The Lost Level, page 6
“If it has ever been discussed at length among my people, then I have not heard. But the Anunnaki must indeed have come from elsewhere, just as others here do. And just as you have. It has been said that no creature is original to this land.”
“What is this place?” I asked. “Does this land have a name?”
“Shameal says it is called the Lost Level.”
I must have been visibly startled, because her eyes widened, and she stepped toward me.
“I see by your reaction that you have heard of Shameal. Have his powers become so legendary that they are known on the other worlds?”
“No. I mean, I’ve never heard of this Shameal. Who is he?”
“He is our tribe’s wise man. A great healer and a mystic. Perhaps the greatest. He knows the ways of this land better than anyone.”
“And he calls this land the Lost Level?”
“Yes.”
“Is he…can he help me?”
Kasheena cocked her head. “Help you how?”
Bloop grunted and scratched his stomach. Then he swatted with annoyance at a fly.
“Could he help me get back to my world? What you called elsewhere?”
“I do not know,” Kasheena said. “I have never known anyone to return to elsewhere. Indeed, I have not known many people from elsewhere. Most of my life, I have lived among my tribe.”
“But you said that your tribe believes everyone in this land came from elsewhere.”
“Yes, that is what we believe. Originally, our people—and all the other tribes and creatures who live here—came from somewhere else. My ancestors did. My uncle did, as well, when he was just an infant. But I was born here.”
“And no one has ever left this place, as far as you know?”
“Of course people leave. There are some who have left the tribe. They have ventured out into the land to make their own way. And then there are those who died. They have also left, of course. When we die, we leave here.”
“But has anyone ever returned to…elsewhere?”
“I do not know. This is a question for Shameal. If you will help me return safely to my people, I will take you to him. He will answer your questions. I am sure of it.”
“Why is that?”
“Because my father is the leader of our tribe. He will be happy to see me return, and he will wish to thank you for safeguarding me. If Shameal will not assist you, then my father will order him to do so. As great as Shameal is, my father is greater. Shameal respects him, as do all.”
“And how far away is your village?” I asked.
“If we rest normally, then it is five sleep’s journey.”
“Five sleeps….” It occurred to me that with a perpetual sun, the inhabitants of this land had no way to mark the passage of time via days and nights—at least no way that I would recognize.
“Five sleeps,” she repeated. “If we were to travel through the swamp, the journey would be much shorter, but I fear none of us could stand against the Mushroom Men. Their touch is death, and even breathing the dust from their bodies would kill us. We must travel through the forest, instead. But it is still a dangerous trek. There are many dangers, and we will have to be mindful of the Temple of the Slug.”
She arched her back and put her hands on her hips. My eyes were once again drawn to her breasts, so I glanced quickly at Bloop, who was crouched over the body of one of the Anunnaki, looting the corpse. As I watched, he tried putting on the police riot armor, but his furry, barrel–shaped chest was far too broad to accommodate it. He picked up a fallen handgun, sniffed it, and then tossed the weapon aside. Finally, he settled on a sword. When he looked up and caught us staring at him, he bared his fangs and grinned.
“Bloop!” He thumped his chest again and hefted the sword over his head like a character in some old pirate movie.
“Well,” I said, turning back to Kasheena, “I guess he’s with us.”
“Bloop!” He grunted as if in confirmation.
“And you, Aaron?” Kasheena asked. “What of you? Will you help me to get home? With the promise that when we arrive, Shameal will assist you?”
I would have helped her anyway, regardless of whether or not her tribe’s wise man could assist me in getting back home again. Her beauty was reason enough for me to help her. Indeed, it was powerful enough that I would have followed her anywhere, just for the privilege of being in her presence. But I didn’t say any of these things. Instead, I bowed, made a sweeping gesture with my arm, and pointed at the path.
“Lead the way,” I said.
Her smile was answer enough.
5
STEEL AND SCALE
BEFORE DEPARTING ON OUR JOURNEY, I returned to the tree stump where I’d stashed my gear and retrieved my plastic bag. It took me a few minutes to find it, but my companions were patient.
When I returned, we salvaged the weapons and equipment from the rest of our fallen foes and stripped them of their armor. Then Bloop and I piled their corpses together in a heap. The police riot armor fit me, although it was somewhat loose around my shoulders. The armor reeked of serpent, but I couldn’t afford to be squeamish. I donned both it and the matching helmet, and found a dagger that one of the Anunnaki had sheathed in his boot. Testing the blade proved it to be very sharp and finely honed. I wondered if the craftsmanship was that of the snake men, or if the weapon had simply been stolen from one of their captives. There was no detailing or design work on the hilt that might indicate a manufacturer, which I found curious given its expert quality. Shrugging, I added the small blade to my armament of sword and handgun. I considered taking some of the other guns, as well, but they had less ammunition than mine, and I didn’t want to overburden myself with extra weapons. Juggling multiple firearms would make them more difficult to carry, and harder to use quickly, if needed. I experimented for a long time with the strange heat rifle but was unable to figure out how to operate it. Neither of my companions was familiar with it, either. Regretfully, I cast it aside.
