Subterranean (43 page)

Mo'amba's image solidified. “You must be more careful, Ben,” he admonished. “Wandering alone in the village. There are still factions here that would see you fail or wish you dead. Sin'jari is not one to give up easily.”

“How'd you know I was in trouble anyway?”

“It's the job of a
heri'huti
. To see what no one else sees.”

“Thanks. I owe you. I was about to get my butt kicked.”

“No. You were about to be killed. Those two are part of Sin'jari's clan. They are
silaris
, the poisoned ones.”

A shiver passed through Ben, disturbing his mental connection like a pebble dropped in a still pond. “What about Ashley? When I leave tomorrow, will she be safe?”

“Yes. She is guarded by Tru'gula's men. He'll protect her. No one, not even Sin'jari, will bother his circle.”

“Are you sure?”

“I'll watch over her myself. Trust us. We will guard your mate until you return.”

“She's not my . . . oh, never mind, I don't even know what she is. Please . . . just keep her safe until I'm back. And I
will
be back.”

“You will fail, Ben.”

Ben, stunned, was sure he must have heard wrong. “What?”

“I can see down narrow paths of time. If you go as you are now, you'll fail.”

“What does that mean?”

“You are
heri'huti
, but you don't believe it here.” Mo'amba pointed to his naked chest. “You must accept your heritage or you and many others will perish.”

“But I don't see how—”

Mo'amba's image swirled into the image of his dead grandfather. “Your mind's eye chose this memory to represent me when first I called you. Yet you rejected your grandfather's heritage. It shamed you. For you to succeed, you must learn to embrace your blood, cherish its memory as much as you cherish this image. Only then will you have a chance.”

“How am I to succeed, then?”

The old man held both fists to his chest. “Listen to your blood.”

“But what do you mean by—” The images dissolved away, leaving Ben in blackness. Only the words echoed back to him: Listen to your blood.

He blinked his eyes and stared at the mute figure of Mo'amba, so many questions still on his tongue. But Mo'amba pulled himself up with his staff.

“Wait!” Ben crossed to Mo'amba. “I need to know what you meant.”

“Y-you,” he garbled at Ben gutturally, “you sleep.” He turned his back on Ben, obviously believing he had said enough.

Sleep? Ben wondered. Like that's bloody likely.

Ashley woke with a start, surprised she had fallen into real sleep. A female member of the tribe bowed her way into her chamber, laden with clattering platters of colorful fruit and some type of steaming meat. She shuffled to a flat stone about knee-high and spread out the meal.

Ashley's heart sank as she realized where she was. She wanted to retreat back to her dreamland. She had dreamt that she was back in her tiny trailer in the New Mexico desert. Jason and Ben were playing catch in the dusty yard, their feet trampling her feeble attempt at growing a succulent garden. She should have known it was a dream because all her garden grew were those weird red mushroom pods. The oddest part, though, was how easily she accepted Ben in a fathering light. She glanced at her belly. Ben as a father?

A gentle snoring drew her attention to the mound of pillows beside her. She sat up straighter as she recognized the tangle of blond hair peeking from under the blanket nearby. Ben! What was he doing here?

As she reached to nudge him, his snoring tumbled on a loud snort. He jerked awake, startling her. He rubbed at his eyes. “What time is it?”

She ignored his question. “How did you get past the guards?”

He pushed up on an elbow, his eyes bloodshot and a rusty stubble on his cheeks. “Even down here, it's who you know. Mo'amba bullied the guards into letting me pass. I just needed to know you were okay.”

“Why didn't you wake me?”

“And ruin your beauty sleep? Not a chance!” Ben crinkled up his nose. “What's that smell?”

The sizzling meat on the platter had filled the cavern with smells that tantalized the tongue. Her stomach growled in anticipation. “Breakfast,” she said hungrily.

He sat up in his pillows, finally noticing the naked server. “Not exactly a modest group, are they?” Ben slipped out of his covers and, with his back shyly turned to the server, slipped into his trousers.

Ashley also used the moment to get dressed.

