“The tree will not allow him to.”
I glanced at Kert. His expression was calm—the serenity a stark contrast to Tolia’s demeanor. When I reached for the tree branch, Tolia stopped me.
“No, Aaron. Don’t touch it. The tree is sticky, like a spider’s web. You can see what happened to my dagger when I tried to cut through it.”
I looked again at her weapon, and realized then that the blade wasn’t embedded in the wood—it was stuck fast, as if it had been glued to the tree.
“What the hell?” I muttered.
“All of the tree’s bark is like that,” Tolia said. “I have never encountered anything like this.”
The rest of the group had clustered around us, keeping their distance from both the tree and the edge of the gulley. I glanced back at them.
“How about the rest of you? Ever seen anything like this? Trut, how about in your travels?”
The others shook their heads, but Trut lowered his.
“I have,” he said, his voice grave. “And it has never ended well.”
“What is it?” I asked.
Trut shrugged. “I don’t know the name for it, but I have seen this type of tree before. Their sap is like glue—unbreakable. Were Kert able to tear himself free, the damage he’d suffer in the process would be severe. His skin would rip and tear. Possibly the muscles beneath his skin, as well. The process could kill him. But he won’t free himself.”
“Why not?”
He nodded at Kert. “See how content he is? I’ve heard these trees have that effect on their victims. It keeps them calm and happy.”
“Some type of hallucinogen?” I asked.
“Delivered chemically through the sap,” Ambrose said.
Trut nodded. “Perhaps, Mr. Bierce. While I have knowledge of your world, and other worlds, I can’t be sure. But I suspect you are guessing, the same as me.”
“I am,” Ambrose admitted.
“We definitely don’t have anything like this on Earth,” I agreed. “Kert, are you okay? How do you feel?”
He glanced over his shoulder at me, smiling widely. Drool dribbled down his chin. His eyes had a glazed, glassy look. Despite the heat, he was shivering. When he spoke, his voice was slurred.
“I am fine, Aaron. It tingled at first, but now it is nice. I wish to stay right here.”
“No can do, buddy. Just stick tight. We’ll figure something out.”
“A rather poor choice of words,” Ambrose muttered.
“You’re the writer,” I responded. “Just make sure you keep Fern away from it. The last thing we need is her trying to eat that thing.”
“It will be the other way around,” Trut muttered. “The sap holds the tree’s victims in place while it slowly digests them.”
The group expressed horror at this prospect, but Kert seemed oblivious to the danger he was in.
I walked around and studied the tree. It had a thick, solid trunk and an abundance of low-hanging limbs. If the branches were coated with sap, it was undetectable to my eye. Further up, there was a canopy of waxen-hued leaves. I noticed a bird skeleton dangling from one branch up high. I stared at it, bobbing in the breeze, and shuddered.
“Shlak,” I called, “we need your axe.”
He stepped forward and nodded. “I do not fear it, Aaron.”
“It won’t do any good,” Trut said.
“We have to try,” I answered.
Without a word, Shlak adopted a stance next to the tree. Then, with both hands, he raised the weapon over his head and swung. The axe arced downward and struck the limb just a few inches from Kert’s fingers. Instead of chopping into the wood, there was a dull thunk, and the axe didn’t move. Cursing, Shlak locked his knees and pulled. The axe remained stuck fast. He pulled harder, grunting, but still the weapon didn’t budge. The tendons strained in his neck and he leaned to one side, perhaps to get a better grip. We all gasped as Shlak’s arm brushed against the tree trunk. He immediately stopped, eyes wide with fear.
“I cannot move my arm,” he whispered, letting go of the axe handle. “Help me! My arm is stuck.”
Everyone began to surge forward, jostling Tolia and me. I fought to retain my balance, nearly bumping into Shlak. He whimpered in fear.
“Stay back,” I ordered. “Everybody stay back!”
“Get that shirt off of him,” Trut urged, “before the sap seeps through to his skin.”
Shlak wore pants and a long-sleeved shirt fashioned from animal skins. As soon as Trut spoke, he began twisting around, trying to loosen himself.
