The Lost Level, page 4
I eased around the cliff face, working my fingers into the cracks, and lowered myself onto a jumble of boulders just above the crevice. I glanced at the jungle and forest far below, admiring once again the strange, crazy–quilt geography of this strange dimension. There was no sign of the smoke I had spotted earlier. Instead, it had been replaced with a shimmering heat haze that seemed to blur everything. The trees looked so small from this height. I was reminded of the tiny replicas that had come with the model train set my father had set up in the basement for my siblings and me when we were kids. At that moment, I felt older than I was, and the distance between where I now was and my family still were seemed like an unimaginable gulf.
I clambered down from the boulders and, with some relief, stood on solid ground again. I was about to enter the crevice when I startled a bird that had been nesting between the rocks. It resembled a chicken, but it was smaller, and its feathers were light grey. It moved faster than any hen or rooster I’d ever seen. The bird squawked with fright as it flew away. Startled, I steadied myself against a boulder while my pulse resumed its normal pace. I found the nest after a quick search, but there were no eggs in the tangle of sticks and grass. My stomach rumbled again.
I pulled the binoculars out of the bag and tried to track the bird. I scanned from the left to the right, but couldn’t find it in my field of vision. I was just about to give up when I caught sight of something glinting in the sun, far, far away at the base of the hills. I focused the binoculars, zooming in on the location, and what I saw made my breath catch in my throat.
Five figures marched toward the jungle. Each of them was similar to a man, having two arms, two legs, and a head, but that was where the likeness stopped. Instead of being human, they were reptilian in nature. Their greenish–grey skin was covered with scales, and they had serpent’s heads, complete with fangs and flickering tongues. They had three fingers and a thumb on each hand and stood an average of seven feet tall. Their weight and shape varied, but overall they seemed to be slender and wiry. They carried a variety of weapons—everything from crude swords and crossbows to rifles of a sort like I’d never seen. They also wore a strange assortment of armor and gear. One was dressed in what appeared to be police riot armor, complete with a mirrored–visor helmet that didn’t quite fit over its snake–like head. A second wore some type of chainmail garb. A third was dressed in what looked like the very old and rusted armor of a Roman centurion. The other two wore leather armor with strange patchwork. I squinted, blinking the sweat from my eyes, and tried to focus the binoculars better. Gasping, I felt my gorge rise. The leather was human skin. The patchwork was faces and tattoos and in one case some type of surgery scar.
I’d felt an instant sense of loathing upon first spying the serpent men, for as I mentioned before, I’ve always had an unnatural and deep–seated hatred of snakes. That emotion turned to anger and revulsion upon seeing the flayed human skin that they’d so callously draped themselves in. My first impulse was to pull out the .45 and open fire, but I resisted. They were too far away, and the weapon was essentially useless at that range. The old adage came to mind—a handgun is only useful for defense until you can make it back to the rifle you should have been carrying with you in the first place. Instead of shooting them, I continued to watch, unable to look away no matter how much I wanted to. They moved in tandem and seemed to be communicating with one another, although no visible speech or hand movements were apparent.
Suddenly, the leader stopped. Behind him, the others did the same. As one, they slowly turned in my direction, staring directly up at me. I knew that I was too far away to be seen, hidden as I was behind the rocks, but I still ducked down in fright. Had it just been coincidence, or had they really known I was there, and if so, how? My scent? That seemed unlikely, given the distance between us. Telepathy, perhaps? Some sort of sixth sense? Or maybe it was just bad luck. Maybe they weren’t looking at me, or perhaps they had heard the bird I’d spooked. I crouched there with my back against the stones until my breathing and heart rate had returned to normal. Then, I carefully raised the binoculars and peeked over the edge again. The snake men were farther away now, moving into the jungle. Sighing with relief, I wiped the sweat from my brow and returned my attention to the shadowed crevice.
Dirt and gravel crunched beneath my boots. I went slow, watching for scorpions, spiders, or anything else that might be lurking among the cracks. I came across an animal skeleton. The bones were yellowed and moldy and scattered so badly that it was impossible for me to identify what they had belonged to. I also spotted some rabbit tracks in the dirt. How was it that something so familiar—something like a rabbit, or a Jeep, or the quarter I had found—existed simultaneously with snake men, and razor–grass, and three–eyed tigers with wooly mammoth tusks?
