Ashland and Wesley now bring you the exciting conclusion of
Two For the Treasure. Can they escape from Von Schlange? Can anyone find the mask? Is it really that important? Will Diana and Jason finish this story without killing each other? To find out, scroll your mouse downward along the page....
"I shook the last drops of water
from the canteen into my mouth. I was parched. Stuffing the now-empty canteen
back into my pack, I sat back on my heels. If this tunnel continued, we would
have to turn back around seeking water outside the cave. If we didn’t, we’d be
running a huge risk of death by dehydration. The worst I had to deal with at
the moment was a bad case of morning breath and my hair was a tangled dirty
mess, but I knew that Jason was suffering from worse. I hoped Von Schlange was
suffering, too, but wouldn’t bet on it.
I rose from my sitting position
relatively rested from the full day of relaxation and picked up the backpack. I
met up with Jason and the three of us continued walking. And walking. Followed
by more walking.
An hour or so had passed when I
realized that something in our environment was way off. I wracked my brain.
Finally, it hit me.
“WATER!” I exclaimed. “Guys,
there’s water here!” I pointed to the walls, where the rocks were shining with
little droplets of water. Even the ceiling dribbled water onto the floor
beneath us.
Jason waved the beam of light from
his flashlight in front of us as we started cautiously jogging forward. A very
faint, almost intangible sound tickled my ears. I paused, straining to pick out
what that sound was. I heard it again, and could get out the words “Running
water up ahead,” before I started sprinting. I bounced off an unusually large
stalagmite rising from the ground before slowing my pace. Both Jason and Von
Schlange were right behind me, and I know all we noticed the muted roar of
moving water and the cooling temperature.
We picked our way through a mass of
stalagmites, trying our best to hurry. The rushing-water sound grew continually
louder. Streams began running down small channels on both sides of the tunnel.
The farther we went, the larger the waterways became until they were a full
three feet across and perhaps eighteen inches deep .The crystal-clear water ran
swiftly, picking up speed, the more the path declined. From somewhere up ahead
there was the slightest gleam of natural sunlight.
“Stop!” Jason grabbed my arm and
yanked me backwards, and not a moment too soon. I jerked back with a shout,
seeing for the first time a massive gorge, in which the swirling black
water was churning and frothing. I had
nearly gone over, and the terrible thought of drowning in the waters’ icy
depths almost made me sick to my stomach. Adrenaline surged through me; I felt
my entire body tense involuntarily, my heart raced against my ribs, and I felt
an almost painful tingle in my fingertips and toes.
I sat back down heavily on the
rocky floor and brought my knees up to my forehead. My mind was completely
blank, wiped clean by this new brush with death. I sensed Jason kneeling in
front of me, and he extended a canteen. It was filled to the brim with
delicious water. At least, I thought it was delicious, but I’m not sure, since
I’ve always wondered if water actually had a taste. Of course I drained at
least half the contents before giving it back to him and rubbing shaking hands
across my face.
“Thanks,” I said.
“You’re welcome.” He took a few
swallows. “You know, this is probably some of the best water I’ve ever had.
Does water have a taste, or is that just me?”
I could only laugh and shake my
head. With my thirst sated, and the kick of adrenaline fading away, I stood
gazing at the lip of the precipice with my flashlight.
“How far down do you think it is?”
“Hard to tell. Maybe twenty, thirty
feet.”
“Deep enough to be dangerous. I do
believe water can have a taste; this reminds me of the water from the well on
my grandparent’s farm.” Von Schlange commented.
“How ‘bout the water?” I gestured
at the chasm.
“Who knows?” Jason shrugged.
“Depends on how long the river’s been there and how fast it’s flowing.
Erosion’s definitely a factor.”
I grimaced.
“That would have been a very scary
incident, would it not? If you had actually fallen off?” Von Schlange
approached us, and I instinctively took a quick step away from him and the
cliff.
“It’s a very good thing that Jason
was quick enough to grab you. Otherwise, your tumble could have been so very
long. And the water – it must be very frigid and dark in there. And, of course,
it would be almost certain death.” He laughed at that – an evil, throaty laugh.
I backed up some more, right next to Jason, and whispered. “We’ve got to do
something.”
He looked at me, brows furrowed in
thought. Nodding, he answered, “Of course, but we’ve made it this far. Just
wait a little longer. This has to be over soon.”