Both of them descended on the meal like locusts. Finally, Ashley pushed her stone platter away from her. “Phew, I think I've had enough. For a last supper that wasn't too bad.”

Her words seemed to have a devastating effect on Ben. “This won't be your last meal, Ash. I promise you. We
are
getting out of here!”

She smiled at him, realizing he had misinterpreted her words. “I meant this was your last supper here before you left. Not mine.”

“Oh.” Ben's face was sullen.

She laughed at his serious expression.

“I just thought—”

“I know.” She took a deep breath, sobering herself. She reached a hand out and took his fingers in hers. “I know, Ben. It's sweet.”

“Sweet?” Her word seemed to wound him. He glanced at her fingers entwined in his. He spoke without raising his eyes. “Ash, you've got to know how I feel about you. I want to be more than something
sweet
.”

She tried to pull back her hand, but he held her tight. “Ben . . .” She didn't know what to say. A part of her wanted to cry out that she loved him, but another part was frightened to give in. After Scott, after the miscarriage, that part refused to be hurt again or to trust again. She had barely survived it the first time. Jason had kept her going, and now her son was missing. Too many emotions warred within her to think clearly. How could she put this all into words?

She didn't have to. He released her hand and pulled away. His words were a strained whisper. “I guess we'd better get going, then. I'm sure Harry and the others are waiting.”

He turned away, his shoulders slumped. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, to console him. To tell him not to give up on her. But was that fair? She closed her mouth.

As Ashley entered
umbo
's chamber, she saw Harry huddled with the three other hunters who would be joining Ben's team. He seemed amazingly bright and chipper for someone who'd been working all night. The room was crowded with other members of the tribe. Mo'amba stood in conversation with Tru'gula. No other village elders were present, not even Sin'jari, and for that, Ashley was thankful.

“We did it!” Harry said, beaming as he crossed to join them.

“You fixed the axle?” Ben asked, excitement in his voice.

“Come see. You're not gonna believe it.” He waved them over to where Michaelson was hunched beside one of the plastic sleds.

Ashley noticed there were now four fluorescent sleds hooked to the aluminum transport. The scavengers had retrieved all the stray sleds, even Villanueva's. She looked at her dead friend's yellow sled, and a chill passed through her. It seemed like a bad omen.

She studied Michaelson's work. With a final tug on a rope, he secured the last of the boards in place. Just like a little train.

Harry said, “It was Dennis's idea.” He lifted the large sled up, careful of the motor. “Look. This little alteration makes this the most valuable vehicle on the planet.”

Ben whistled his appreciation. “Fine piece of work.”

Ashley squeezed up to see. She glanced at the front axle. It glittered in the feeble light. “In that what I think it is?”

“You bet,” said Harry. “A pure diamond axle.”

“Will it hold?” Ben asked, eyeing a dubiously.

Harry shrugged. “I ran the axle through some stress tests. It seemed okay. Besides, what other choice do we have? We use it or we drag our way along on the plastic sleds.”

Ben fingered the diamond. “All right, mate, we travel in style.”

Ashley stepped back as Harry lowered the sled. “So . . . so you're all ready to go, then.” For some reason, this bothered her. She had been anticipating this, but suddenly to be faced with the reality that Ben would be leaving her, and possibly killed, seemed too much. Tears threatened to well.

Sensing her anxiety, Ben stepped to her and held her close. “I guess we shouldn't wait. Every minute may matter.”

Ashley just nodded, afraid to speak, fearful she would break down.

Harry called the other tribesmen to him and barked final orders, waving his hands and pointing at the various sleds. It seemed he would take the lead, being the most familiar with the motorized sled. Ben would take up the caboose, helping to steady the three nervous hunters, who were not accustomed to the concept of transportation.

Ashley stepped out of the way, trying not to get underfoot, as packs were stowed and instructions explained. Mo'amba stepped next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. She glanced at him, and he gave her a reassuring squeeze.

Once everything was ready, Ben returned to her. He seemed rejuvenated by the activity, but there was still a sadness in his blue eyes. “I promise I'll find out about Jason. And I
will
be back.”

