Lost Worlds (32 page)

Maybe this was what it was like at any moment when history was made, she thought. Maybe all the observers spent their time standing around and complaining about the weather, or bitching about
the fact that they had a headache.

Some kind of commotion was happening in front of her. She looked up, trying to work out what it was. The defile which they had been trudging along for the past hour, and which had led them
inexorably and tiringly upward, seemed to be opening out, just as it jinked to the left. The sun had gone down a while ago, and they had been walking by what little moonlight managed to filter from
above, but Natalie’s dark-adapted eyes were suddenly overwhelmed by the sight of orange firelight flickering on the rocks. She felt her heart leap with a combination of relief and alarm.
Relief, because it meant that they might have finally got to where they were going, and she could stop walking. Alarm, because she had a terrible feeling that the end of the walk might just be the
end of them.

The Almast ahead of her turned left and vanished from sight. Within a few seconds Natalie was at the point where the defile abruptly turned.

And ended.

She was walking out into a natural arena of rock that seemed to be about the size of a baseball field. It was open to the sky, and the sight of the massed stars and the half-moon that were
shining down from above made her catch her breath, but what really caught her attention was the dark spots that seemed to pepper the rising walls of the rocky bowl. They looked like . . . in fact,
they
were
. . . caves. But not
just
caves – they were too regular, too rectangular. Natalie realized with a sudden sense of shock that they were doors and windows leading
into
caves. They must have been carved out over thousands upon thousands of years – an entire cave city, deep in the Caucasus Mountains, where the Almasti had lived their lives out of
the sight of mankind for as long as mankind had existed. Or longer.

But it was almost entirely deserted. That realization struck Natalie just a few moments later. There were fires burning in a handful of the nearest caves, maybe twenty or so of them, but most of
them were black and empty. Hundreds and hundreds of holes in the rock, staring down like empty eye sockets in hundreds and hundreds of skulls, and only a very few were actually occupied by anything
alive or intelligent.

Natalie felt suddenly very small, very lost and very scared.

Tara gazed around the prehistoric town in amazement and awe.

This could have been one of the wonders of the world, she thought. In its heyday, when every cave was occupied and had a fire burning in a pit inside, the flood of light down here, at the bottom
of the rocky bowl, would have been as bright as daylight. Almasti – males, females, children – would have thronged the area, moving along paths between the caves, climbing up the
steeper sides of the bowl, and crossing the open central area, carrying babies and food and all manner of things. There would have been thousands of them.

And now she was looking at the last remnants of them. It was clear that the tribe was dying. They were only occupying a small corner of the town, and they were looking tired. Not personally
tired, but tired as a race. As a people. Tara suspected that, each generation, fewer and fewer children were born. Maybe it was because they were finding it increasingly difficult to catch or grow
the food they needed, perhaps disease was rife and passed from generation to generation, or perhaps they had just outlived their time. Perhaps the weight of the millennia was bearing down on them,
crushing them out of existence.

She felt so sorry for them.

At least, she did until one of them poked her in the back with a spear.

She turned round, ready to make a sarcastic comment that the creature wouldn’t understand, but the fierce look on its face made her pause. It gestured for her to move with its spear.

She looked at the others – Rhino, Natalie and Gecko. They were also being herded left, towards one of the openings in the rock. Together the four of them were pushed inside, into the
darkness of the cave, lit only by the firelight trickling in from outside. Tara felt her spirits sink. This wasn’t good. If there had ever been any doubt that they were captives, rather than
honoured guests, this made it clear.

The Almast who had pushed them inside vanished. For a moment Tara had a clear view across the bowl. The momentary hope that the four of them could just walk out was crushed when several Almasti
reappeared, straining to push a boulder almost two metres in circumference across the doorway. The stone dragged on the ground, making a grinding sound that Tara could feel through her feet. When
it was finally in position, there was barely a hand’s breadth of space between it and the edge of the doorway.

They were trapped.