My thoughts returned to the serpent men. In my occult studies, I’d read of a supposed race of ancient amphibians known as the Dark Ones, who were said to have resided on Earth at one time, and indeed, as some speculated, still lived in cities beneath the ocean, far from the prying eyes of mankind. They were a highly intelligent race, able to fashion tools and weaponry and harness beasts of burden and possessed arcane knowledge. But by all accounts, the Dark Ones were said to look more like Gila monsters or Komodo dragons. The Reptilians I’d witnessed earlier were decidedly snake–like. Could they have been a distant cousin of the Dark Ones? An evolutionary offshoot, perhaps? Or were they something entirely different? Perhaps even alien?
As I continued my exploration, the winding crevice grew narrower, and the rock walls loomed far overhead. Moss and lichen covered the stones in a blanket of green, brown, grey, and hues unlike any I’d seen before—orange and red and yellow. I avoided touching any of them. It was cooler here in the shade, and for that I was grateful. The sun had me perplexed at this point. I was certain that it hadn’t moved in the whole time I’d been on this level, and because of that, I had absolutely no sense of direction or time. All I knew was that I was exhausted from my ordeal, and famished, and needed to rest soon before I collapsed. So, when the crevice eventually ended at the mouth of a narrow cavern, I felt a mix of gratitude and apprehension.
I approached the opening with caution. It was a narrow sliver about eight feet high and four feet wide, and it sloped steeply down into the hill. I couldn’t see very far into the darkness, but a cool breeze drifted out of the cave, and the air smelled okay. Sticks, rocks, dead leaves, and other detritus lined the floor. I stood there listening, but heard nothing inside save the faint sound of dripping water.
Slowly, I stepped through the opening and followed the slope downward. While the cavern mouth had been narrow, it opened up considerably once I was inside. The walls stretched a good fifteen feet across, and the corners and space ahead of me were shrouded in darkness. The air grew noticeably cold after only a few feet inside. The floor was damp and muddy in some places, and I had to choose my steps carefully to avoid slipping. The cave leveled off after about forty feet, and I was able to stand without sliding. I waited for a bit, letting my eyes adjust to the gloom, but even then, I couldn’t see very far. I wished I had the means to start a fire, but I had no matches or a lighter, no flint or steel, and had never been able to master the friction technique even though I’d spent several camping sessions attempting it by rubbing sticks together when I was a kid. I considered returning to the Jeep and trying the battery again. If I could get a spark off of the terminals, I might be able to catch the spark in something combustible, and then fashion a torch and carry it back here. But after considering the items I had in inventory, I didn’t think that would be possible, especially given the fact that I doubted the battery had a spark left in it. And I wasn’t sure I’d be able to make the climb while clutching a flaming torch in one hand.
When I decided my vision wasn’t going to adjust any more than it already had, I explored the cave. Arms outstretched, I slowly walked into the shadows on one side and felt my way around. There was a sheer drop off near the back, nearly hidden in the darkness, which made my asshole pucker and my testicles tighten and shrink as I stood at the edge. Had I not waited until my eyes adjusted before I’d gone exploring, I would have certainly fallen in it. I had no way of telling how wide or deep the chasm was, but it felt immense. Draughts of cold, dank air drifted up from it, and the sound of dripping water was more prominent. I knelt, selected a stone, and dropped it into the darkness. Although I crouched there listening for a very long time, I did not hear it strike anything. I tossed another stone beyond the hole, trying to determine how far across it stretched. Again, I heard nothing.
Taking a deep breath, I backed away from the edge of the pit and continued my explorations. I’d almost reached the far side of the cavern when my foot struck something on the floor. Whatever it was, it made a dry, rattling sound, followed by a metallic clank. Panicked, I stumbled over something that felt like a stick and heard more objects scattering under my feet. I knelt again and felt around. It wasn’t until I found the skull that I realized what it was I’d tripped over—a skeleton. It was human, judging by the feel, and must have been there for quite some time given how easily it fell apart when my foot struck it. There were a few scraps of musty fabric attached to some of the bones and some moldering splinters of moss–covered wood lying amidst the bones. I wasn’t sure what the wood had originally been part of, but it was useless for my purposes now. My fingers sank into it and came away damp and musty. Remembering the metallic sound, I felt around some more until my fingers fell across a cold length of steel. I ran them down the shaft until I found a hilt. I couldn’t believe my luck! It was a sword. I wondered about its owner. Who had they been? Were they even human? I considered carrying the bones back into the light and examining them, but decided I was too exhausted.