With Mo'amba's hand on her shoulder steadying her, she felt capable of speaking. “I know you will, Ben. I trust you.” And for the first time, she realized she did. Trusted him with her life. Trusted him with her son's safety. Tears welled up and rolled down her face.

He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, then turned and crossed to his sled.

Ashley took a step forward. She could not let him leave without knowing how she truly felt. She called to him, her words catching in her throat: “Ben! I . . . I . . .”

Drowned out by the roaring of the ignited sled's motor, her words were lost. Harry revved the engine, and the sled slid smoothly into the wormhole, dragging the train of riders behind it.

She watched Ben disappear into the tunnel, riding Villanueva's yellow sled. Ashley clutched her arms around her chest, a coldness creeping into her stomach. “I love you, Ben,” she whispered.

L
INDA CRAWLED BETWEEN THE BOULDER AND THE
floor, too tired to acknowledge her nagging claustrophobic unease in such a tight space. The miles of stone above her were of less concern at the moment than her stinging eyes, sore muscles, and miserable situation.

This was the second day since she and Jason had been captured by Khalid, and the pace he set was exhausting: minimal rest stops, no lunch break, just a brief breakfast, and a cold dinner of ration bars. It was up to her and Jason to keep pace with him. He had warned her that he wasn't going to stop and wait for them. If he was to punch in the code on Jason's belt of explosives every two hours, then they had better keep up. So the entire day was spent trying to keep abreast of Khalid.

With a final heave, Linda cleared the boulder and pushed to her feet. The tunnel here was wider. The choking smoke had by now faded to a mild annoyance, which made breathing easier. Yet it was this continuing dispersal of the smoke that drove Khalid's savage pace. If the smoke should dissipate completely before they had tracked their way home, then they truly would be lost.

There was another reason to race the smoke. So far, not a single predator had blocked their trail upward. Linda had voiced her opinion that the acrid fumes were probably acting as a repellent. Khalid had merely nodded at her assessment, and with an oddly worried expression, he had set an even harder pace.

As Linda stretched her back and adjusted her handkerchief over her nose, her headlamp speared the darkness ahead. Khalid had halted several yards down the tunnel, leaning over something on the floor. Jason's upper arm was clutched in his grip. What now?

Jason turned to her. “Come look.”

Squeezing next to Jason, she saw what had attracted Khalid. A half-yard-tall metal canister stood in the center of the tunnel, with thick cables leading from it and trailing forward into the darkness. A meshed dish, like a miniature satellite receiver, topped the canister.

“What is it?” she asked.

“It's one of those special radio things of Dr. . . . Dr. Blakely's.” Jason stammered over the dead man's name. “The cables should lead us to the base.”

“Then we did it,” Linda said. “We made it.”

Khalid continued down the tunnel, following the cables.

“Linda,” Jason spoke up from beside her, taking her hand as they followed Khalid, “I don't think he's gonna let me go free.”

She squeezed his hand. “Jason. He will. Once you're no longer needed as a hostage, he'll let you go.”

The boy remained silent a moment, then spoke. “When we reach the base, when we get there . . .” His voice trailed off.

“What is it, Jason?”

“If you get a chance to escape, take it. Leave me behind.”

She stopped, pulling him to a halt. “I'm not going to leave you with him. We'll find a way out of this mess.”

“He's gonna kill me anyway. I can tell.”

“Jason . . . honey, I won't let—”

“It's in his eyes,” he interrupted. “He looks . . . looks at me as if I'm not really here. Like I'm already dead.”

Linda knelt and cupped his face in her hands. “I promise you. We'll get through this. Together.”

Jason shook his head, dislodging her hands. “He's gonna let me die.” He then turned and marched down the tunnel.

She watched his back disappear around a bend. Like hell, she thought. Pushing to her feet, she followed him, determined to keep that animal from harming Jason. She caught up with the boy and put an arm around his shoulder. They both remained silent as they continued through the tunnel, following Khalid and the snaking cable.