The creature rose and moved down the tunnel toward the source of the vibration. Its stunted, muscular legs and low-slung, broad body slunk easily through crevasses that would deny passage to larger creatures. Its heavily padded feet made no sound on the cold stone, and it kept its razor claws retracted until it needed to climb… or to kill.
The source of the disturbance was closer now. The creature could discern sounds alien to its experience. Harsher than the tumbling of water through the underground river that snaked through its domain. Steadier than the staccato clack of a rock fall. This sound was new and enticing. It followed the sound with a single-minded purpose, until a cloying scent assaulted its nostrils. Yes!
The creature knew this smell. It had ventured outside the caverns only one time it its life. It had run down and devoured a small, soft thing that had squealed as the creature’s powerful jaws snapped its back. The warm blood, so unlike the cold, slick things of the river that were the staple of the pack’s diet. Yes, this was a warm blood smell.
The creature sent out a call to the pack. There were no words, nor were there sounds. There was simply a shared understanding among the creatures of the pack. The message was simple.
We hunt.
Chapter 24
A lukewarm dampness pressed down on Dane’s face. He grabbed at it as he sat up, and his hand came away clutching a sodden, green dish towel. Where was he? He quickly took in his surroundings. Faded curtains permitted a hazy glow to fill the small room, revealing twisted covers and a moldy pillow on the small bed upon which he sat. Above him, a water-stained ceiling drooped like a low-hanging storm cloud, and below him threadbare carpet of burnt orange failed to entirely cover the cheap subfloor. The walls were covered in murky gray-brown paneling, and were plastered with sketches. He was no art expert, but dating Kaylin Maxwell, a professional painter, he had enough familiarity that he could tell that this artist, whoever he or she was, was a talented amateur. Dane recognized the peak of Angel’s Landing from a picture Jade had printed out. There were other landscapes done in pencil or crayon, and all were pleasing to the eye. Others, however, were more sinister. Dark caverns filled with grotesque figures were rendered in broad, heavy lines of crayon. Something was chained over a river. And most disturbing of all were the shadowy renderings of a fanged creature with dead, black eyes, and glistening claws. The beast was always drawn in a night scene, and never in complete detail, which made it seem all the more malevolent.
A sliver of light appeared in the wall as a door opened. He tensed as a figure appeared in the doorway, the brighter light outside the door bathing its features in shadow.
“Wake?” A slurred voice asked. “Wake?” There was no malice in the odd voice. The figure stepped into the room, and the dim light from the window fell upon the most hideously deformed person Dane had ever met. He was a young man, perhaps about twenty years old, though it was difficult to tell. His right leg was six inches shorter than the left, emaciated, and was twisted so that his left foot was pointed to the side. His right arm was also noticeably shorter than his left, though both were heavily muscled. It was his face that was the most disfigured. His right eye was tiny and beady, and the left bulged so far out of its socket that it looked like it would pop out if someone were to clap the young man on the back. His nose was not fully grown, giving it a pig-like appearance. His lips curled back in a permanent smile, revealing a few twisted teeth. His patchy, brown hair was long and fine, and seemed to float behind him whenever he moved his head. Despite his horrific appearance, though, there was somehow an air of gentle kindness about him.
“Yes, I’m awake,” Dane said.
“Dink!” The young man thrust a glass of water into Dane’s hands, sloshing half of it onto his lap. “Dink mo.”
Dane was parched, and he gulped it down. It was lukewarm and had a coppery taste, but he did not care. He finished it and was brought another, which he forced himself to drink more slowly.
“I guess you saved me out in the desert,” he finally said to his Good Samaritan who had sat down on the floor and was staring happily at him.
“Eah!” He nodded vigorously. “Eah!”
Dane was torn between the urge to get back to looking for Jade, and the sympathy and gratitude he felt for the youth. In any event, he needed to figure out exactly where he was, and how to get to Angel’s Landing from here. That was it!
“Did you draw these pictures?” he asked.
“Eah! Daw.” The young man climbed unsteadily to his feet and pointing to various pictures and talking rapidly. Dane could understand very little of what he was saying. When he indicated the pictures of the creature, he said something like “Choo. Choo.” It didn’t look like any choo-choo Dane had ever seen.
“Is that place close by?” Dane pointed to the picture of Angel’s Landing.
“Eah.” A noncommittal shrug.
“Have you been there?”
“Eah!” This time the young man seemed very excited. “Eh dah, eh dah, eh dah.” He pointed to the cavern sketches. “You see.” He dropped to the floor, reached underneath the bed, and pulled out a shoebox, which he opened with great care. He took out a handful of smooth pebbles and handed them to Dane. “Got dah.” He indicated a sketch of what looked like a twisting river running through a dark cavern.
“You found these in that cave?” His question was answered by a vigorous nod. He needed to connect with this young man, if only to learn the way to Angel’s Landing. He made a show of admiring the smooth stones, turning them over in his hand and rubbing them between his fingertips. But he did not have to feign interest in the next object that came out of the box.
The young man dropped a golden ingot into Dane’s palm. Dane was no Egyptologist, but as a marine archaeologist, he had enough knowledge of Egyptian artifacts that he easily identified its origin, and could tell that it was very, very old.
“Where did you get this?” he whispered.
“Dah.” Again, the same picture.
“Is this a cavern and an underground river?” He stood and walked over to the picture.
“Eah!”
“And you’ve been inside it, and it’s where you found this?” He held up the ingot.
“Eah. Eh dah, eh dah, eh dah.” The boy stood and this time poked each cave drawing with his index finger. He held the open box right in front of Dane’s face. “Fi dese too!”
Dane gasped. Among the collection of native rocks lay a golden ankh, several scarabs of various sizes, a few amulets, and some beads.
“Can you show me where you found these?” Dane whispered.
“Eah!” He dropped the box, its contents scattering across the floor, and bolted out the door. Concerned that he might be left behind, Dane hurried out behind him.
The young man was standing in a small, dark living room babbling to an elderly woman who sat in a wheelchair with a blanket draped across her lap. She turned to Dane and greeted him with a toothless smile. Beneath the blanket, her twisted legs came well short of the floor. Other than this deformity, she seemed to have escaped the young man’s misfortune.
“I see you’re awake,” she wheezed. “Justin brought you back from the desert. Put you in his bed and kept damp cloths on you. He’s a good boy.”