He looked back at Von Schlange, who
was shining his flashlight over the chasm. The beam revealed a familiar sight:
More darkness. I observed a slight slump of his shoulders; obviously he was
anxious to get across. There didn’t seem to be any apparent way. He turned his
back to the yawning blackness and came to join our little group
“I say we just relax and have a
nice little meal. In a few hours we can get going again.”
“And where, exactly, do you plan to
get going?” asked Jason. “There’s no way.”
“There is just no obvious way
across. Obviously whoever carved these tunnels and those canals were
intelligent and could have found a way to cross. It’s elementary, as your
Sherlock Holmes would have said.”
I rolled my eyes. “Seriously?” I
thought.
“Actually he was English. Lived in
the middle of London. Y’know, 221 Baker Street?” Jason dryly dropped in.
“Details, details…” Von Schlange
waved a hand dismissively.
“Whatever. Let’s just eat now,
‘kay?” Jason rummaged around in his backpack. I couldn’t believe my eyes when
he pulled out a can of tuna. That was my favorite food, and I couldn’t believe
my eyes. He looked at me, gave a sly smile, and pulled out his pocketknife. He
sawed the lid off and pulled out two plastic spoons from a zip-lock baggie. The
little baggie made me smile, and I remembered my secret stash. I dug to the
very bottom of my pack, and in a secret pocket was a bag of mixed candy and
another with mixed nuts.
“This is about all I’ve got,” I
said. “Split it fifty-fifty?”
“You bet,” he nodded.
So now we’re taking our time
eating, alternating spoonfuls of tuna with a couple of peanuts and caramels.
I’ll tuck the almost-empty foodstuffs back into my back as soon as we’re
finished. Von Schlange is over on his side of the tunnel eating sardines,
crackers, and I think a brownie. Where’d he get that, I wonder.
Something feels off. Maybe my body
just can’t handle real food/water with all the excitement and action of the
past week. I don’t know. So I’ve just been working on recapping our most recent
adventures. This Western author from the 50’s, Louis L’Amour, once said
something interesting: “Adventure is just a romantic name for trouble.” Why did
that quote come to mind? I suppose he was right in a way. Adventures make life
worthwhile; so much more exciting. They’re sometimes unpleasant to deal with in
the moment, but…I really should stop now, since I’m in danger of getting way
too sentimental. Well, guess we’ll see how this quest ends….being kidnapped
certainly wasn’t on the agenda when this thing started.
(Small item from the Associated
Press, appearing in newspapers across the world.)
“A body was discovered by two
banana farmers in a northern Peruvian river last week. It is believed to be
that of Dorothy Diana Jones, a young American archaeologist. She perished by
drowning while on a South American expedition, according to her employers. Miss
Jones was the granddaughter of Henry “Indiana” Jones, the noted Marshall
College archaeology professor who later served in World War II.”
I couldn’t help smiling a little at
reading that, humble as an obituary as it was. But we don’t usually make the
news; archaeology’s not that flashy of a career. It’s slightly more exciting
than accountant and somewhat less than librarian. And she wasn’t really related
to Indy at all; everyone just assumed it. But she didn’t mind. And it wasn’t
her fault that her grandpa was named Hank, or that her name happened to be
convenient in her chosen profession. It opened a lot of doors for her. True,
some of those were quite dangerous, but – well, she knew that. I was one of the
few close friends who knew that secret. And I think I was the only person she
worked with who knew.
She must have hidden her journal in
my pack just after we’d finished eating. Von Schlange left his lunch trash on
the tunnel floor as he straightened his satchel and moved briskly around the
river’s edge. “There has to be a
way!” he shouted, angry.
Diana got up and stood next to me,
her expression a thoughtful frown. “Something’s not right.”
Von Schlange was frantically pacing
back and forth along the far wall. He had his pale eyelids shut and his
fang-like fingers were pressed deeply into his creased forehead.
“I can’t explain it, Jason.
Something is off. It’s just a feeling
I have.”
“Like what?” I was puzzled.
Her mouth opened to form the
syllables, but Von Schlange crowed out, “I have found it! Come, quickly!” He whipped
out his pistol and motioned us to come hither. We shuffled forward; Herr Viper
spoke in rapid tones.