Calum leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming on the desk. Tension flashed through his body like little electric shocks, making him twitch repeatedly. Over the past
half-hour he had tried rebooting the system several times, to no effect, and then he had called all four mobile phones belonging to the party. Nobody had answered. He had checked the locations of
the mobile phones on his computer using the global positioning software, but, if the signals were to be believed, then all four of them were standing still just inside the opening of the ravine
into which they had intended to go. He couldn’t control ARLENE – only Tara could do that – but from where the robot stood he could just make out a small pile of things shadowed by
the sides of the ravine that might be rucksacks and a couple of mobile phones, carelessly discarded, or might just be some boulders that had fallen from the top. It was difficult to see for
sure.

He was going to have to tell someone about this.

He was going to have to tell Natalie’s mother, and that was a conversation he really did
not
want to have.

His mouth was dry, and his head was pounding. He needed to get himself a drink from the fridge to steady his nerves and stop his voice from shaking before he made that call.

Things shouldn’t have got this far out of control. Even when he’d heard about the second party of explorers setting out from Tbilisi, he’d thought it was exciting. Just a big
game. If he had thought that his friends might actually get
hurt
, then he never would have asked them to go.

For the millionth time he wished that he wasn’t stuck here in his apartment – just watching, rather than being there with them. Instead of them.

He levered himself up out of his chair and grabbed for the nearest leather ceiling strap. He’d done it a million times before, and the motions were second nature to him now, but his
thoughts were a thousand miles away and he wasn’t concentrating. His fingers closed over empty air a half-centimetre from the strap. In the split second it took him to realize that he
hadn’t caught it, momentum carried his body forward past the point of balance. He fell forward, and the only thing he could do was to extend his arms to break his fall.

The impact sent a shockwave of pain all through his body. His headache was suddenly a hundred times worse than it had been. He rolled over on to his back and stared up at the ceiling, and the
dangling straps, cursing the accident that had left him so helpless. The only consolation was that nobody was there to see his weakness.

Sighing, he braced himself, ready to try to get back upright.

He glanced at the desk, just to make sure that he could reach it without shuffling sideways, and something caught his attention. Something that shouldn’t have been there.

A small object, about the size of a matchbox, had been stuck beneath the desk. An antenna stuck out from one corner. Calum had certainly never put it there. It must have been planted, and he
suddenly had a sickening feeling that he knew by whom. The break-in . . . the two burglars who had got in . . . they had done it. Maybe the entire burglary had been staged so they could hide the
thing beneath his desk, or maybe one of them had just done it as a matter of course, but it had to have been them.

He knew what it was, of course. The location gave it away. It was a transmitter, hoovering up the electromagnetic radiation that came from his screens and his CPU and sending it . . . somewhere
. . . for analysis.

Someone was watching everything he did on his computer, and he suspected he knew who it was – Nemor Incorporated. Were they responsible for the disappearance of Gecko, Rhino, Natalie and
Tara?

And, if so, what was he going to do about it?

Rhino glanced around, assessing possibilities. There weren’t that many of them.

The cave in which they were trapped was barely larger than the hotel room back in Tbilisi. The walls, floor and ceiling were bare rock, apparently hand-carved out of the mountainside by
generation upon generation of Almasti. The ceiling was invisible, shrouded in shadows. In the middle of the cave was a circular depression, about two feet deep. Its sides were blackened by flames.
Rhino guessed that it was a fire-pit where food was cooked, suggesting that this cave was sometimes used as a dwelling rather than a prison. There was no window, and the doorway was blocked.

‘What’s going to happen to us?’ Natalie asked. Her voice was shaky.

‘We’re going to get out, that’s what’s going to happen.’ Rhino tried to put as much reassurance into his voice as he could.

‘How, exactly?’ Tara asked. She gestured to the boulder blocking the doorway. ‘I can’t see us picking the lock.’

Rhino crossed the cave to the doorway. He placed his hands experimentally against the boulder, braced his feet against the floor and pushed as hard as he could. The boulder didn’t budge.
He dropped his shoulder and slammed it into the rock as if he was tackling a rugby opponent, but the thing didn’t move. All he ended up doing was bruising his shoulder.