“Hold on,” I told him. “Let me untie you. Slowly … don’t rush.”
“We have to be quick,” he panted. “I am starting to feel it. It … tingles.”
I hurried to undo the leather straps that tied his shirt together. Groaning, Shlak slipped free of the garment and lunged forward into my arms, trembling against me. We both stumbled backward. He caught himself and stood upright, examining his arm and gasping from fear. Shlak was covered in thick, black body hair, but there was now a bald spot on his forearm where the hair had ripped free. Little drops of blood welled up from his pores.
Kert laughed. His face had a dreamy, careless expression. He reached for the tree limb with his free hand, but Tolia grabbed his arm and wrestled it away.
Karenk clasped Shlak’s shoulder and asked, “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” Shlak nodded. “I am now. It felt … good. Natural. For just a second, when the sap seeped through my shirt and onto my arm, it tingled and I wanted to feel more.”
“That explains Kert’s behavior,” I said. “The chemical effect must be consistent.”
Kert giggled again, nodding vigorously. “Let me be a part of the tree, Aaron.”
“We are wasting time again,” Tolia said, gazing off into the distance.
“We can’t just leave him here,” I argued.
Tolia didn’t reply. I glanced around at the others. They all stared at me, waiting for a decision.
“Some of you grab his legs,” I said. “Tolia, keep hold of his arm. Karenk, you’re the strongest. I want you to grab his wrist, just below where he’s stuck. Be careful you don’t get stuck, too.”
I encircled Kert’s waist with my arms while the others took their positions. When they were ready, I nodded.
“On the count of three. One … two … THREE!”
We tugged and Kert screamed. I stared in horror as the skin on his palm and fingers stretched like taffy and then began to split and tear. Blood gushed out from the wounds and dripped down onto Karenk, but still Kert remained stuck fast.
“More,” I urged, raising my voice to be heard over Kert’s anguished shrieks.
We pulled harder, straining with the effort. Kert’s complexion went white and he bit through his bottom lip. The cords in his neck strained and bulged. His screams grew even more frantic as the skin on his wrist, just above Karenk’s grip, began to stretch and tear.
“Enough,” I shouted. “Stop! We keep this up, we’re going to skin him alive.”
We relaxed our grip and Kert sagged in our arms, breathing heavily. His eyes were closed. His blood coated the tree limb and spattered onto the forest floor. He moaned, chest heaving. Then, he opened his eyes again and his expression changed from anguish to delight.
“There,” he panted. “The tree is making it better again …”
“Hold him,” I said to Tolia. “Don’t let him get his other arm stuck.”
I led the others away, out of Kert’s earshot.
“I warned you,” Trut said.
Ignoring him, I looked at the others. “Do any of you have an idea?”
They murmured among themselves, but it was clear that no solutions were forthcoming. None of us wanted to leave Kert behind to his fate, but we couldn’t think of a way to free him.
“Perhaps we should consider fire,” Ambrose suggested after a moment. “Build one at the base of the trunk, or burn the offending limb.”
I shook my head. “A fire that close to the tree is just going to harm him, too.”
“The man has taken enough damage already,” Trut agreed. “Even if we free him, that hand of his is ruined. He’ll never use it properly again. There’s no sense burning him on top of that.”
“So,” I replied, “we’ve got two choices. We can leave him here to his fate, or we can amputate his hand and free him. I won’t go for the first, and I’ll go against anyone who chooses it. But I don’t care for the second choice, either.”
“It’s not so bad.” Trut patted his stump. “You get used to it after a while. You adapt. And besides, Kert will still have the rest of his arm. He ought to consider himself lucky.”
“I have seen the toll dismemberment wreaks on young men,” Ambrose told him. “Such injuries are one of the most detestable sureties of war. I do not think this Kert will share your outlook after we lop off his hand.”
“Even if we do this,” Marta said, “he will still not be able to travel or fight. If we abandon him here in that state, is it not the same as leaving him attached to the tree?”