“Here…Here is a ledge. It leads
around the outside of this tunnel. I can barely make out a bridge of some sort
a little farther down.” He gestured for us to go out onto that ledge.
“….I don’t think that’s such a good
idea,” I countered, examining the passage.
“Go now, or I shoot.” He pointed
the gun straight at Diana’s heart.
“I’ll go, I’ll go. That isn’t
necessary, honest.”
I shuffled along the ledge, making
my way across the eight-inch wide surface. It was slippery, and the heels of my
mud-crusted boots were left precariously hanging over. I finally shuffled my
way over, and I was left standing alone by the seriously decayed rope bridge.
It struck me as odd how fitting it was to come across – it was just like the
movies. Real life is never like the movies, and that’s what made this bridge
even more daunting. The creepy black
pool was fed on one side by a river, which seemed to be a long way down. On the
other side of the river it was hard to tell what sort of terrain there was, but
it looked stable enough. And from somewhere on that side there was a bit of
natural sunlight, poking down from the outside world.
“All right, I’m here! Now what?” I
examined the bridge, taking note of the unraveling fibers and missing boards. I
stepped experimentally on the first board. It was completely rotten, as I
suspected, and gave a loud CRr—aaackkk. It easily split in half and then
plunged down into the churning water below. It might have won the silver medal
in the diving competition of the Rotten Wooden Structures Olympics, if there
was such a thing.
“Jason!” Diana yelled. “Can you
hear me? Are you okay?” Her voice was tinged with fear. I did wonder, though,
why she kept asking me that.
“I’m fine, Di! It’s just this
bridge. It’s no good! The ropes and boards and everything are too rotten! We’ll
have to find some other way.”
“NO!” Von Schlange violently
grabbed Diana’s arm and threw her at the ledge. She screamed as she started to
slide down the muddy wall. Frantically, she reached up and grabbed hold of the
edge of the ledge. She was left to hang there perilously, until she mustered
enough strength to pull herself high enough to hook a foot around the corner of
the cave wall. She groaned as her ankle supported most of her weight. I almost
puked.
“Jason!” she yelled. “I could
really use some help. Now, please!” She turned her face away from the deep
valley, and hid it in the crook of her elbow.
I went to help her and Von Schlange
shot the gun into the air. Diana jumped, and her muscles trembled as she tried
to keep her balance.
“Do not move, American!” Von
Schlange warned. He folded his arms and leaned up against the wall, right above
Diana’s foothold.
“Diana,
listen to me.” I say, “I can’t help you. You are going to have to help
yourself. You can do it! You are strong! You aren’t a quitter, and you aren’t
going to become one now. You can do it! Come on!”
Slowly, with muffled grunts, gasps
for air, and arms shaking from fatigue, she reached high to find handholds in
the rocky wall. Sometimes using only the tips of her fingers, she hauled
herself into a standing position on the ledge.
I released a long-held breath,
realizing I was slightly light-headed.
“You listen to me, fools,” warned
Von Schlange, once Diana regained her footing. His tone held a lethal amount of
venom. “You will both cross that bridge and I will be right behind you. We are
going to cross this way. If I hear a single word out of any of you, I will
shoot you. Do you understand?” He looked at Diana. I was calculating how many
bullets he might have left. At our silence, he looked angrier still. “I said,
do you understand? You may answer me this.”
“Yes, I understand,” she replied.
“Then get going.”
Von Schlange signaled for her to start
towards the bridge. She shuffled along slowly, her gaze not wavering from mine.
I held out my hand, and she grasped it tightly. I grinned bravely, trying to
cheer her up, and she merely stared back, eyes wide and fearful.
“Look,” she mouthed, motioning her
with her eyes to some spot to my right and just past the bridge. I saw the mask
then, too – hanging in an alcove on the other side of the bank. Somewhat
excited by our find, Diana and I stepped out onto the bridge with Von Schlange
little behind us. He was still along the widening bit between the ledge and the
bridge.
We were almost to the other side of
the bridge and I actually thought we would make it! But just like in the movies, the bridge
snapped when we’d gotten only a few steps from solid ground. What happened next
was some mixture of true and warped reality. All moments of crisis are like
that, really. You only get some idea of what happened while thinking through
the sequence of events afterwards.