Kasheena selected one of the pistols and a short sword. When I asked her if she knew how to shoot, she merely smiled at me. None of the armor would fit her or Bloop, but in addition to the sword he’d previously taken, our furry blue companion chose a second blade of equal size and length. He made quite an imposing figure, standing there with one sword hilt in each massive fist—a fuzzy sort of corsair. Judging by what I’d seen of his dexterity so far, I had no doubt he could wield both weapons with accuracy. I wondered idly if he could simultaneously brandish a third sword with his tail, but I had no way of asking, and my attempt to communicate the question via sign language was futile. He merely frowned at me and repeated his name.
I searched through the canvas backpack the last snake man had been wearing. It was in good shape and contained a number of small items—coins, rocks, a small serpent pendant with jade green eyes. The latter made me uneasy to look at, and I tossed it aside. I also got rid of the rocks after a quick examination. Perhaps they’d meant something to their owner, but I saw no discernable value in them. The coins were rough–hewn and crude, with no markings or engravings. The backpack also contained Kasheena and Kasham’s clothing, which consisted of fur loincloths. Kasheena put hers on. I tried not to watch, busying myself instead with transferring all of my gear into the backpack.
“Is that all your people wear?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I had more, as did my uncle, but I do not see them in the pack. But no, I do not travel about with only a loincloth. That would be foolish. It does not offer much protection.”
It occurred to me that for Kasheena, clothing was a matter of practicality, rather than modesty.
“Will you be okay in just that?”
“I will have to be,” she replied, shrugging again. “Perhaps we will find more as we go along.”
Finally, we buried Kasheena’s uncle. I used one of the leftover swords to dig up the dirt. The soil was soft and rich, and the task was easy enough. There were few roots or rocks to impede my progress. As I dug, I stirred up several insects, worms, and grubs. Some of them were very much like the ones found on Earth. Others were entirely alien to me. Bloop greedily ate handfuls of the grubs, smacking his lips together and grunting with an obvious, if somewhat discomforting, pleasure. When he offered me some, I declined with a polite hand gesture. The ones I’d eaten earlier in the day had been enough for me. Bloop gobbled another handful. He smiled at me, grub pulp dangling from his whiskers. When he’d finished, he and I lowered Kasham into the hole. Then we stood by solemnly while Kasheena hovered over the grave.
“Do your people believe in a Heaven?” I asked when she’d finished her mourning.
“What is Heaven?”
I laughed. “Well, back where I come from, many people ask the same question. Heaven is an afterlife—it’s a place we go after we die. At least in spirit.”
“Perhaps my people go to Heaven,” she said. “I do not know.”
“Your people must have some sort of belief about what happens when you die?”
She shrugged. “All I know is that we leave this place. That is what I have always been told, and I believe it to be so. I have seen many people die, and I have never seen them again after that, so they must have indeed left the Lost Level.”
“And I’m assuming you bury all of your people after they die? Like we just did for your uncle?”
“Well, of course we do. If we didn’t, the animals would eat, pick, and scatter their corpses. Do your people not do the same for your dead?”
“We do,” I admitted, “for the most part. But it holds more significance than that. It’s a ritual of sorts. A way of saying goodbye to those we care about.”
“Bloop,” our fur–covered compatriot exclaimed.
“Exactly,” I said.
Our conversation faltered as we began our trek through the jungle. When we did talk it was in hushed tones, short snatches of communication regarding the direction we should go. Occasionally, my companions would warn me about certain plants or would halt suddenly, alerted by various jungle sounds. In one case, there was a distinct, light chirp, the kind much like those of the songbirds back home, but the delightfully cheery sound obviously filled Kasheena and Bloop with dread. They crouched in a bed of ferns, both visibly frightened. Both of them motioned at me to get down, so I did. We remained hidden in silence, and neither of them moved again until long after the sound had faded.
“What was it?” I asked.
“A tikka–bird,” Kasheena whispered. “Very small, but very dangerous. It is no bigger than your thumb, and most of it is teeth. Their bite is poisonous, and can paralyze their prey within a few heartbeats. When they attack, others like them are drawn by the scent of blood. Such a flock can devour you within minutes, stripping the flesh from your bones.”
“So, they’re sort of like flying piranha?”
“I do not know these flying piranha, but if they attack and eat anything that moves, then yes. That is like the tikka–bird. Of all the dangers here, I think they are among the worst.”
I had a vision in my head of a flying school of piranha with feathers and wings. It seemed ludicrous to me, but Kasheena’s dread was apparent. She was clearly shaken, judging by her expression and behavior. I glanced at Bloop. His nostrils were flared, and he scanned the treetops and branches warily.
“Well,” I said, “then I hope I never meet one up close.”
“If you do, you will probably not live to tell about it, and should you be fortunate enough to escape, it will be without your ears or nose or perhaps your fingers.”
We proceeded in silence again for a while. A pall seemed to hang over the jungle. It wasn’t until the vegetation began to grow thinner and more sunlight shined through the openings that we talked again. When we did, I asked Kasheena something else that had been on my mind.