Regaining my bearings, I carried the sword back to the entrance of the cave, where the light was better. I examined it with appreciation. Sunlight glinted off the blade. It was a beautifully crafted weapon, of a style and design I was unfamiliar with. Despite the fact that I’d found it lying in a damp cave, there wasn’t a spot of rust on it. The blade was still razor sharp, and free of dings or notches. I tested it out, checking its weight and balance, and was amazed. Never had I held such a weapon. It was absolutely perfect. Whoever had made it, they’d been a true craftsman. My spirits soared once more. I forgot all about being trapped in another dimension. Possessing such a weapon as this would make my stay here much easier, no matter how long the duration.
Satisfied with my find, I set about making camp. The cavern entrance was narrow enough that I could easily defend it should the snake men return. Obviously, the rear of the cave was dangerous only if I sleepwalked, which, to the best of my knowledge, I had never done before and had no plans of doing now. I laid out my gear, keeping the handgun and the sword within easy reach, and wished for food and water. Tomorrow, I’d have to start the day with a concerted effort to find both, and that meant returning to the lowlands. My head ached, and my jaw felt tight. Both were signs of dehydration and hunger. They would only get worse if I didn’t do something soon. I sorted through my loose change and stuck a nickel in my mouth. I had read somewhere that if you sucked on a coin, it worked up saliva in your mouth and eased a thirst. In reality, all it did was make my mouth taste metallic and greasy. I spat the coin into my palm, grimacing. My stomach grumbled again.
To take my mind off my hunger, I crouched down at the cave mouth for a while and watched the sun. I don’t know how long I stayed there. An hour, perhaps. Maybe more. I do know that it was long enough for my feet to cramp and my legs to go numb, but I stayed as I was, just watching. In all that time, the sun never moved. It remained as motionless as I was. I was certain that it occupied the exact same position in the sky that it had when I’d first arrived here. Something else I noticed was that unlike the sun on Earth, I could stare directly into this sun, and it didn’t hurt my eyes. Oh, the glare was still intense, and if I stared too long, I saw funny shapes and blobs in my vision, but it wasn’t blinding like the sun back home.
Eventually, the pain in my legs became too much to ignore, overpowering even the cramps in my empty stomach. Groaning, I stood up and stretched. My muscles were so numb that I almost fell over, but the tingling subsided after a bit. I debated trying to meditate, something I’d learned to do in my occult studies, but decided against it. Yawning, I pulled the sword and handgun close and lay down. Using a rock for my pillow, I waited for night to come. It never did, but I slept anyway.
4
BREAKFAST WITH THE REPTILIANS
I HAVE NO IDEA HOW long I slept that first sun–filled “night.” All I know is that I woke feeling unrested, sore, and afraid. My exposed skin was covered with bug bites, my back and neck muscles ached, and my head throbbed—both from having a stone for a pillow and from hunger and thirst. I vaguely remembered thrashing and turning in my sleep, unable to get comfortable. No matter what position I’d lain in, rocks and debris had dug into my skin. Worse, I kept waking up with no idea of where I was. The irony of that fact was not lost on me.
I stretched for a while, trying to work out the kinks in my muscles. When that didn’t help, I meditated. Sadly, that was just as futile. I found it impossible to clear my mind and calm my inner self, which is the key to successful meditation. Instead, I found myself thinking back over all of the occult lore and spells I’d learned and was somewhat stunned to discover that I knew nothing helpful. Oh, I could create a circle of protection to guard me from an evil spirit, or I could bind a low–level demon, perhaps, but so far, I hadn’t encountered the need for either of those skills here in this strange place. It was frustrating. Why had I never learned how to dowse for water or how to create fire via magical means? Those would have been far more useful given my current predicament. Instead, I would have to rely on my wilderness survival knowledge and my skills with swords and firearms. I doubted a magical circle of protection would help against the snake men I’d seen the day before.