I really don’t want to have to
think about what happened. But I have to. Because this tale wouldn’t be
complete without its ending. It’s just….really hard. Really hard.
The bridge was falling apart piece
by piece, as we were hanging in mid-air. All we could was try to hang on as
best we could. Our hands slipped from their grips, but we would find new ones.
She clung to a thin rope; I was holding on to one of the splintery half-rotted
slats. Diana’s face was at about my knee level.
I looked down, “Are you okay?”
She nodded upward impatiently, towards
the prize we’d gotten sucked into this adventure for. “Go up!” she ordered. I
ignored her command, extending a hand.
“Not without you with me. Come on!”
“Fine, let’s just get out of here.”
She reached up to grab my wrist; I gripped hers. I tried to tow her up to me,
but the bridge remnants were damp with river-mists. Parts of the bridge were
snapping and plummeting into the water, and a chunk of earth came tumbling down
towards Diana. She ducked out of the way, but lost her grip on her frayed rope.
We swung in midair as her grip on mine loosened.
“Don’t you let go of me!” I yelled
down to her. The echoes of the water down in the canyon nearly drowned out my
words.
She looked up at me, her blue eyes
filled with dread; her hair undone and whipping around her face.
I vaguely remember Von Schlange
being stuck on the other side of the canyon. He was howling German curses and
aiming and re-aiming his gun at us. Diana saw him too when she tilted her head
back to look at him.
When her eyes met mine again she
had a small spark in them; the fear was still there, but now there was
something else also.
“I need your knife!” Diana yelled
above the roar. I motioned down to the sheath where I kept my throwing knife at
my shin. She snatched the knife out and adjusted her hold on my wrist, with her
full weight on her left shoulder.
Diana hurled the knife towards Von
Schlange, her timing on our swinging and on her release was off; it missed and
skipped off the limestone, harmlessly grazing his khakis. He skipped away in
agitation from the unexpected brush. She wound up again with her own knife in
hand. It needed to be good; this was our last shot. I lost track of it from my position, but it
seemed like the knife was spinning blade over handle, tilting like a Frisbee as
it went from spinning vertically then to the right as it finished coming in
almost flat. The point stuck cleanly through the shoulder of his coat, sinking
deep into the flesh near Von Schlange’s collarbone. He yowled in pain and
dropped the gun.
But not before he fired it one last
time.
The bullet caught her in her
exposed left side. She screamed in agony, and clutched at her side.
I yelled her name. “Di!”
A moment later her head tipped up
and she looked at me with tears streaming down her face. Her hold on my arm
loosened, and she slipped a little.
A desperate “NO!” tore from my
throat. “You have to hold on Di! I’ll get us out.”
She shook her head weakly. “It’s no use,” she moaned. “It’s
too late.”
I will never forget her gaze in
that frozen second. She knew what was coming… And she was afraid.
“Please, be brave for me.” Her
voice caught in a sob as she looked down into the blackness. Her eyes shot up
to mine again. “You are always brave for me. Be brave for me one more time.”
“Oh, Di. Don’t do this, please!” I
pleaded with her.
We suddenly dropped a foot as a
main tether snapped in two. Diana cried out in pain. If we stayed like this
much longer, then it would be the end of both of us.
“Jason.”
“No! No!” I searched frantically to
find something, anything, to save us. And there was nothing.
“Di, I’m sorry. So, so sorry.” I
met her stare one more time.
Eyes still wide, still scared, she
smiled at me. It was just a little smile- but a comfort to me just the same.
“S’okay. Just be brave.”
And then she let go; she let go so
suddenly she just dropped out of my reach.
She started falling…
and falling…
and falling…
Time stopped. Her eyes still locked
with mine, and her hand still reached up to mine. She seemed to just float,
with her hair spilling around her, and a crimson stain fanning from her side as
the darkness finally engulfed her.
I never heard the splash. It’s a
mercy really. It makes it seem like she is still floating- like she’s not dead.
To relive this, write it all
down…this is taking an eternity. It makes it seem so….real. Thought I’d come to
dealing with everything. But times like this - it’s unbearable. It’s why I
can’t sleep at night.