“How is it that you speak my language?”
She laughed. “Perhaps it is my language that you speak, Aaron Pace.”
I nodded, agreeing that the semantics were correct. “Do all of your people speak English?”
“Is that what you call your language? English?”
“Yes.”
“That is what we speak, though we do not call it that. It is a funny word.”
“Do you know how your language originated?”
She shrugged. “I only know that we have always spoken it. I assume it was the language of our ancestors.”
“So, maybe your tribe came from the same place I did.”
“Perhaps. I do not know. I know that my father’s father was not our first chieftain. There were several before him. It is said that the first people came here from the sky.”
“From the sky? You mean, like in an airplane?”
“I do not know what that is.”
“It’s a…we have them back on my world. They’re a means of transport. Like a chariot.”
“I do not know what that is, either.”
“A chariot is a cart that people ride in. It’s usually pulled by some sort of animal. An airplane is similar to that, I guess, except that it is powered by mechanical means. People sit inside of them and fly through the sky.”
She squinted at me, as if trying to determine if I was teasing her. Then she shook her head.
“That is back on your world. We do not have airplane chariots. But our ancestors did not come from elsewhere. They came from the sky. The sky is here, not elsewhere.”
“But the sky they came from could have been my sky.”
“I do not know. Perhaps. I saw what I thought was a metal bird fly overhead when I was a girl. Maybe instead of a bird, it was one of these airplanes. But I do not know where it came from.”
I decided to try another question. “Your uncle’s skin was a different color than yours. Is that common in your tribe?”
She nodded, making an expression that seemed to indicate she thought this observation very odd. “We have many different colors. Why? Is that unusual on your world?”
“Not at all,” I said. “I’m just trying to determine some things here so that I can better understand. Like where your ancestors originally came from, for example.”
“We have never worried much about these things, Aaron Pace. My people are more concerned with important matters, like finding food and defending our village and making offspring.”
“Do you….” I faltered, feeling my ears turn hot. “Do you have any…children?”
Hands on her hips, Kasheena tossed her head back and laughed.
“No.” She shook her head. “Not yet, for I have not chosen my mate. But I will soon. Already, my people urge me to do so.”
“Why have you waited?”
“There are certain things I must do first. There are tasks and feats required of all men and women in our tribe before we can select a mate or before those we choose can offer their consent.”
“Like what?”
She shrugged. “I must walk across the fire. Hunt and kill enough to feed the entire village for one night. Nothing too difficult. I have completed many of them already. And until I finish the other tasks, I am content to wait for one who I deem worthy.”
“Do you have many…suitors?”
She frowned, clearly not understanding the word.
“Many potential mates,” I said. “Do you have many who are interested? Or who you are interested in?”
“A few,” Kasheena replied. Her smile grew playful. “But I am in no hurry to make up my mind, no matter how insistent the others in my tribe are.”
“Good to know,” I said.
Now it was Kasheena’s ears which turned red. I noticed her smile grow wider.
It matched my own.
As we continued on our way, Bloop took the lead. Kasheena followed him, and I brought up the rear. More of the jungle gave way to forest, and the breeze became more noticeable. Pausing, I removed my helmet and closed my eyes, relishing the feel of the wind on my face and forehead, cooling my sweat. Then, the breeze brought something less enjoyable—an overpowering and unmistakable stench of feces. Scowling, I put my helmet back on, but it did little to block the smell. Bloop and Kasheena noticed it, as well. Both of their noses wrinkled in disgust, and Bloop coughed. I wondered how sensitive his sense of smell was and what impact this foul odor might be having on him.
As we pressed onward, the stench grew stronger. Soon enough, we discovered the source. A tremendous pile of animal dung lay directly in our path. It was as wide as a full–sized car and taller than I was. A horde of insects buzzed and flitted around the stinking pile. My companions paused in front of it, inspecting the mound. Bloop prodded at the feces with the tip of his sword, dislodging several skeletal remains.
“What the hell made this?” I gasped.
“A dragon,” Kasheena answered. “But the pile is not fresh. See? There is no steam coming off it, and the smell is not as strong as it would be had these been recent droppings. The insects have already begun to burrow inside of it. I would say this dragon passed through here several hours ago. We should be safe.”
“A dragon?” I repeated, gagging.
“That is what my people call them. Perhaps your people have another name.”
“I doubt it. Dragons are a pretty universal concept. But there’s no such thing as dragons.”
“Of course there are,” Kasheena said. “Here is the dung of one. Be thankful we crossed paths only with its dung and not with the dragon itself. Otherwise, we would be part of its next droppings.”
I started to respond, when a gleam amidst the feces caught my eye. My attention focused on it. Noticing my curiosity, Bloop dug around with his sword and freed the object. It was a bent and misshapen wheel from a wheelchair—not the common type found in hospitals, but from one of the more expensive kind used by people who are paralyzed or otherwise convalescent and spend their entire lives in such things. A few more wheelchair parts and bits of metal oozed from the feces. I wondered who it had belonged to and how it had gotten here, and more importantly, how it had ended up inside the belly and intestinal tract of a supposed dragon.