Although I didn’t feel the urge, I decided to relieve myself. I went outside of the cave to do my business, on the off–chance that I might have to sleep there again should a better shelter not prove viable, and I didn’t want it reeking of piss. I stood next to a boulder and unzipped my fly. My kidneys throbbed and my stream was weak—more evidence of dehydration. Resolving to find food and water before anything else, I collected my few belongings and started back down the treacherous hills.
The first difficulty I encountered was freeing up my hands to climb. The pistol was safely ensconced in my waistband again, resting against the small of my back, but the sword proved more difficult and unwieldy. Finally, I fashioned a makeshift sling out of the cell phone charger wires and cables I’d salvaged from the Jeep, tying one end around the hilt and blade of the sword, and then looping the middle around my neck. The weight wasn’t enough to choke me, and it freed up my hands. The only drawback was the steel sword bouncing against my back and shoulders with each step that I took. That quickly became annoying. I had tied the plastic bag to my belt loops again, and it rustled as I climbed. Although game had been scarce in the rocky hills, save for the bird, lizard, and a few insects, that noise would scare away any potential food once I was back amongst the trees. Worse, the bag was starting to get holes in it. I would have to find another means of carrying my gear soon before the plastic tore to the point of uselessness.
I made it back down to the lowlands without incident, but the physical exertion left me winded and dizzy. I paused to rest in the shade of a particularly large palm tree, but the weakness in my limbs didn’t abate. Despite a careful search, I couldn’t find the trail I’d taken the day before. Cursing, I untied my sword and used it to hack at the curtain of vegetation. Insects swarmed me, buzzing in my face. My progress was slow.
As I slashed through a particularly thick tangle of vines, several of them wrapped around the blade and tried tugging it from my grasp. They were insistent, and their strength surprised me. Gritting my teeth, I wrenched the sword free and attacked, slicing the vines into ribbons. They withdrew, dripping greenish sap. The severed tendrils wriggled and curled on the ground, oozing into the dirt. I prodded one with the tip of my sword. It curled weakly around the blade, but was easy enough to dislodge. They twitched for a few moments, and then lay still.
It occurred to me how utterly alone I was in this place. I’d never been an extrovert, but I’d had a few friends and a loving, caring family, and I missed them now. Worse, I just missed people in general. Back home, it had been nothing for me to go a few days without speaking on the phone or emailing someone, especially when I was involved in my studies. The difference was, had I been lonely back home, I could have reached out to someone. Here, I had no such option. Unless I wanted to initiate contact with the snake men, or conjure up the ghost of John LeMay, I was alone. The realization left me feeling gutted and helpless, and my overall despair deepened. I longed for someone to talk to, even if the conversation was only about trivial things—sports scores or politics or the latest celebrity gossip. I’d abhorred such topics in the past, but they would have been a comfort to me at that moment, because they would have been familiar, and therefore, reminders of home. I’d never felt so far away from everyone and everything I held dear as I did at that moment, and although there have been times since then when I’ve felt just as lonely, it was never deeper than it was that morning.
Coming across a massive, moss–covered log, I probed it experimentally with the tip of my blade. The wood was soft and the sword sank into it easily. Kneeling, I dug into the log with my fingers. Moist wood disintegrated under my touch. I uncovered white grubs, black and red ants, and other insects. I had no way of knowing whether any of them were poisonous or not, but at that point, fueled by hunger and desperation, I didn’t really care. I decided to try the grubs, rather than the ants, as there was less chance of a reaction, based on what I knew of their biology back home. I snatched a plump, wiggling grub from the wood pulp and popped it into my mouth. After a moment’s pause, I chewed. The worm exploded inside my mouth, popping like an overripe cherry tomato. Grimacing at the taste—something akin to sawdust and sushi mixed with motor oil—I waited to see if there were any side effects. Other than the foul taste, there didn’t seem to be, so I ate the rest of the grubs, albeit slowly. I waited a few moments, but other than the urge to vomit from the nauseating taste, there didn’t seem to be any side–effects. Satisfied that I wouldn’t get ill, I then continued on my way.