A loud crack of the pistol brings me
back to the story. Von Schlange had found the pistol he dropped, and had shot
one of the slats I was hanging by. A shard pierced my left calf. I was climbing
up to the ledge while he was waving his gun and motioning at me; never mind the
knife sticking out from his shoulder and rendering his left arm mostly
unusable. His last shot came in just as I was hauling myself up onto the rock
from my personal Cliff of Insanity. I rolled away from the projectile and made
my way over to the mask. Sitting up, I dug out the wood-shard from my ankle,
wincing at the sharp pain. I wrapped it with an extra bandage from my bag, tied
it tightly, and then I began making my way to the mask.
It seemed way too easy to find. In
a little alcove there was a shelf carved out of the wall. This is where I found
Medusa’s mask, along with several common theater masks, a handful both of the
grotesque Tragedy and the equally exaggerated Comedy. I looked around for the beam of light I saw
earlier. That light seemed closer, probably wouldn’t be but about twenty
minutes’ hike to find where it came from. There appeared to be a sort of flat
space that was followed by a gradual incline; a kind of rough theater set up.
“All the world’s a stage/And all
men and women merely players/They have their exits and entrances/And one man
plays in his time many parts…” I quoted from Jacques’ monologue in As You Like It. I bowed my head and
paused for a time.
I then took a good look at the mask
itself. It was formed of some type of hardened clay-like material, the Gorgon’s
face was strange; some mixture of beauty and awfulness. It was just wrong
enough to fall neatly into neither category, which made it even more disconcerting.
The snakes of her hair were well-created and detailed, considering their time
of sculpting. I could hear Von Schlange’s complaints and threats from the other
side of the river. I picked up the mask and went back to the cliff. We stared
at each other over the river, silence speaking volumes.
“You want it?” I held the mask
aloft. My voice was raised louder than necessary from shock and anger. Herr
Viper scowled at me. “Then fetch.” I threw the relic out into the middle of the
huge crevice where gravity took it and yanked it downwards.
“It’s not worth it.” I turned and
walked away.
I followed the light out of the
cave and hitchhiked my way through
Peru, making my way back to the home base. I was rolling along on some
washed-out mountain highway in the trailer of a U-Haul when I came across
Diana’s journal and an old churro. I munched on the stale pastry, staring at
the notebook. It had gotten shaken down to the bottom of my pack, hidden among
the necessary bits and pieces needed to survive a life like I led. I opened up
the cover and flipped through, noting a blank two-thirds of the way through the
book. I kept flipping pages, just to confirm that was the end, but I came
across a note she’d addressed to me. She explained that she’d hidden the book in
my backpack on purpose, knowing I’d find it eventually. And because I’m a
curious snoop, read it eventually.
She wanted me to retype the notes
relating to this trip and share them with some of her bosses, to see what would
happen to her research and the pyramid once the experience got out. And I added
some notes of my own to try to give a better picture of the whole thing. So
that’s pretty much all there is to tell. Maybe Von Schlange died in there.
Somehow I kinda doubt it... he was too slippery and slithery a character. Maybe
there’s no moral to this whole thing at all. Or it could be that I haven’t
realized what it is yet.
===================
Jason’s speech was so incredibly,
stereotypically melodramatic and American. Just like something from one of
their Hollywood films. However, can one expect anything less? He was quite
appalled and outraged by Miss Jones’ death. It was satisfying supremely to
witness, a price which I thought was well-paid. It was a distress that the mask
was so heedlessly thrown into the river, but he instructed me to “fetch”, and
when one has money and power, there are many underlings which will eagerly to
retrieve the objects of one’s search. It may have been hidden for many years;
yes? But ah! It has been discovered, and so it shall be again.
He then walked away from the place of his friend’s tragic death and most
likely escaped from this cave. I ask you, what is so unwelcome about a cave?
The dark interiors and cool temperatures have always agreed with me. Very well,
then; Jason escaped. I wrenched Diana’s blade out of my flesh and used my
jacket to lessen the flow of blood. I then went furiously to think. The narrow
ledge we three had been walking upon continued beyond the now decimated bridge;
so I began journeying along a previously-untrodden section. By following this
path, a pool of water soon became a stream, wherewith slight delay I discovered
a natural limestone bridge and proceeded to continue my trip. After this it was
a simple task to trace back to the path which Jason traveled and follow it
out-of-doors. After that I began my journey to Lima and then back to Munich for
recuperative purposes before returning to my home in Mexico City. Jason Curry
has made it out alive through three encounters after treasures thus far; I had
triumphed in the first, came out slightly ahead in the second and the third was
a draw. Except for the fact that Diana is no longer with us. So I am still
leading our game. There shall not be a fourth round, if I can help it. And
should there be, there my contest with Jason, too, shall close. And Jaeger Von
Schlange shall prevail."