He glanced out through the gap between the boulder and the doorway. There was movement outside: Almasti going back and forth across his field of vision. He could see the shoulder of an Almast
off to one side. The creature wasn’t moving. It was guarding them, making sure they didn’t manage to push the boulder out of the way and escape.

Straightening, he turned to the three kids. ‘I know this looks bad,’ he said firmly, ‘but I promise you that we’re going to get out of here. I’ve been in tighter
situations than this and survived.’

‘You’ve been in a worse situation than being imprisoned in a rock cave by a lost tribe of Neanderthals who intend killing us so that we don’t tell the world about them?’
Natalie challenged. ‘Because that is what they’re going to do. That’s why the world doesn’t know about these creatures – they kill anyone who finds them. That makes
sense, doesn’t it?’

Natalie’s voice was getting shriller and shriller as she spoke. Rhino could hear the raw edge of panic in her tone. She was on the verge of hysteria. He had to squash it, and quickly. He
was painfully aware that these were just kids. He had to reassure them, but how? The situation was dire, and he couldn’t immediately see any way out.

‘Trust me,’ he said, loading as much sincerity into his voice as possible. ‘I promised Calum that we would come back from this mission with everyone alive, and that’s
exactly what I intend.’ He made eye contact with Natalie. ‘I promised your mother in particular that no harm would come to you, and I always keep my promises. OK?’

‘OK,’ she said in a small voice. ‘But I don’t know how we’re going to get out of here.’

‘Let me work on that,’ he said.

He turned back to the doorway and pressed his face against the gap. The cave was bare – but maybe somewhere outside was the key to their survival.

Almasti were trickling down the paths that led between the caves and were all congregating in the centre of the bowl, where Rhino noticed that seven rocks had been placed in a semicircle. One of
the Almasti was pushed to the focal point of the rocks by the spears of the hunting party. It was the one the hunting party had brought back – the one that had kept casting glances at Natalie
as they had walked. It – no,
he
– was scrawny, malnourished, but defiant. He bared his teeth at them and snarled.

The remnants of the Almasti formed a silent and circular crowd three deep, surrounding the seven rocks, the four explorers and the one lone accused. And he
was
an accused – Rhino
could see that. This was a trial.

‘Actually,’ he heard Tara’s voice from behind him, ‘I think I might have an idea.’

Rhino turned back. ‘What have you seen?’ he said. He left the words
‘that I didn’t’
unspoken, but he could tell from Tara’s sudden blush that she knew
what he was thinking.

‘That’s a fire-pit, right?’ she said, pointing to the circular depression in the centre of the floor.

‘Yes. Used for cooking food. Are you hungry?’ He immediately regretted the barbed comment. He didn’t know how they were going to get out of there, and the uncertainty was
weighing his mood down. He didn’t want to fail these kids.

‘Well, where do the heat and the smoke go?’ Tara asked.

Rhino looked around. That was a good question. There was no window, nor any smaller vents that he could see, and by the time the smoke reached the doorway it would be at head height. That meant
. . .

He gazed upward. The ceiling was hidden by the darkness, but there might just be some kind of crack up there that led to the outside, a natural vent or fissure that the Almasti used as a
chimney.

‘I see what you mean. How did you work that one out?’

She shrugged, embarrassed. ‘I build computers for fun,’ she said. ‘Processors give out heat. If you don’t have a plan to take the heat away, then it builds up and
everything fails. I assume that cooking fires in confined spaces are just the same.’

Rhino glanced sideways at Gecko. ‘You’re the gymnastic one – do you think if you get on my shoulders you can check out the ceiling for cracks?’

Gecko shrugged. ‘I will not know until I try,’ he said.

Rhino braced his legs and laced his hands together. It only took a moment for Gecko to clamber up to his shoulders. The boy’s feet clamped hard on Rhino’s neck. With Rhino holding on
to his legs, Gecko reached up and felt around in the shadowy ceiling space.