NOTE - THIS IS NOT THE END. Continue scrolling in a downwards direction, please. Thank you!
"A young woman limped along the
roadside. Her left arm was dislocated and her right ankle wasn’t quite
functioning properly. Her brown hair was matted and somewhat tangled, besides
being pretty messy, like it hadn’t seen a mirror or brush in a long time. Her
clothes had seen better days. Her shorts were stained and well-marked by mud,
and the ripped long-sleeve plaid shirt only partially covered the sunburns. The
strap from this backpack she’d picked up by the river bank was rubbing a
splotchy pressure-mark into her neck, as well. At least she had the pack, even
if only one strap was working. No telling who it’d belonged to, or how it ended
up by the river, but it looked useful and contained some helpful items; a
jacket, spare T-shirt and pepper spray, mainly. There were a couple flashlights
that seemed to work, too, once she’d let them dry in the sun for a bit.
A well-used Datsun slowed to a
stop. “Mees? Do you…need ride?” The woman frowned in puzzlement. “Not sure
where I’m headed, so it doesn’t really matter.” “You come. Very hot day, not
good in it – very sick that way.” The woman shrugged and opened the door,
scooting a newspaper off the passenger seat. She picked it up listlessly and
began studying its contents. She looked at the driver. “This is in English?” He
grinned. “Si! Er – how….yes. English I read better more than I speak. Is good
practice, why that is here.” He indicated the paper she was holding. “I guess
so.” She was staring fixedly on some invisible object, trying to think. That
crushing ache in her temples made it difficult. “I am Abel,” the driver
introduced himself, pleased to have someone to practice his English with.
“You…all right?” The woman appeared to not hear the question or not understand
his accent. “Just….trying to think,” she said. “There was something in the
paper…a name that sounds familiar.” Abel nodded. There was silence for a time.
“My name is…Maggie,” she said.
She examined the backpack’s
contents again, more carefully this time. There were about sixty pesos, the
flashlights, clothes, and a handful of empty plastic bags. This pack belonged
to somebody who really enjoyed jerky, from the writing on the outside. There
was a little scrap of journal paper down at the very bottom, wrinkled and
creased and not saying much of anything. It looked like maybe a to-do list of
some kind, later scribbled on in boredom at some meeting or something. One of
the scribbles was a name, “Diana Jones”.
The car pulled into a little
village.
Jason opened the door of his
apartment. He’d just arrived from a dull, lackluster and rather pointless
conference in Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan. Things looked much the same as ever; almost
painfully functional and spare in appearance. The desk was full of
scholarly-looking articles and books. He paused and leafed through some of
them, straightening untidy edges. He wandered into the kitchen and poked around
through the shelves, not finding anything interesting to eat and not expecting
to. Same kind of thing with the fridge. He was just so incredibly, undeniably empty; it was hard just to get through
the day. Most of his time away from work was spent wandering around aimlessly,
head down and stepping quickly, giving the impression of having a mission to
accomplish. Those hikes didn’t help with anything much, but they did file away
the minutes about an hour at a time.
It had been – what? Four, five
months? And she was still dropping away…
Not just that, either; although
that was certainly something to consider. But what about Von Schlange? It was
frustrating enough that scum like him existed, but Von Schlange himself….it was
maddening. And he didn’t really care if he was obsessing or not. And he kept
talking to himself in third person….which was really weird. Not all the time;
only when he was alone – by himself – Which was fairly often. Other people
would start to worry if it happened while they were around, so….
“S’okay. Just be brave.”
He turned on the TV and flipped
channels without caring what was on, just as background noise. MacGyver used a
mirror to disable the laser-field of a security system. Jim Rockford was
fast-talking his way to some much-needed information. Some newscaster
overanalyzing some event in the Middle East. Jesse and Joey tried to figure out
how to change Michelle’s diaper. Some Nicki Minaj music video. That guy who
played Stan from Space Jam furiously
typing commands into his early 90’s computer. Ty Pennington on an Extreme Home Makeover rerun. At some
point, exhausted beyond all reason, he dropped into a fitful sleep.
Sleeping on rocks leaves you
really, really stiff when you wake up. And it can be really cold in a cave at
night. So it was with some complaining that Diana and I got up and started
getting set for the day’s hike. Von Schlange did much more complaining than we
did; and we only halfway listened. Our trio clicked away the miles throughout
the morning, things went about the same as normal. Diana was frowning in
puzzlement, trying to solve a problem. “WATER!” she sprinted blindly towards a
strange, dimly-familiar sound. “Guys! There’s water here!” Von Schlange and I
looked at each other. One or the other of us shrugged and we raced off as best
we could in pursuit.
Nothing else mattered except
reaching that goal; other things may have existed. It was that wonderful “in
the zone” moment that comes almost solely with competition. And besides, it was
merely another in a long string of weird events. We all three kind of needed
each other to survive, and right now, the only way that way possible was by
finding water. And to do that, we had to keep up with Diana. Von Schlange’s
foot hit something that definitely wasn’t
rock or dirt or bat-droppings. It was a weird, almost squishy, sound. But right about then Diana crashed headlong into a
gigantic stalagmite, so I wasn’t paying too much attention to Herr Viper after
that. She seemed to be okay, though. But there was that – “STOP!” That command
must have come from my throat, but I didn’t recognize it.
I yanked her
away from falling into a fatal watery gulf. After that, things are kind of
blank. She sat down on the rocks, hugging herself with her knees. I picked up
her canteen and filled it, handing it to her. “Thanks,” she said, handing it
back.
“You’re
welcome,” I said, taking a drink of my own. “This is some of the best water
I’ve ever had. Do you think water has a taste?” I tried to keep my tone
conversational, hoping it didn’t betray the fear that came with that dim shape
I saw behind us. She sort of giggled and shook her head.
“How deep you think it is?” Now she
was staring at the drop-off.
“Probably twenty, thirty feet. It’s
hard to tell.”
“Deep enough to be dangerous. I do
believe water can have a taste; this is some of the best I have ever drank. It
reminds me of times spent at my grandparent’s farm as a child.” Von Schlange
said.
That shape was definitely getting
closer.
“It’s a very good thing that you
did not fall, is it not, Diana? It appears to be quite fatal if such a thing
were to happen,” Von Schlange went on, morbidly cheerful. “Why don’t we eat
now? I myself am famished, so you two ought better to eat as well.” He began
poking around in his pack, pulling out some more sardines, a Little Debbie
brownie that had seen better days, and an
egg. It wasn’t an ordinary egg, either; that would be bad enough, nasty
stuff. It looked wrong-shaped, and almost…leathery. And that eerie knowing feeling of some presence you
weren’t expecting suddenly being in the room…
“Diana.
Hit the ground, now.” My warning wouldn’t want to come out at first, the
words stuck in my larynx. And I’d scrapped all plans of the surprise can of
tuna I’d stashed away in my pack. But for some reason I just held on to it,
unsure of what to do. There was a muffled wail that was cut off far too
sharply; I whirled around and saw a goopy lump where Von Schlange had been, his
arm being tossed off to one side by a velociraptor. And there was another one
rushing towards Diana….
She looked startled, and shocked,
and a little thrilled, realization that dinosaurs still existed hitting her
mind. And then she understood what was going to happen – I never saw her lips
move, but I heard her voice, saying bitterly, “So this is what happens when I
trust you enough to ask for help, Jason.”
The velociraptor tore into her
flesh in slow motion, ripping out chunk after chunk of muscle tissue and her
internal organs being shredded away, blood spraying everywhere, and from
somewhere way in the background a howl of unearthly torment and anguish. Bones
were cracked fiercely and with a savage enjoyment –
He snapped awake, eyes roaming the
bedroom in panic as he shuddered from the horrible adrenaline coursing through
what felt like literally every pore and sweat gland in his body. “Just a dream,
it was a just a dream….dinosaurs aren’t real, they don’t exist anymore….It
wasn’t real.”
But he knew the events were; even if the dismal scene he’d just watched
wasn’t. She was gone. The clock read 2:27 a.m. Way too late for a hike. And far
too cold, anyway. He curled into a little ball on the carpet, leaning against
the bed, and sobbed far past the time when the tears were finished."
